Sorry Ron
Aged about 7 or 8, I was at a neighbours house playing with their strange kid who never went to the same school as anyone else. I was showing him the hi-LAR-ious trick of putting the end of the toilet roll in the bog and flushing it, causing most of the roll to unwind and flush away. He put his very young pet kitten on the cistern while I set things up. *flush* *plop* "meowp". The kid was in tears of course but I knew that both our parents would never believe the truth (ie that we didn't flush kitty on purpose, he/she/it just slide and fell in mid-flush) so I menacingly told him to keep his mouth shut. Saw him a week later crying in the street by a road drain. I'm really, really sorry Ron. I sleep at night by telling myself you would have been sent back to your old boarding school and bummed to buggery if we'd said anything.
(bonjelafiend, Fri 31 Aug 2007, 15:43, Reply)

Salad days
We have, on two separate occasions, served guests a cucumber of moderate girth and a large carrot which had previously been put to nafarious use as 'make do' dildos.
In our defence they were both peeled first, but hey, it's the thought that counts.
Stick to meat and two veg if you ever get an invite.
(Countryslicker, Fri 31 Aug 2007, 15:40, Reply)

I would bet that.....
most of these posts are less about guilty secrets rather than showing off your evil genius.

I feel no guilt
I have no secrets, well two, and one of them is that I have a pooed in a sink, and the other is boring.

So here is my work of evil genius.....

I have a secret life as a b3tard that ensures less boredem at work whilst they pay me a ton of money.

I persuaded my brother that he would make a great father so I wouldn't have to give my parents grandchildren

I made going to university a way of rebelling against my parents, ensuring less chance of life-fuck-up-age

I only sleep with virgins to maintain my reputation as a sexual god

I dress scruffily and act like I don't care what people think so I am anti-cool, which is in fact, the new cool

I just invented anti-cool, and YOU love it.

I have gathered an army of mutant penguins willing to do my bidding for when I feel ready for claiming my right to ruler of the world. There's NOTHING you can do to stop me.

Muh hah hah!

Oh yeah, and I get to know all your dirty laundry for blackmail-use at a later date.

*rubs hands with glee*
(Jugular, Fri 31 Aug 2007, 15:38, Reply)

I hate my job.
But vengeance is the upside to rude customers.

When they're not looking, I rub the magnetic strips on their cards against the de-tagger, wiping everything on the strip.

In these days of chip and pin they could go for months without noticing, but it must be a real pain in the arse once they do.

That'll teach them not to say 'Hello' to me.
(Generator cannot be named for legal reasons, Fri 31 Aug 2007, 15:37, Reply)

Set, setting and substance
In my formative years we dilly dallied with Albert Hofmann's finest, and on this particular evening I was hosting.

I didn't really understand the more salient points of the above and had liberally bedecked my room with pictures and postcards mostly torn from Kerrang, neanderthals drinking blood from faux skulls etc. Loud metal music, bright lights, parents out till midnight.

One of the chaps we were with had never tripped before as the above 'setting' was not particularly conducive to a cosy evening in, he freaked. i.e. standing at the front door 10 mins before my parents were due back dressed only socks and pants planning to walk home (10 miles) "because his parents loved him".

We talked him down ATC style and just about got away with it.. put our jigsaw heads back together and he went on to get a degree and looked externatlly at least, relatively stable.

Fast forward three years and he gets arrested for trying to bring an illegal mexican immigrant back into the UK and marry her, apparently he thought he was the son of god, all sorts of weird shit. He then started to get waking nightmares of a post apocaplyptic nature, all alone, everyone else vapourised. A day before he was due to be sectioned he cut his wrists and threw himself in the river.

Hmm not as cathartic as I'd hoped for, that.
(Countryslicker, Fri 31 Aug 2007, 15:31, Reply)

Can we expose other people's guilty secrets?
Yes? Good...

