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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.

I'm going to hell because
a friend of mine died recently so I went on her FB wall and wrote a message about how sorry I am that she's gone...

I read through a few other messages and saw one which said:

'You are with the angels now'

I laughed a bit and then felt bad, so I'm off to hell...
(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 15:57, 1 reply)
I know I'm going to Hell because....
I kissed a girl and I liked it.
(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 15:49, 7 replies)
Driving the bus to hell, he is.
This past summer for Fourth of July, the boyfriend and I went to a local outdoors music venue for some orchestra and cannons and drink. To celebrate US independence, we listen to 1812 overture, which has everything to do with Americans. ... Well it has cannons, and that's really all we wanted from it.

Anyway, We're laying on our blanket in the grass amongst a sea of red and white and blue blankets, sparklers, children, and their drunk parents, when a man walks by of probably 50 years old and is followed by a man who looks a bit younger but who was clearly retarded or had some mental condition.

Boyfriend has a sad, passing tone in his voice, and following the man says, "It makes me sad when I see old retards, coz I'm like, 'Shouldn't you be dead?'"
(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 15:44, 2 replies)
on the subject of T-shirts
I have a bright pink one that states "Jesus loves pornstars". Funny how the faithful get all het up about it, especially americans... seems that they don't know their scripture at all, as i've had many people getting in my face about it, only to be told that in their sacred book, the Christ loved the sinner but hated the sin. Seems to puzzle them, that..but apparently i'm still going to The Hot Place, presumably not for the shirt, but for annoying the faithful. If i'd known that actually it's predominantly american tourists that determine who is and isn't going to hell, i might have behaved differently in the past. If i believed in the flying zombie jew tales. And if baiting them wasn't just so much fun..
(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 15:28, 1 reply)
I once won a competition in the local paper
Well, second place anyway.

Remember the role playing books in the 1980s? Written by Ian Livingstone I think.

The competition involved answering three questions about these books and sending off the coupon. My entry was selected and I was invited to attend the prize ceremony at a local bookshop.

Before I was given my prize I was asked how many of the role playing books I had. "All of them" I replied.

What I failed to mention is that I'd nicked every single one from local bookshops, including quite a few from the one I was standing in, during school lunch breaks. Shoplifting was a bit of a pastime at our school.

And my prize?

A £5 book token.
(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 15:25, 5 replies)
I used to amuse myself winding up my flatmate's little boy.

"Legless? Why's it raining?" he asked me in a little voice?

"'Cos you've been bad and made God cry......"

The look on his face always made me giggle inside.

Then it got serious. I told him that Santa wasn't coming this year as he'd been gored to death by his reindeer.

Good joke. Puzzled little boy who wasn't sure whether or not to believe me. And then I forgot about it until his mother cornered me one night.

"LEGLESS!!" shrieked the 5 foot tall, 6 stone mother.

"Who me?" I winced, trying not to cower.. (NOTE: If you want to know why I was a little scared of this wee lass, try to imagine a 5 foot tall, 6 stone SPIDER!. Puts it into perspective, doesn't it...)


"Err - nothing?"


(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 15:24, 4 replies)
Baby P (again)
yeah it was shame, yeah some people fucked up. No I really couldn't give a toss.

He's dead...ho hum......

*waits for next child related media sensation*
(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 15:21, 7 replies)
Baby P
This QOTW is so tempting, i actually had to register an account after just lurking for years.

The most recent reason for my trip to hell, is only short.
My friends have recently moved into a new house, and we were off to the shops to get food for a sunday roast. On the way home see a sign "please take" and a giant beanbag.
"You are having that" says I, grabbing and bringing it to their home.
On the way we discuss why it was discarded, the obvious answer was "it's full of dead babies, they put them in there so they can abuse them easily and have a comfy seat. Poor Baby P"

...And so now the beanbag has been named Baby P.
Baby P brings us all much joy, as we settle down and get cosy on him to watch tv or play computer games. Unfortunately he has taken a bit of a beating and does leak a bit, so baby P has been spread all around the living room floor.

that'll do me for another couple of years
(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 14:50, Reply)
Impulse buy items
im going to hell because when waiting in line at places like starbucks, morrisons and such places they always have impulse buy items such as chocolate and magazines,once their parents are sufficiently occupied by the transaction or their children are far enough away. I will get close enough and casually wisper to the little darlings 'im going to kill you' then stand back in line and act like nothing has happened... the look of shear terror followed by the crying and one of them actuallt wet themselves! gives me a warm feeling inside... i think it might be hellfire
(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 14:46, 3 replies)
I Love Horses is merely embarrassing.

