There was a local retard called Vance....
...who was only a semi-retard, as he had his own flat. We used to hang about in an area which was close to where he resided, and partially got to know him. We ran through a few windups with him, but he wasn't too fussed as for him it meant some company. This was all well and good until I found out he'd been reading this crime thriller book. In fact he'd been praising it in the same kind of way as if it's the first book he ever read.
When he wasn't paying attention I kinda done a naughty and ripped the last chapter out of the book and hid it behind his telly.
When he found out about a week later, he spacked out completely. There is nothing funnier than an angry semi-spack exploding, I can tell you.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Mon 13 Nov 2006, 17:57, Reply)

My former housemate
the legendary Kiran, famed for his fear of butter and need to abuse the female friends of all his housemates, both had tricks played on him and played them.

First of all there was the time our housemate Iain covered his doorknob in butter and wrote "BUTTER" in butter on his mirror (complete with badly drawn spunking cock). Please bear in mind that Kiran is absolutely and pathologically afraid of butter - the taste of it, the smell of it, and the look of it, and no one knows why. The screams filled the house for about ten minutes.

After this he decided to exact revenge on a friend of mine who he'd taken a fancy to. He rang her mobile from his own and, pretending to be from the Inland Revenue, told her she owed £2000 in back taxes. My friend cried for ten minutes and I beat Kiran with cushions for twice as long.

Kiran also had a part in the "fake-blood-tampon-on-Rich's-door" incident which also resulted in screams that lasted for several minutes.
( Maladicta, Mon 13 Nov 2006, 17:10, Reply)

Me ol' Biology Teacher
Mr Mainwaring. What a teach. A complete fecking nutcase, he'd regularly take the piss. He'd famously attacked a pupil because he asked more than 3 questions about a subject within 5 minutes (while screaming "Ayyyyy Kareoke!!!!!" as loud as he could), he'd tortured the kid with the lisp ("That's phofofynfffethith for Leigh and Photosynthesis for all the other kids") and actually in a PTA meeting, he told my mother that she wants to stop me playing with myself in the bedroom. When she went "I BEG YOUR PARDON!!!" he said "Yup, Jeccy's always on the computers...." completely deadpan. The guy's a legend.

This one time, 3 kids in our class had like always failed to produce thier homework on time. So, as a punishment he'd asked them to meet him in one of the un-used labs for thier lunchbreak at 12.15pm. They turn up, and he points out a small lab-room in the corner of the room (used for storage). The kids shuffle in.....and then Mainwaring closes the door and locks it. Then goes down the pub, and comes back 3 and a half hours later.
The kids got rows for skiving from every lesson in the afternoon, even though they all said what happened.....

Mainwaring's dead now, poor bastard. I bet he's torturing them upstairs now, or most probs downstairs that is :D
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Mon 13 Nov 2006, 17:03, Reply)

Another colleague, named Donovan.
He was deeply unpleasant; a drinks leech who spoke of nothing but cocaine, and lied excessively about everything.

He came in one day a little worried as a girl had told him she was pregnant by him. We verified this through third parties, and thought here is an opportunity for a prank.

We called him pretending to be the girl's father, welcoming him to the family, inviting him round for tea, offering to cover the marriage costs etc etc etc.

He was found in the toilets, very pale and shaking, before telling us about the call and how he told the "father" to fuck off etc etc.

He then called the girl and her friends threatening dire retribution.

We strung it out for a number of days.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Mon 13 Nov 2006, 16:54, Reply)

A colleague thought it would be funny (knowing I hate wriggly beasties)
to hide maggots around my desk.

I was repulsed and then went to the fishing shop. I filled his car's hot air ducts and his telephone earpiece with maggots.

The results were unpleasant, yet strangely hilarious.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Mon 13 Nov 2006, 16:50, Reply)

Another day another housemate
Anna; a very tedious girl who had kept me and my mate awake by playing All Saints until 5 am and through very noisy shagging, for days.

So when she went to the small toilet downstairs we tied the door to the banister with plastic cable, effectively trapping her. Then we cut the power and went out.

I'd forgotten she was claustrophobic.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Mon 13 Nov 2006, 16:47, Reply)

Never again
I made a slightly off colour comment to Disasterprone. I will be released from hospital in the New Year.
(frankspencer, Mon 13 Nov 2006, 16:32, Reply)

Outside the office...
...we have a Macro store and a waste-ground, which has been inhabited for the last 4 months by Gyppos. Now we don't normally pay any attention to them, and in fairness they haven't really bothered us at all. Except on the buildup to bonfire night when they were launching rockets at our cars in the office car park, and using our fence to keep washing on.