My old housemate (he who features in the Housemates from Hell QOTW) used to regularly crack one off while watching "Ground Force".
I know this because I walked in while he was reaching the vinegar strokes.

He spluffed on Charlie Dimmock's water feature. Not a sentence I ever thought I would find myself writing...
(Rakky (forgot her password) The muffin maverick, Fri 31 Aug 2007, 15:31, Reply)

OKAY I ADMIT IT!!!
IT WAS ME WHO GAVE THE KITTEN CONJUNCTIVITIS!!!
( St. Defenestration The REAL one, Fri 31 Aug 2007, 15:30, Reply)

When I first got on to the internet...
I was probably ten or eleven. My parents spend an hour in the pub on saturdays, and me being bored got to go to the internet cafe for an hour a week. yahoo was the only website I knew, and I went onto the chatrooms.

So being an 11/f/ie wasn't a very safe thing to say. Well, what I thought was that I wouldn't look cool and no-one would talk to me if I said I was 11. So to be cool for all the other 'teenagers' in the teenager room, I was 16/f/uk. I usually had about 3 pms at once, one asking me to cyber, and I actually did once, but I thought it kinda funny that some guy would want to take off my imaginary top.

I remember one time, I said to someone "what do you like?" He said "skateboarding and girls who masturbate." I was very confused by this, so I asked the other person I was talking to what masturbate meant... He declined to tell me. He was a *little* surprised that I didn't know what it meant, and didn't want to be the one to explain.

Then in last year of convent primary school we had sex ed and I asked what it was. The roman catholic scared-to-answer explanation was more confusing than the word itself...


Apologies for length - at the time I didn't know why it mattered.
(AshTeamRacing, Fri 31 Aug 2007, 15:29, Reply)

Thousands
of possibilities.

Dressed up in my auntie's tiger print thong and paraded around (alone thankfully). I was 10.

There, that'll do for now.
(Waspard has your wank bank account details, Fri 31 Aug 2007, 15:28, Reply)

oops.
I collected several pounds from my class for charity on a school trip.
This money never went to charity, I spent it on sweets instead.
I didn't really give a fuck about the charity in the first place either, I only got the 'fundraising pack' because it was free.
(and now for someone completely different, Fri 31 Aug 2007, 15:27, Reply)

no warning
at my college (wich also had a blind person school in the same complex), there was this walkway leading from the front entrance to the bus stop. about half way down, there was also a pine tree. one of its braches spans across the width of the walkway, at about 5.5 to 6 feet from the ground up.

anyho, one day as i was standing at the entrance and havin a bit of smoke, i noticed a blind guy making his way down the path towards the bus stop...

see where im going with this yet?

so, i could have givin warning and everything, but curiosity (and miscreance) got the best of me. i didnt give the poor guy any warning.

instead, i just watched with anticipation as the dude (and no joke here, no exageration) whistled his way down the path. happy as a fuck with a smile?! and walked completely unsuspecting, face first into the needly branch. to which he let out this kind of funny, high pitched sounding yelp!!

"bwuraagh!"

ok, so maybe its not that dark of a secret. in retrospect, it wasnt even that funny. i mean, what else is gonna happen when a person walks face first into a pine branch, blind or 20/20?

bwuraagh and blindlol! i should of said something to warn him.
(PonChalice started an ultra back spin on, Fri 31 Aug 2007, 15:26, Reply)

:/
When I was in school, I used to get up early and set back my mom's alarm sometimes. She would oversleep and my sister and I would get to stay home having missed the bus. :B For reasons 'unknown', her alarm seemed to screw up on days of tests or stupid field trips. 0:) I didn't do it often enough for anyone to catch on though.
(NancyycnaN Wðñ'† ¥ðµ §hðw §ðmê ¢l姧?, Fri 31 Aug 2007, 15:22, Reply)

Santa Scam
This is terrible, and I hope that my Mum isn't a b3ta reader (I find it unlikely: she's offended by nearly everything). I've never told anyone this before.