Lemonparty causes all kinds of nasty HR problems.

NFSW warning needed.
(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 14:39, 10 replies)
sorry for posting two stories so soon, but i pissed myself laughing at this one.
A friend told me about someone who got sacked from McDonalds for giving someone 7 STDs, by spunking onto their burger.

He's going to hell for doing it, and i think i'm joining him by laughing so much at the cruelty to an innocent customer (might not be innocent, not sure of all the facts but that's the main story)
(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 14:38, 14 replies)
do NOT click the link in the post below.
it's to lemonparty.

(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 14:38, 19 replies)
The reason why I'm off to hull.
Well as said in an earlier post [Mod edit: Naughty link to lemonparty] I have a thing for being a bastard, I use this bastard mentality a lot sometimes to my advantage but most times just to be a bit of a dick to others really.
(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 14:28, 11 replies)
I was a bit worried…

about the prospect of going to hell.

But now I know you lovely people are all going to be there…I’m actually quite looking forward to it.
(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 14:24, 3 replies)
Been saving this
For when I have time at work....

Have just written this and it's quite long, so apologies now...

Not too long ago, when I was still in yooni and times were passed in a blurry haze of booze, noodles and furious masturbation, one of my friends did something mildly Hell worthy. But funny. But Hell worthy....

It was one balmy night, the day had finished, the sun set and all was as it should be in a student house. Friends had come from far and wide for what was to be known as 'Pat's Birthday Party'. An exciting title you'll agree.

This was to be such an event that even the slightly weird neighbours had worked their way in to our celebrations. One could only guess how. Probably via the door. It's not for me to dwell on.

Much mirth was bandied about, everyone in high spirits for the night ahead, the excitement high in everyone's expectations. Many were quaffing ale, some were playing drinking games, there's one with his testicles on my friends head.



Ah, yes. The much revered 'teabag' technique. I told you those neighbours were strange. They had been there for a full 45 minutes before the overwhelming urge to reveal ones nad-sack and place it ever so gently on to an unsuspecting strangers head had taken hold.

'These are truly students of the highest order!' was the unspoken thought amongst many.

'Fucking, What the fuck!? Fucker! AAH!' was the spoken from the victim.

'I'll get you, you Fucker!'

The bar had been set, the gauntlet thrown and the challenge accepted. He would get revenge, and it would be sweet.

To the end of the night, and the early morning, nothing more was heard of the silent duel between these two. No more shameless revelation of nether regions or wanton name calling.

Until that is, the wronged victim awoke in the morning, giggling to himself. At once pleased and proud. Very much like a cat presenting you with your 'gift' of half a mouse in the morning.

'Pray tell!' exclaimed a few, 'Why the childish glee?'

He could barely contain his brimming excitement, and with a fit of laughter explained the reason.

'Well, I was wondering how to get back your neighbour, and it came to me on the way home.'

His stunning bit of deviousness?

Piss through the letter box.



Even more hilarious when Pat went next door to see if there was any cleaning of fluids being done. Any help needed to contain the territorial markings of a drunken idiot. and there was none. Nobody had noticed any alien fluids, that's for sure. What a mystery!

'Ah' piped Steve from the other front door.

'That's not the one I pissed through....'

Yes, he had indeed pissed through the wrong letterbox. At this point the two thought it best to head back inside, lock the door, and never speak of the incident too loudly again. Not whilst in that house anyway.

They never properly met the other victims next door. Apparently They were not the partying type, and probably wouldn't see the funny side of having a stranger wee through their door anyway....