They are taking the piss about now though, as I've just driven into the building and passed them. They were unloading a 60 inch widescreen from the back of one of thier vans, and testing it out with a full sized aerial balancing on the Macro fence. Talk about fucking liberties.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Mon 13 Nov 2006, 16:30, Reply)

My friend had arranged a date
with a very cute 18 yr old (we were about 20). He had recently scuppered my chances witha girl so while he was out we covered his walls with as much animal pornography and hardcore S&M as we could print.

There was a scream, a slap, and she came running downstairs.

Sadly, as he worked with her this also affected his standing at work and he was forced to quit.

Oops.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Mon 13 Nov 2006, 16:22, Reply)

A colleague of mine spends a lot of time on the toilet
We went in there with a new air freshener and a lighter.

His pubes caught light.

He now spends much less time in the toilet.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Mon 13 Nov 2006, 16:19, Reply)

My old housemate was regularly deeply unpleasant to my (now) wife.
including frequent attempts at molestation; eventually I remonstrated with him. He was unrepentant, and caused further offence. So I pissed in his ketchup, pesto etc. Wiped my arse on any flexible food he had. The phone bill was in his name so I called a great many foreigners. I stole his prozac and refilled the capsules with laxative and occasionally trips. I threw his dissertation and master disks storing it into the Porter Brook river. I put his number in phone boxes. He came close to a complete breakdown, and on the day I and my (now) wife were to move out (with her parents collecting her) he had a shit on the floor. I lost my cool and forced him to clean it up. Then I saw my wife off, went back to the house, threw all his possessions into the woodyard below our back yard, stole everything I could fit into my bag and carry, then came back to batter him. I kicked his door through only to find his room empty. I found out later from a mutual friend that he had been hiding beneath his bed, had heard me smash his room to pieces and had done nothing other than to disappear into intensive therapy for a month.

I probably went too far, but I don't regret it at all because I didn't like him very much.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Mon 13 Nov 2006, 16:17, Reply)

I was a drunk student
and moved the cones from around some large holes outside the entrance to my student village.

I moved these cones across Granville Rd (one of the busier roads in Sheffield) and inadvertantly caused a taxi to crash.

The next day there was a memo sent around the student houses asking for information about who had done this owing to several students falling into the holes, in the dark, on the way back from clubs leading to a number of hospital visits.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Mon 13 Nov 2006, 16:10, Reply)

My friend had upset me a little
so I took revenge by placing 12 desirable yet very cheap (for quick sale owing to move abroad)items in the free ads with his direct office number.

He received 1500 calls. He got no work done. He has been much nicer since.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Mon 13 Nov 2006, 16:05, Reply)

soup
I had a conversation with a vet friend whose grandmother had died a few weeks before. He said despondently "she'll be ashes now". I said "really?", genuinely interested. So he said "well no actually she'll be more like soup".
Trying to be supportive I said "well your grandmother always did make very good soup".
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Mon 13 Nov 2006, 15:04, Reply)

when I was at university

I had this 'schtick' of pretending to be retarded when in public with my friends - eg speaking in a ridiculous voice, saying deliberately stupid things, and so on.

It was pretty juvenile - and probably copied from that movie - but they all thought it was funny, and some of them started doing it as well.

This culminated in a competition to see who could stay 'in character' for the longest.

I think by now I can confidently say I won?



(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Mon 13 Nov 2006, 15:01, Reply)

being a sailor....
As I was back then in 197* I had a best mate Andy Goode, Andy was a great mate up until I put him forward for training as the 'splash target coxwain'
I got him to put in a chit, by promising more salary etc days outin the fresh air kind of stuff (for non sailors: splash targets are those white rafts towed on a line behind ships that gunners use as targets to improve their aim...) Andy went through the petty officers, the sub lieutenant and almost up to the Captain, before I was told I had to either face the Captain with him &with his request for training or tell him the truth, so I redirected him for Muff Diver training instead...better badge and hours i said. he refused to talk to me for a month after that. Then I shagged his one & only one night stand and he for some peculiar reason stopped talking all together, some 30 yrs on I think his sense of humour has almost resurfaced
(mickturate if i could be arsed i'd be bored, Mon 13 Nov 2006, 14:41, Reply)

some of my old SS chums decided it would be a good jape to try to pass me off as a priest at the local church for a few weeks ....

bollocks
(Pope Benedict XVI, Mon 13 Nov 2006, 14:38, Reply)

Debt Collector
Strap yourselves in.. another Catchag long one...