I'd figured out the Santa thing by the time I was 6 or so. No malicious playground revelations, just me putting two and two together and coming up with a rather disappointing four. Christmas was always a massive event at our house, with thousands of dollars spent on presents. I was spoiled, no question. I never told my parents that I knew about Santa, because I didn't want to reduce my haul of gifts. I just continued to write the yearly missive, put out the treats, and pretend that everything was normal.

Not too bad, right? Well, here's the bad, highly manipulative part.

I exploited my knowledge when I was nine. I wrote a letter to "Santa", saying how I didn't want any presents that year, and instead to get something nice for my parents, because they deserved it more. (I feel dirty just typing that.) God, I was a manipulative little shit. But a highly effective manipulative little shit. I got reams of presents that year.

Children=devious and evil. I know that from personal experience.
(BlackArmadillo Avoided writing that article on, Fri 31 Aug 2007, 15:21, Reply)

*hanging head in shame*
Since I have a wireless modem and a laptop, I sometimes surf the web while having a poo.

Just like I'm doing now.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 31 Aug 2007, 15:19, Reply)

Hornet
While on holiday in Spain, I watched a massive hornet settle on top of my sister's bottle of Coke. Then I watched her put it unknowingly in her mouth, whereupon she was brutally stung. She still doesn't know that I could have prevented it. I just wanted to see what would happen.
(frankspencer, Fri 31 Aug 2007, 15:17, Reply)

i <3 u
In my past I've told women that I love them. Purely to get in their knickers.

And you know what? I was lying.
( Weejock, Fri 31 Aug 2007, 15:13, Reply)

Oz! Emigration! Sunshine! Brawny men in shorts!
to quote my dear papa, you would apparently "fuck a dead dog on a chain".

E B-D

Australian sophistication at work...

My guilty secret is that I would, secretly, like to live in Oz and despite the vacuous concept of mateship I love the immigration policy.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Fri 31 Aug 2007, 15:13, Reply)

Explosion
When young (around 8 I think) my mother noticed a nasty sore on the side of my mouth.
Many an old wives tail later she banned me from drinking from cans (pepsi, coke etc) thinking that was the reason.

It was actually caused by me returning to a fire I had started slightly to early after putting an aerosol can on it, the explosion from the aerosol can blew up (among other things) quite a bit of molten plastic that was on the fire, some of which landed on my clothes and face.
It melted on my face causing a mark which lasted for far too long.

Odly I still don't drink out of cans to this very day.
(Opanoid Look sweats dripping off them, Fri 31 Aug 2007, 15:07, Reply)

This might have fit in with the last QOTW....
Back when I was a young Downie in the days where cheap cider and bottom-rung vodka were the order of the night, we also had the problem of where to drink. Thankfully, most of our group had understanding parents who decided it was better that we 'drank under supervision' than loitered in parks where the paedos and killers could get us. However, one such night tossed an almighty spanner into the works when I was about fifteen or so.

A friend of mine, we'll call him 'Mick' for the sake of it being his name, had drawn the short straw for the weekly bender and as such had the arduous task of housing a half dozen or so teenagers in his house for the night where massive drinking ensued. The night itself wasn't too much trouble, everyone got through with minimal damage and most of them eventually got picked up to head home and sleep off the vodka haze. Considering me and Mick lived within minutes of each other, we figured I'd just sleep on the floor, walk round in the morning and all would be well.

I should probably mention Mick is a bit of a sleepwalker now to explain the course of events.

Cue about 2am, Mick has passed out on his bed and snoring away, I'm still drinking and browsing crap on the net when the inescapable urge to drain one out takes hold of me. I get up and go to leave the room, but the door won't open. For some reason the handle is jammed and no manner of rattling it will cause the thing to dislodge. By this point, my bladder is screaming for relief and I know I'm going to pee myself, but decide that rather than drench myself in 40% alcohol urine, I'll go in the corner of the room next to his wardrobe.