Somebody's got themselves a ticket for that one...
(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 14:16, Reply)
The other night in the pub
Me and a few friends were playing pool, and doing the childish thing of trying to put people off when they are taking their shots.

There were people pole dancing with their cue next to the person, making rude gestures etc. Then one lad decided to shout insults at him and came up with the good ol' insult, "you molest kids", and said this to everybody. Then when it was his turn i may have shouted "you're the one who plays with kids, you killed Baby P".

I think its safe to say that im off to Hull for that one.
(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 14:11, 2 replies)
Extra Protein
An old Jewish orthodox room mate of mine thought he could use me for free rides and not have to pay gas, call me a nigger half the time, and just generally made me want to punch him for being a cock. Well, while I had to live with him and tolerate him for 9 months, I was secretly jizzing in his milk carton every week for 6 months. Not only was I happy that i was getting some revenge, but that I finally found someone who swallowed my load consistently without complaining. Unfortunately for him, I'm not kosher.
(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 14:02, 4 replies)
Medical School
Anatomy students are divided into small groups and issued with a cadaver with which to learn about the human body through dissection.

The cadaver should be treated with dignity and respect at all times. It is never, I repeat never to be removed from the college morgue, dressed up and taken out on the piss.

Identifying a participant of a medical students piss up as being actually dead can cause distress to all concerned. Especially if the deceased has been sat in the noisy pub for some twenty minutes before anyone notices that they have in fact ceased to be.

I was myself very drunk when told of this anecdote by a medical practitioner friend, so I cannot vouch personally for the tale. I am informed however, that the students involved are blacklisted to the point that they cannot study or practice medicine anywhere.

The cadaver involved went on to enjoy a successful career impersonating Leonard Cohen.
(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 13:43, 7 replies)
A friend of mine
No really, a friend of mine (We'll call him Matt for that is his name), used to sell a lot of weed at school. On one occassion, a kid he sold it to took umbrage at the quantity/quality of the narcotics and decided the best course of action was to inform the head teacher of what was going on. Matt was duly summoned to the head's office and seeing the other kid sat outside, immediately twigged what was going on and damn near shat himself, painfully aware of the half ounce of grass he had in his rucksack.

The two sat outside the office for a while, exchanging frosty looks until the other kid was called in, to give his version of events before Matt had to face the music. Matt noticed that the other kid had left his bag behind and did the only sensible thing, transferred his stash from his own bag to the other guy's.

The other kid came out, Matt went in and was duly told to empty his bag. With his best look of innocence on his face, Matt emptied the contents of his bag and asked politely why he had been called in, there being very little of anything in there and certainly no drugs. The head told him he'd been accused of selling drugs to which Matt replied that the other kid had it in for him and was making up stories and in fact it was the other guy who was the drug dealer. The kid was called in, searched and found to have a large quantity of drugs in bag.

Matt was exonerated and lost about £30 worth of weed. The other kid was suspended and given the proximity to the GCSE's, missed rather a lot of important learning time and failed most of them as a result, thereby ending any aspirations he might once have had about going to college and uni thereafter. By all accounts he's now a Tesco lifer...

I've done some pretty horrible things in my time but essentially fucking up someone's entire life to avoid getting in trouble yourself takes some beating in my book.
(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 13:42, 14 replies)
Oh the merry red...
Many moons ago, our Saturdays were spent purchasing cigarettes, cigars and spirits... So it was much in this vain that we arrived outside New Street station - slightly drunk, and smokey.

A rabble of 17 year old youths with time to kill for the next train; outside went we to the smoking area... To be greated not by one of the many pan handlers saving for their ticket to Rome, but a police cordon.

Intrigued we made a nuisance of ourselves, speaking to the coppers, trying to get on tv.. when we spotted a not small - ie large pool of blood trickling under the one far barriers.

What else could we do but tip our toes into said gloop... whimpering with glee - this is real person sauce.