It was September 1989 - I was just about to start my second year of A levels and was working during the summer in a local Cinema as an usher - absolute cushy job - watching all the latest releases and getting paid for it.

I had a full suit uniform and looked very smart (this was an independant cinema and the proprietor was very traditional) but I was meeting a friend of mine from Chester off the C84 bus that night. My mate John was 6'8", a former junior power lifter and a drummer in a metal band - long greasy hair denim jacket covered in band sew-on patches and a bullet belt... and a totally uncouth drinking monster.

Another old school friend (Lee) had been for a lads camping holiday during the summer and copped off with some girls - Lee had invited his girl to come and stay so they could continue their horizontal persuits - but his overprotective mother wouldn't allow him to fraternise with girls whilst he still lived at home - so she went to stay at Kenton's house - whose parents were away on holiday.

I met John off the bus and we were walking back to my folks place so I could get changed before we made pissed idiots of ourselves when I stopped next to Kenton's house - Kenton was at work - Lee was at work - girl was by helself - time for wind up.....

I told John to hang out of sight until I called him and knocked very loudly on the back door, waited, then knocked some more. A very timid girl opened the back door a crack and said - "Yes?"

"Mrs Kenton?" - I asked

"No.."

"But this is the Kenton's residence?"

"Yeessss..."

"My name is Mr Catchag, I'm from the Berland debt recovery agency and I'm here to collect goods to the value of £2000 for non payment of credit card bills.."

My foot met the closing door and wedged it open

"You can't come in - they're not here - you can't do this....."

"I'm sorry but there has been months worth of correspondence and I have a court order (I produced the folded timesheet for next weeks shifts at the cinema and waved it at her)I am legally entitled to enter this property and recover goods to the value outstanding"

She had started crying and was banging the door against my foot whimpering at me;

"You can't come in - I won't let you come in"

"This is my colleague, Mr John, who is here for such eventualities"

John stepped under the porch from where he had been out of sight

There was a loud wet fart from the girl and she let go of the door and took a step back with her eyes wide - then burst into tears.

I said her name and she looked at me confused through her sobbbing - so I said her name again and then explained that I was one of Lee's friends and this was a wind up and bless her, despite the state she was in, hawking with upset and stinking of shit - she said

"Oh - do you want to come in then?"

We declined and left - and literally had to hold each other up for laughing all the way back to my folks place

7.30 pm that evening the phone rang

"CUNT" - was the only word said and then Lee hung up.
(Catchag "You know!....For Kids!", Mon 13 Nov 2006, 14:23, Reply)

What would your mother think?
My mum used to be a violin teacher. She taught a thirteen-year-old girl who was usually quite conscientious, but for a few weeks she didn't seem to have done any practice and wasn't making any progress. So she gave her this massive bollocking, at one point asking her, "What would your mother think if I phoned her up and told her you haven't done any practice?"

The girl immediately burst into tears - her mother had died three weeks previously!

Not really her fault, but trust my mum to go too far...

After apologising and mopping this poor girl up, mum went storming into the head of music's classroom demanding to know why she hadn't been informed - the head of music hadn't been informed either. Turns out the headmistress knew, but hadn't thought to tell any of the girl's teachers. What a knob jockey.
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Mon 13 Nov 2006, 14:17, Reply)

You're right. I have no excuses. I was totally over the line.


Over the line? You... you.. you're so far past the line that you can't even see the line! The line is a dot to you!
( rachelswipe with a fork, Mon 13 Nov 2006, 14:09, Reply)

Tip? Lose the VPL.
As studenty-types some friends and I, as students are wont to do, whiled away many an evening in cheap pubs. Despite me being a very girly girl most of my friends are male, and on this particular evening, drinking in a civilised manner had led to competing to see who could down half pints of Stella fastest which, in turn, had let to (ominous dun-dun-dun noise) Tequila.

Suffice to say, we were all fairly hammered. Two of my friends had ordered a platter of Wetherspoons' finest unidentifiable greasy 'food'. I, meanwhile, was eye-flirting with a waiter. He wasn't particularly attractive, but he was Italian and he did have a nice bum.

Preparing to leave the pub, we decided that this friendly chap's good service deserved to be acknowledged. Never mind the fact that he was just doing his job, it was decided that we would not just leave him a tip, we would write a note to the manager.

Being at a pub, we didn't have much stationery. So we wrote the note of praise on the back of a receipt. In black Sharpie. My only consolation is that it probably wasn't readable.

We agreed on the wording, but I insisted on adding a P.S...

... and you have a really nice bum. From the girl on the table. Obviously. Or not. Well, you do. Yes.