A quick unzip and long pee later, I proceed to pass out myself, sleeping against the wall on the opposite side of the room. Next morning, waking up to the sounds of heated discussion in the room, I open an eye to see Mick standing with his folks being berated that he'd been sleepwalking again. Thinking to myself that perhaps honesty is a good idea, I go to speak up but get cut off by his dad who informs me that he's terribly sorry I had to spend the night in a room that, frankly, stank. They made a fine fry-up and continued to be very apologetic the entire morning until I left, and eventually allowed us to leave after palming a few quid to get some lunch later in the day.

Mick by this point was so assured that he had actually done the deed that I thought it a shame to pipe up and burst the bubble. Still, if his door handle had worked, it would never have happened. Most of the drinking sessions occurred at my place after that, still do to this day, and I always leave doors open for people to go to the crapper with minimum effort.

No apologies for length. Mrs. Downies loves every inch of it.

Click 'I like this' if you think I should finally confess after nearly ten years.

*Pop*
(HomeWithTheDownies A towering inferno of penisy pleasure, Fri 31 Aug 2007, 15:07, Reply)

I didn't tell Feddie
I have AIDS.
( Naked Ape call me Caitlyn, Fri 31 Aug 2007, 14:57, Reply)

Plagiarism! Style theft! Lack of originality!
I think (give it six weeks and it might clear up)'s guilty secret is actually that he stole my unique headlining style.

Son of a bitch! Though imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Fri 31 Aug 2007, 14:57, Reply)

All coming back to me now
I once shoved my sister down a flight of concrete steps and pretended to my parents that she'd tripped.

I'd forgotten all about that until now.

She survived, by the way. Two year olds bounce quite well.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Fri 31 Aug 2007, 14:56, Reply)

Drink! Kebabs! Films! Hamsters!
Years ago I lodged with a guy who had this weird set-up where his ex-wife also rented a room. She was a really nasty piece of work and we didn't get on one little bit. She had a sweet little hamsetr who lived in his little cage in the lounge, happily running round and round on his little wheel. This hamster turned out to be a really good judge of character cos every time I took him out he was fine but if she took him out he'd bite her.

Anyhoo, it wasn't unusual for me to come in after a skinfull, get the little guy out of his cage and let him run round the lounge while I tucked into my kebab and watched whatever film was on late at night.

On the last night I was in the house I had been out with a mate who was going to help me move and who I hadn't seen for ages. We got in absolutely steaming. As usual I took the little guy out of his cage and left him to run around. However, we were so twatted that we completely forgot about him and it was only several hours later when we were about to crash that we suddenly remembered him. In a drunken panic we searched everywhere but concluded that he must be hunkered down somewhere and he'd come out in the morning when he was hungry. I closed the cage door and went to bed.

Next morning my mate comes into my room with a big grin on his face to tell me that someone had opened the patio doors to the garden. Shit! That means that the hamster is now going to be al fresco. As I came out of my room the bitch ex-wife was leaving the house with the usual sneer of disgust as she looked at me. I just gave het a shit eating grin, safe in the knowledge that I had inadvertently liberated the hamster from her evil clutches.

As hamsters are noctural I don't know how long it took them to notice he was gone. I'd love to have seen her face when she opened an apparently locked cage to discover that he's escaped!

I think they know it was me as the bloke who owned the place (who was a total nutter) was asking my girlfriend where I was when he met her at a festival a couple of weeks later. Luckily I'd moved to Cambridge!

The guilt? Well, I do feel sorry for the little guy as he probably ended up as a tasty snack for the local cats. Still, he got his freedom.

Length? It'd make your nose bleed!
(give it six weeks and it might clear up would like to butter your muffin, Fri 31 Aug 2007, 14:54, Reply)

Eek.
Err, right...When I was 10, I threw a toy at my three year old sister whilst pretending to be a ninja, it hit her in the face - I told Mum that she'd "ran in to the tree". She still bears the scars.