I think it took all of 3 seconds to get bored of such marvels and decide that we didn't really want to be implicated in any dna evidence, so, ever vigilant, we walk back to the crowds... of course I walk backwards...

Where I kick a passing nun in the shin.

So, I really will be sent to Coventry, and besides signing my own warrent to said pokery place, I learnt that day that nuns aren't interested in crime scenes.

- a dad went postal on his wife and kid in the car park...
(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 12:59, 4 replies)
Bless me father for I have sinned....
I'm probably not, on balance hell bound just for this one, but it's an update for this

anyhoo.. this horrible child wouldn't leave my mate Chris on his own one Friday afternoon. Now, Chris was sitting on his own in the lounge minding his own with a post-work pint, which he does every Friday. He's a sociable cove the rest of the time, he just likes to decompress from the working week. So there he is being pestered by this ten-year old boy, who won't leave him be. So whilst pulling a real-ale type pint, I asked Chris about his weekend plans..
"You still up for that felching weekend next weekend, though?" I asked, Chris responded positively, "You know what kit to bring with you this time?" he asked.

We then went on for about ten minutes describing worm charming,


including team tactics, equipment etc etc..with this appalling, snot caked groinfruit taking it all in, just calling it felching...

He's not actually been into the pub since I did that. I'm sure it's just a coincidence. I know that they have show and tell at the junior school still, I'm sure thats a coincidence as well..

Using my UV post-code pen to draw BDCs on all the tenners in the till is probably going to send me down for the barbecue, really...
(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 12:07, 1 reply)
When in Rome
I used to travel through Rome airport for work and the place is just full of those dressed in black of the faith.
So as one with a rebellious nature, I decided to wear my favourite tee-shirt of the time, a CRASS one, for those you not into this band, there was a slogan on it "Jesus died for his own sin's not mine".
Personally I think I've condemned all those penguins who read it to Hell, judging by the looks of venom I received on such visits.

Serves them right for stealing everything from other religions then destroying them.
(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 12:05, 2 replies)
Laughing at others.
I was taking myself home on my trusty chariot when I chanced upon a kerfuffle in the road ahead. It seemed as though there was a ballet of Chelsea tractors, where one was cocking about in an attempt to park in their drive, while another two were faffing about in the road, moving only inches at a time in their best attempt to make life as difficult as possible for their four wheel drive friend.

I sat dispassionately a few meters along the road and accepted the delay to my journey. The same can't be said, however, for the cyclist I noticed approaching from a distance in my rear view mirror. Nonchalance abound I watched him weave his way along the road, making swift progress towards where I was slouched on my bike.

He trundled past me and showed no signs of slowing as he made his way toward the gridlock ahead. The 10 or so yards between me and the blacked out window of the Chrysler Child Killer 120 TDI were dispatched in a few lazy rotations, and his front wheel made firm contact with the man sized rear bumper, propelling his head into the stationary vehicle.

A couple of seconds seemed to pass before he began his cartoon like slide toward the ground, with a perfect squeak and a trail of face grease following his road bound descent. The thud he made on impact seemed to shock my fellow witnesses into a stunned silence and everyone waited with baited breath for some movement from the now prone cyclist. Everyone, that is, except my good self.

If anyone had looked closely at the motorcyclist sat patiently up the road, they would have seen tears streaming from his eyes. Had they not been clucking over the dazed cyclist, and taken a moment to notice, they would have seen the same motorcyclist almost fall off his bike as laughter shook his entire body; laughter that would have reverberated loudly around the enclosed street were it not for the full face helmet that ensured it remained muffled.

I sincerely doubt that this little act of cuntiness on my behalf is enough to warrant an eternity among the fire and brimstone of hell. It was pretty fucking funny though, becoming more so as the cyclist scraped himself off the tarmac and staggered a bit, before swooping down to pick up a can of Strongbow, and then launching into a diatribe about how it was the fault of everyone bar himself.
(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 11:50, Reply)
After a night of DJing
I'd stayed with a friend in London, and I was making my way back home, through a busy Liverpool Street Station.

So, there I was, standing in the bustling station, a filthy hangover in my head, a warm bottle of water in my hand, and a large metal box of CDs on my back.

