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This is a question I'm going to Hell...

...because I said the Lord's Prayer backwards at a funeral to summon up the Goat of Mendes, Freddie Woo tells us. Tell us why you're doomed.

Thanks to Kaol for the suggestion

(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:09)
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This question is now closed.

first page
woop and such
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:52, Reply)
When I got confirmed

I was stoned as a badger in a glue factory and couldn't stop laughing at the other chap whose middle name was Waverly.

Also I am now an evangelical Atheist if thats not too much of an oxymoron.
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:51, 1 reply)
Let's start off with
not being baptised
not being christened
not being confirmed (someone please tell me I'm me!)

but purgatory doesn't exist anymore (please can someone explain to me how the fuck they got away with that little gem : "oh... no it's not really. don't worry.") so I don't even get the possibility of hanging out with the unbaptised critters.
Straight to the firey inferno with me. Woot.
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:50, 2 replies)
In sympathy
I sent my friend an 'In Sympathy' card as a joke birthday card one time. On the front was a picture of Jesus being crucified. To take the edge off it I drew shades on Jesus.
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:50, 1 reply)
I once knocked one out in a confessional booth for a bet
whilst giving confession.
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:49, 4 replies)
I'm going to hell.
Because I’ve just been for a wank.

In the Bristol Eye Hospital.

I’m not even a patient there.

Well, at least if I go blind…… wooh! Who just turned the lights off.

Length? About 5 inches shorter than it was an hour ago.
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:49, 10 replies)
I was at St. Peters in Rome last summer
And sent a postcard of the new Pope back home through the Vatican post. I'm probably going to hell because I crudely altered the picture so that he had a cloak and was saying "Come to the power of the Dark Side!"

Also, we have a condom hidden inside a hollowed out Bible in our kitchen. In case of emergency.
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:46, Reply)
i sold my soul
for good looks,charm,money and skills.
unfortunately,while the devil did promise to keep me young,he didn't promise to stop the development of full-on neuroses,so here i am,agoraphobic,nihilistic and addicted to sleepy-time pills.
i shoulda had a lawyer look over the contract.
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:46, 2 replies)
I'm going to hell because
it's warmer there than in my living room.
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:46, 2 replies)
I am going to Hell because...
Despite being a general un-fussy, un-pernickety consumer of food, I always push the mushrooms in any meal I have gently to the side of my plate. I always feel guilty because I know that I am responsible for about 2.5 tonnes of fungal wastage throughout the course of my life. This could have gone to starving children in Thurgoland.

Also I am a coprophiliac.
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:42, 3 replies)
GOSH. Sorry,
On my very last day of my last job, I got taken out for a liquid lunch.

After stopping for cigarettes I was wandering back to the office on my own when someone stopped me and asked me for directions to Great Ormond Street Children’s hospital.

The face looked vaguely familiar and I suddenly realised it was the actor Mark Addy (fat bloke from The Full Monty, Viva Rock Vega and stuff).

Now, I don’t know why really, but he has always annoyed me. (possibly because of Viva Rock Vegas actually) so in my slightly white wine influenced state instead of directing him to the hospital, I sent him off in the other way by describing the route to The British Museum and off he went, getting further and further away from where he was aiming.

Then I went back to the office, packed up my stuff and we all went to the pub to get on with my leaving do proper.

At some point in the evening I thought to tell a friend about what I had done to Mark Addy.

And they pointed out that he could have a sick child or relative in Great Ormond Street. Or he could have been a patron turning up for a charity thing. Or he could have been going to allow the sick kids to meet Fred Flinstone.

And, basically, that I was a cunt.

I could do nothing other than agree.
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:41, 3 replies)
Because heaven dosen't want me and purgatory's too boring.
In reality, I'm a lapsed catholic and happily atheist, but don't feel the need to display my contempt for religion.
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:41, 3 replies)
Things I've done that will ensure hell for me.
One day at School, circa 1987, the Gideons bible people came to give a presentation on their work. Every student was given a free bible, onion-skin paper encased in a latex faux-leather cover. For the rest of the day the school was full of proto-chavs, myself included, smacking each other on the back of the head and claiming to be bible-bashers.