Moral? Drinking turns normal, sane people into thirteen year old girls. It's a real danger, people.

Did I mention that my boyfriend of three years was also at the table?
(clumsyeloquence is a girl, Mon 13 Nov 2006, 14:02, Reply)

northern macho v southern handbags...
Me and X (you know who you are) are on a road trip north of the watford gap, to pick up Mr. X's belongings from Mr X's eX(-you know what mean) When we go into his soon to be eX local working mans club...a bit of good natured banter takes place along the lines of southern poofs and wheres yer handbags? et sodding cetera tedium. So a duel ensues where 'the first to piss buys the beer' now being a southern gentlemen my bladder is as big as a mouses condom and much trepidation ensues.
Mr. X too has a bladder the size of a gnats colostomy, but a bet being a bet we cannot refuse; we drink, more beers ordered. we drink again, more beer, more drinking and on. after pint 4 my back teeth are floating and mr. X is turning green, when our northern compatriots turned on the match and appeared a little bored by the duel...during one very loud tense moment when Man U were v. close to scoring a goal, Mr X winks at me & grabs an empty glass, puts it under the table and proceeeds to refill it! result!
more beer ordered, more beer drunk until our new northern chums decide we've won the bet and proceed to pay for the drinks. Cue Mr X excitedly getting up and knocking over not only the three full glasses at his feet but mine too.
we ran.
apols for lenght, girht and stroke.
(mickturate if i could be arsed i'd be bored, Mon 13 Nov 2006, 14:02, Reply)

4-0
I went clubbing in Watford on Saturday night (yeah, I'm that classy) with a few people from my taekwondo club.

Walking down the high street trying to find a cab afterwards, we passed a bunch of Watford supporters. My friend Steph, a massive Chelsea supporter, decided it would be a great idea to say, "Four nil" as we passed them. It was like a red flag to a gang of tanked-up, adolescent, Burberry-clad bulls. They were not best pleased. A plethora of jibes ensued, ranging from the innocuous, "You just fancy Mourinho" to actual death threats. I was absolutely cacking it at this point because a black belt is no good when you're wearing a miniscule skirt and high heels.

Anyway, it took a few minutes of painstaking negotiation but eventually we came to a non-violent agreement. We even had some jovial banter. Unfortunately. one of the Watford boys, who looked about fifteen, took a bit of a liking to Steph, who is twenty-seven, and asked for her number.

"Sure!" she said. "Four....nil...."

All amicable relations disintegrated and we legged it down the high street. That really was going too far.
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Mon 13 Nov 2006, 14:00, Reply)

in not a racist.... honest!!
We had planned to go out last friday for drinks as usual. theres a black guy in our office whom we used to invite but he always said no. So this time we didnt invite him. Of course he now jokingly says to me "I bet you're not inviting me cos im black?" I thought I'd be funny so i said "no, its not just cos ur black, its also cos ur an arsehole who no one likes and youd look like a cunt out with us when we're all dressed in white hoods walking about with burning crosses" I waited anxiously for him to laugh knowing id just probably said the worst thing ever in the office in front of everyone. luckily he laughed... well i think it was a laugh? jesus im dark sometimes. he still never came out with us though..
(Chunk Mcfunk, Mon 13 Nov 2006, 13:56, Reply)

Drug cocktail.
A bit of scene setting, first time I met the guy he was off his face on Coke, squatting in a house he was meant to be decorating while the owners were away. This is a man that when it comes to drinking proclaims that eatings cheating as is sleeping.
So our friend Tony, is slightly unhinged and instead of attending his best mates wedding as the best man in South Africa, he spent the 3 weeks in St Bernards NHS mental Health unit.
How he got there is a joy to hear.
In addition to being a cokehead Tony is also an alcholic, shakey and slurry. Tony embarked on a pre-trip drinking binge and by binge I mean 20 odd pints starting at 11 am and continuing long into the night. During this binge in his local whinebar, Tony misplaces his passport and when we got booted out, we all go our separate ways. Tony somewhat more meandering his way home in that drunken determined way that pissed people do. When he realised he lost his passport Tony smashed a window, with his head. Unleashing an inhumane scream, that I heard half way back to my house, Tony proceeds to run up one side of the local promenade smashing all the windows with his forehead, seemingly oblivious to the obvious bleeding and I would guess substantial pain, then back down on the other side of the road with a similar trend. Needless to say when he was arrested it took several officers to aprehend him (it later emerged the crazy bastard had not only been drinking, he had been on the coke as well as choosing that night to dabble with pcp), he was stuck in a meat wagon and carted off to the mental home. They gave him some sedatives and when he woke up 2 days later he had no clue where he was but was shocked to see my mate Joe's ex-housemate in the bed next to him. What a coincidence.
(jambolio, Mon 13 Nov 2006, 13:54, Reply)

Another one
Wasnt there when it happened but got emailed the story later..