During a session of baby sitting (my sisters) the biggest fucking spider I'd ever seen emerged. To equal the size of the spider, I obtained the knife equivilent. My Dads ceremonial Arabian knife from when he worked in the army in Oman. I slashed away at the bastard for about ten minutes around the house, to find that the curtains were somewhat damaged...Thankfully I knew that Mum was washing them the next day so I "helped" her take them down ("Aw, thanks for this Beatpig" she said) She also must have forgotten about them, because about ten years later, she got them out whilst I was there...I nearly shit myself, but heard her say "Oh, look at these, some moths have got to these lovely curtains". Big fucking moths Mum. Oh, and I missed the spider completely.

Mum, You know that stain of tea on the hallway ceiling that Hannah confessed to? She was four, I was fourteen and it was me.

Hazel, my ex when you went to the Lakes to "find out whether you loved me or not" and left me to feed your cat? Well, I didn't and when I eventually went around two days later to find it had eaten a cardboard box, I just left it for you to discover. The cat was still alive, though probably blocked up some.

Oh yeah, when you came in to the pub after a long bike ride to proclaim that said cat had puked over the tv? I know, I was with Giles when Moggsy puked over it, we both looked at each other - "Pub?" he asked. "Pub" I agreed and left it to you. We hated that cat.
(beatpig understands subliminalesbianmessagaying., Fri 31 Aug 2007, 14:52, Reply)

doublepenetration
Dear Disasterprone, your feelings for Kate McCann would have more impact were it not for the fact that, to quote my dear papa, you would apparently "fuck a dead dog on a chain".
(Emily Bruce-Dickinson http://jovialfellow.blogspot.com/, Fri 31 Aug 2007, 14:51, Reply)

Three hail marys and a packet of chocolate buttons.
When I was much, much younger I always used to eat waaay too much chocolate before I went to bed. The result of which was generally a really dodgy tum during the night. But I didn't want my parents to hear me get up to go to the loo because then they'd know I'd been sneaking chocolate when they'd specifically told me not to.

So I shat in the cat's litter tray instead.

The result of which was that after a few times of finding gargantuan turds in Kitty's crap box, Kitty got taken to the vets for a shot of "stop-crap" or whatever they give cats to bung them up.

I'm sorry Kitty...
(Rakky (forgot her password) The muffin maverick, Fri 31 Aug 2007, 14:47, Reply)

Careless MILF
Despite her being an irresponsible mother I'd like to fuck Kate McCann too.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Fri 31 Aug 2007, 14:40, Reply)

Robbed some friendly guys
Was visiting America with a friend. We'd met some guys in a bar, but weren't really interested in anything other than chatting and drinking. Had some fun conversation, visited various bars, they took us back to their hotel room....

In my defence, we were very drunk and I thought they were going to rape us. My friend was clearly oblivious to any connotations of going drunk to some random guy's hotel room and sitting on his bed trying on his T-shirt. I managed to convince them to leave us alone in the room while they went to fetch beer from their car, then dragged my friend from the room to the fire escape - with the T-shirt and baseball cap one of the guys had just won in some competition and was very proud of.

We fled down the fire escape and ninja'd our way out of the hotel, peeking round corners for them. Even before we left the hotel, I was feeling guilty about the hat and shirt, and nearly took them to hand in to reception. However, fear of being spotted by the guys on their way back ruled that out.

I still feel slightly sick every time I think about this; the guys will never trust the English again. One of them, at least, seemed like a genuinely nice guy, and I hate having done this. It wasn't intended as a scam, but it seemed to become one. However, I would be more remorseful if we'd stayed, so I suppose it's all good...
(Skittlemcfluff ......................, Fri 31 Aug 2007, 14:38, Reply)