I kept that bible, and many years later used one of the pages to skin up with when we'd run out of Rizlas. It seemed funny at the time, but it (or the cheap lager) made me very sick indeed.

So was this whitey my punishment for my drug abuse and wanton biblical hooliganism? Or do I have an eternity ahead, up to my neck in boiling shit, treading on burning coals, with only the Jeremy Kyle Show and Strictly Come Dancing for entertainment (probably on flat screen TVs hanging from the roof since the Devil has the best technology as well as the best tunes)?
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:38, 4 replies)
I stole a fossilized skull from a church when I was young and nihilistic.

It was very small, probably a child's, and there were two of them next to each other just behind the altar. I only lifted one. Nothing dramatically Indiana Jones-esque happened.

For a while I burned candles on it, and it looked suitably Gothic when covered in dribbly wax.

Then I used it as a bookend for years.

Occasionally I wondered if my miserable and tortured existence was the result of some curse I had brought upon myself.

Then I forgot about it.

Until I had a fit of conscience a few years ago and returned it to the church with a note explaining my regret, and my phone number should the vicar wish to pardon me in person.

Thankfully he did, and I found I had made an old man very happy before he retired.

Presumably my ticket to Hull has been cancelled.
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:36, 13 replies)
At my youngest sister's baptism.
As one of her Godparents I had to renounce the devil.

I had my fingers crossed behind my back when the words were spoken.

I'm sooooooo going to hell. I can feel his fiery breath on my neck as I type this now.
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:33, 1 reply)
A load of people saying "first".
QOTW gets better every week.
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:27, 19 replies)
Probably one for "Bastard Colleagues"
Chap I once worked with was the most snivelling, insincere individual it has ever been my misfortune to meet. You know the type, he'd greet with a simpering "Hello mate!" first thing in the morning, before turning the knife on you at the first opportunity your back was turned.

If he had no ammunition to make your life unpleasant, he'd either go through your desk or would simply make something up which would be shared round the workplace. He brought several colleagues' careers to a juddering halt simply because he thought they looked "gay" or if he perceived them as a threat of any kind. If they weren't bullied out of the firm, he'd plant evidence of wrongdoing.

The trouble was, he held a somewhat senior position of trust with the firm.

We fell out.

Fearing a possible tribunal hearing, one of the bosses brokered a compromise and I duly received a simpering apology, which was accepted. All was forgiven, everything was forgotten.

Being a particularly hot summer, this chap would lazily saunter off outside for a cigarette break every couple of hours, leaving his unwashed coffee mug on the kitchen worktop while he smoked. For three months of summer this continued.

Being a particularly hot summer, I was blessed with an array of unsavoury substances to liberally smear round the rim of the coffee cup. For three whole months I had to ensure that any outward display of smirking was curtailed.
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:24, 3 replies)
If you see Nelson, tell him I'm sorry
As a bewildered young man, my politcal views veered wildly between the Young Conservatives and the Socialists Workers Party, essentially depending on which circle of college friends I was most desperate to impress.

I soon found that the SWP had the best of the booze-ups, while the Tories harboured the best posh totty 1980s Bracknell had to offer, which wasn't saying much to be brutally honest.

It was during this confused period of my life, I was one of dozens who piled onto a hired coach, where we were bussed to London to take part in a rather excitable South Africa Apartheid demo in Trafalgar Square.

Except - desperate to impress a slim young thing called Esther who always had spiders legs showing at Wednesday swimming club – I was kicking for the blues that week and the demo was one to KEEP that no-good leftie terrorist Nelson Mandela in jail.

Sorry, Madiba. I bought your book if it's any consolation.

First class ticket to Hull. Window seat, please.
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:22, 2 replies)
1984 (the year, not the book)
My 4th year juniors class had a tour of the Kent village vicarage next to our school. It was very dull but much better than school.