Squinting up at the departures board, I managed to find the train I was looking.
As "Platform 14" slowly processed through my vodka-slowed membranes, I felt a *thump* on my back.

I slowly turned around, and saw a small boy on the floor, crying.
After a few seconds of powerful mental detective-work, I figured out that the kid had run, full-pelt into the corner of the metal DJ case on my back.

This deductive genius was confirmed by the trickle of blood running down his head, and his crying.

I'm ashamed to say that I was laughing so hard that I had to run to the toilets to be sick.
(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 11:44, 6 replies)
I have already been to hell.
Well, I went Christmas shopping on Oxford Street yesterday afternoon.

I hate everyone.
(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 11:35, 4 replies)
I have done wrong
So much wrong.
Little lies, big lies.
More lies.

But still everyone seems to think I'm a nice bloke. I don't think they would if they really knew.
(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 11:06, 4 replies)
Apologies for lack of hummus...
I'm going to hell, because I left my wife and destroyed the holy sanctity of our marriage. She’s a devout Christian so this kind of thing was important to her; even though the counselling wasn’t working and phrases like “If I’d known you better before I married you I wouldn’t have married you” were being bandied around*. Apparently it’s better to stay together and be miserable “working at it” than it is to realise enough’s enough and make a break… well, in her opinion anyway.

I’m also going to hell because I now live with my new girlfriend, but even though I have scarred myself permanently with a tattoo containing her initials and we have a joint lease (something I never had with my wife, I lived in her house and paid her mortgage) and a joint bank account, we haven’t had that few minutes of betrothal to make it all legit O_o

And as if that wasn't enough, I’m also going to hell because I have on occasion spent time telling people how my devout Christian ex-wife is the most judgemental person I’ve ever met and how her and her devout Christian friends and family all now refuse to have anything to do with me, while my unbelieving-therefore-doomed-to-burn-for-all-eternity friends have stuck by me – even the ones who are family of exes**.

Apologies if I sound bitter – unfortunately, it’s because I am. I still want to see my ex and tell her just how unfairly I think she’s treated me… I’m working my way through it, but posts like this stir the embers.

*She said it first, and I told her that I agreed...

**I’m not saying that all Christians are like this, by the way – I do have Christian friends who I met through the church who I still see, and it’s all cool. Also a very good friend of mine who’s a b3tan as well as Christian was a huge help when the ex and I were splitting up.

(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 10:34, 5 replies)
Poetry Corner...

It’s great to see some excellent quality poems turning up on QotW. Here’s one to lower the average standard…

EDIT: UK folk - It helps if you sing the following to the tune of the anti-piracy 'Knock-off Nigel' Ads...

Eternal Damnation: How bad can it be?

“You’re going to Hell!” They cried out, my heart sank,
When they rumbled me having my favourite wank
Over pictures of Jesus, and Maddie, so cute
And a nice one of Hitler in full-on salute

‘Oh, but that’s not so bad’ I hear some people say
‘You’re no racist, no paedo, you’re not even gay!
& we’ve all done some ‘naughty’ things, why don’t you tell…
What you really think has you condemned down to Hell?’


I will speak to the vicar about anal lube
I will wear a back-pack and shout ‘BANG!’ on the tube
I will make any pervert look more like a monk
In a restaurant I shout: ‘This soup tastes like my spunk!’

I call everyone ‘cuntstick’ whatever they do,
I write stories of sex, degradation and poo.
I will fart out in public and blame it on dogs
I will loosen the handrails on disabled bogs

I will howl at the ‘downs’ kids and act like a mong
I will flop out my cock when I know that it’s wrong
Then I’ll fwap in shop windows and make children cry
I wear horns and a trident when ‘god squads’ drop by

I break 7 commandments each time that I shite
There is no way that I can start putting this right
So I’m banished to hell & my soul is now wrecked.
After all, I’m a B3tard…what did you expect?

(, Tue 16 Dec 2008, 10:19, 13 replies)

This question is now closed.

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