Fatboy was rolling around on the floor
because they were playing A-Team. ( 'They' include a doctor, a dentist and a lawyer from Austrailia) A girl came up to him and started cracking
on to him. Fatboy told her (in no uncertain terms) that if she honestly wanted
to pull him she would do a forward roll on the floor of the club too. She
did. Fatboy walked off laughing.

Too far cos the poor bint had all her friends looking.
(luckymcdanger, Mon 13 Nov 2006, 13:54, Reply)

'Twas the summer just passed
And I was a leader on a kids' camp.

As was the yearly tradition, we took the kids for a long walk at night.

But this was no ordinary midnight walk, oh no. We had a lot planned.

First, we had placed a fish head on a fencepost next to a public telephone. One of the leaders points out the fish head during the walk, and as all the kids rush to stare at it in horror, the phone rings. One of the leaders picks it up. It was our supervisor, who asks for one of the kids. This kid was always misbehaving, and thought himself a pimp, trying to pick up any girl, even the female leaders (who are about 18-22, he was 10).

"Hey, 'Kid A', this mysterious guy wants to talk to you" says one of the leaders.
'Kid A' tentatively picks up the phone, trying desperately not to shit bricks.
"We know where you are and what you're doing" growls our supervisor.
'Kid A' then screams his head off, scaring all the other kids whilst we try not to laugh because at that second, one of our cars comes tearing round the corner wiht leaders hurling water balloons everywhere. It was like a war film with midget civilians running all around the place.

After every single kid had stopped crying their eyes out, we finished the walk and sent them to bed, where they all had nightmares about gigantic fish heads and mysterious evil callers.

Too far? Well, the next day we fed them fish and chips for tea.
(tarbin tarbis, tarbit, tarbamus, tarbimus, tarbant, Mon 13 Nov 2006, 13:53, Reply)

Just this saturday..
Was at a birthday party and it was fancy dress with the theme being the 50's (I wore a curtain and took my iron, I was the cold war). Arrived quite early so find myself making small talk with some randomers. all is good until we begin chatting about the 50's and I pipe up with 'Yeah, to get myself in the swing of things for the party I was gonna rob and rape a black girl on the way over'.

Cold, grim, silence. Maybe it's he way I tell them.
(luckymcdanger, Mon 13 Nov 2006, 13:40, Reply)

Fountain
At Leeds Festival in 2005, we came across a stranger walking around with a paper cup full of piss, saying "does anyone want a drink of my special cider?" My mate, Steve, steps up and says "that's piss isn't it, I'll drink it if you do". The owner of the piss doesn't look happy at this, but his mates think its great, so force him into it. Steve takes the cup off the guy and takes a big gulp. Hands it back to the owner of the piss, who very sheepishly took a little sip.

It was taken a bit too far when Steve grabs the cup back off him, and starts gargling with it and spitting a fountain of piss in the air. And at us.
(set_phasers_to_alkie, Mon 13 Nov 2006, 13:33, Reply)

He went way too far....
Back in October 1995 a whole load of us - eleven in all descended upon Butlins in Minehead for a weekend of carnage.

Upon arrival, the Matt Goss lookalike in the group, Simon discovered he'd left his baggage at home and apart from the clothes he was wearing he had nothing else to wear. "Not a problem!" says I and steps forward to offer up my pristine, prized black Levi jeans.

Eight hours later I'm sat in a bar and completely partied out, so I decided to retire to the comfort of my chalet having fled from the boudiour of a random Welsh lassie. Anyway, about twenty minutes into my sleep I'm woken by this rhythmic banging noise against our front door. I'm sufficiently freaked not to want to investigate the noise imaginging a bunch of crazed Welshmen attempting to break in and lynch me.

Wind forward to next morning, all becomes clear.

Simon had gotten himself a lady and brought her back to the chalet. Having forgotten his key he decides to entertain said lady in our the doorway of the chalet. Ugh!

The banging noise I heard was the sound of her head rhythmically hitting the front door. Ugh!

She turned around mid-bonk and asked "will you go down on me?" to which Simon replied "no" and carried on as if nothing had been said. Ugh!

The worst bit? He'd been happily boffing away wearing MY jeans. My BLACK jeans, which now wore a healthy serving of jus de Simon right down the front...
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Mon 13 Nov 2006, 13:31, Reply)