I stole a picture of the vicar's daughter in a bikini (she was about 17 I suppose) and flashed it round the school afterwards.

I found the photo about 3 years later in my room and had several crafty shermans on the strength of it.

Not too bad?
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:21, 4 replies)
I'm going to hull...
...for flirting with a girl at a gig who, I was to find out later, was only 16. This was when I was a sprightly 29. In my defence, she DID look a lot older in the, erm, dim light of the club.
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:19, 2 replies)
Not believing in any God, I'm doomed..... or not.
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:18, Reply)
This could be a good week.

Where do I start?
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:18, Reply)
we had a huge partners christmas lunch here yesterday and all the old partners who retired years ago were also invited. we've just moved to a brand new building, and whilst everything is all shiny, it can also be a bit temperamental.

one of the old partners, a guy in his 80s, got stuck in the dodgier of the two electronic revolving doors, as he wasn't quick enough on his tottering old sticks. he got nicely jammed in it. he was shaken and disturbed.

i happened to be walking in the other door and i was laughing all afternoon at the sight of the poor old giffer. doom!
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:18, Reply)

EDIT: Bum!
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:18, Reply)
Serpent's Tongue
I may have posted this in some form or another before but this fits nicely in with the topic as one of the most singularly evel things I've ever done.

As I've mentioned in various posts I had a rush of blood to the head cock at 18 and ended up engaged and then married to my first girlfriend. A silly, naive move on hindsight for many reasons.

Now, I'm a merry little atheist, but had suddenly found myself spliced into a heavily Jehovah's Witness family. My wife had been given an opt-out at sixteen which she had taken, but her thinking was still sullied by residual lunacy from her upbringing.

To make matters worse, her parents had taken an obvious dislike to me straight away. They had actually told her, when we had just started going out, to dump me as; "He's the spawn of the Devil!" (How I wash I was only paraphrasing there!) Obviously, I found this hilarious, my father and very catholic mother, predictably less so.

From then on, the relationships between both sets of families were strained like a constipated sphincter. My mother and her's especially. They could barely stand to be civil to each other in the street, and there were a few instances where I thought I was going to witness the Great Menopause Massacre of 2000 in the middle of Hawick High Street.

I knew what her family thought, and didn't much care, but when an opportunity for some prime mischief arose, I wasn't about to pass it up.

My wife and I had moved into a little flat, and when she wasn't working on the deli department in the local Safeway, her mum would come down to the flat, have a tea and they would go out shopping.

On the day in question, this was to be the arrangement. Now, our relationship was tempestuous to say the least and was played out to the tune of screaming matches, broken dishes, accusations of sexual inadequacy ("You've never made me come!" "That's because your a fucking sack of spuds!"), and vague threats of domestic violence.

We were going through one of those 'rocky' periods, although rocky in the same way an active volcano is still ostensibly rocky. This is why she was surprised and a little pleased by my administering a nice morning donation of my best oral.

This wasn't a magnanimous gesture on my part however, far from it. I knew her mum was coming round. After it was over, she went for a bath, during which I heard the familiar ring of the doorbell.

"I'll get it!" I yelled cheerfully, opened the door with a gleeful flourish and planted a great big snog with a stray tongue straight on her mother.

She looked bemused and frightened. I then pretended nothing had happened, sauntered back into the kitchen and popped the kettle on.

I still today this day wonder if she ever realised she had just tasted her own daughter.
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:17, 18 replies)
Woo, my suggestion!

I've got LOTS of stories to follow.

For the time being, have a story about drugs and violence:
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:15, 4 replies)
Third is the best I could manage. :(

Edit: Does anyone else fear that this QotW will be nothing but one giant repost from the Cringe QotW?
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:15, 3 replies)
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:14, Reply)

Not bad for L-plate loss? Although maybe less interesting than most. =[
(, Thu 11 Dec 2008, 13:14, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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