Found in my attic
a very nice aluminium baseball bat which has been waved at the local chavs to keep them in line from time to time.

I left some treasure for the utter twat who shouted at my little girl and made her cry (she's only 22 months old so you know he's a wanker) just because she was playing near the area he was searching with his metal detector. Put the windshield up, dug a small hole, curled out a ripe one and chucked a handfull of small change in with it. Moved on up the beach to watch this arsehole work his way down to the spot. His detector beeped and he dug for the booty. His scream kept me smiling for days.
(boltneck sacrificed a smurf to Cthulhu on, Thu 30 Jun 2005, 17:21, Reply)

clag-nuts-delight
I was around the age of 14 that I grew my first pubic hair. I lead a sheltered childhood, and as the concept of HAIR in wierd places was asociated with dirtyness, I thought it was nasty: so I used to shave it all off. Yes, you can laugh, but noone had told me I was supposed to get hairy there.

Anyhow... I had never even THOUGHT that my arse was going to get hairy. It never got shaved, and I never adapted my wiping style.

Enter "The Attack Of The Clagnuts". Being a Lad of regular diet, and being a lad of habit, My wiping style had sufficed for many years, but my arse was NEVER prepared for the combination of good fiberous stoolage, coupled with the velcrocity of anal hair. Richard O'Brian has been heard to utter confessions of jealousy regarding the lucious density of the afore-mentioned pubic garden...
Moving on Swiftly... My displeasure grew with time. Remeber at school when you grew Copper Sulphate Crystals around a tampon string? Well, it was something along those lines.

It took a year before I investigated the source of my iritation. no less than four serious clag-nuts.... each only the size of a pea, but hard and calcified, and causing blisters with the level of irritation that they had yeilded.

I duly removed them, and from sheer morbid curiosity, kept them with my cufflinks.

Now my un-witting Ex-Fiance wears them as a necklace under the dillusion that they are rare evidence of the existance of a specific type of australian bat.

Nicloa, You're wearing a Teenager's calcified clagnuts around your neck.

OWNED.
( ogwen69 has returned from Reddit, Fri 1 Jul 2005, 3:41, Reply)

Ginger Bottles
I live in London but my family are all from Glasgow.

When I was younger most of my summers were spent in Glasgow. My grandad would collect all the empty bottles of irn bru and coke for me as when you took them to a shop you got 10p on each of them.

My and my friend decided to go on a mission to find ginger bottles (thats what they call the juice bottles) and spent the day walking around the River Clyde.

We came across this sex doll but being ten years old we had no idea what it was. It was deflated and (Its making me gag even writing this) we kept blowing it up but after a couple of mins it kept doing down (the doll)

I decided to take it home to my grans to see if my Grandad could fix it.

Cue me walking into my grans with this half deflated blow up doll with this shocking face with her lips painted red and wide open.

Sadly my Grandad couldnt fix it and I was barred from ever going near the Clyde again.
(Fran, Thu 30 Jun 2005, 15:22, Reply)

Cave Balls
The four of us had nearly finished scrambling through a New Mexico cave when we came across a clear pool blocking our path: we were forced to wade to the exit. We noticed the bottom of the pool was littered with numerous white balls.

The mystery began to gnaw on us: what were these ghostly, golfball-like spheres? We touched one ball, and the white coating suddenly popped and drifted away, leaving a central mudball-like core with what appeared to be little sticks poking out. In the flickering light, we could see there was some kind of strange gas streaming away from the mudball, which just deepened the mystery. We combined our brainpower to decipher the mudball's mystery.

It took a long, long time, passing the mudball back and forth from hand to hand, sniffing the gas, and reaching into the waters to gather other popping mudballs, to finally realize that THIS is what ultimately happens to bats that die and fall into limpid cave waters.
(Perv With A Dog had his eyes pecked out by scrub jays on, Mon 4 Jul 2005, 0:40, Reply)

Scat
Okay so I didn't exactly find this treasure rather it was handed to me.

To begin I work in a Pharmacy and people naturally come in seeking our advice. One day an elderly man enters the shop and hands me a shopping bag without a word. Naturally I assumed he was returning and item; however, on opening the bag I see that he's coiled out some of his own "treasure" in to the bag. The smell was incredible and it being a hot day the bags sides were covered in condensation from his turd. Gagging I looked up at him in disbelief. He then innocently asked if he had worms - he had.
(mm123, Wed 6 Jul 2005, 9:28, Reply)

Hotel Porn
We all know hotel porn is the best find ever and I have a pretty good success ratio. This cumulated in being in a hotel in London with my wife, whereby she was staring at me frantically searching the hotel room.

"What are you doing?"
"Looking for porn."
"Oh come on, what's the chances of someone leaving a porn mag in here?"

At which point I magically produced a mint copy of Fiesta from underneath the drawers. After several minutes of parading about going "HAHAHA!!" I disappeared into the bathroom with a smug look on my face. Even though I was offered sex, it 'defeated the point of finding it' clearly.
(kna has forgotten everything., Mon 4 Jul 2005, 13:12, Reply)

New house in London
With uni mates.

The three of us arrive and immediately see a battered cardboard box under the stairs. It contained a (later discovered to be fully working) electric typewriter, a prize instantly claimed by flatmate #1.

We proceeded to the back garden, to discover a slightly rusted but eminently repairable (and currently in-service, 3 years later) mountain bike, swiftly posessed by flatmate #2.

At this point I voiced the opinion "Right. If we find anything else, it's mine OK?" to agreement all round.

We search the house.

Nothing in the kitchen, lounge, bathroom, master bedroom, my bedroom, third bedroom...

How about that tiny box room over the stairs.

Opened the door to a looooong (5 minutes at least) silence from us all.
Mate #1: "Open it."
Mate #2: "You open it." etc...

Eventually I opened it, found it empty, put shelves in and still use it to this day.

What was it?

An Honest-to god satin-lined six-foot oak coffin.

Weird but true.

P. (apologies for length, formatting, laziness and the self-destructive nature endemic to the human condition)
( Mockingbird Practitioner of SCIENCE, Fri 1 Jul 2005, 16:07, Reply)

My attic
I moved into my house a couple of months ago, but had yet to explore the attic. Inspired by this week's question, I decided to go and have a look.

Now, my house has high ceilings, and I'm not very tall. And I don't own a stepladder. Undeterred, I pushed my desk from the next room under the trapdoor, and clambered up, but it wasn't even high enough to stick my head through the door! So I fetched my stool and put that on the desk. Still not high enough. I went downstairs and fetched a chair and put that on top.

I climbed up my furniture mountain which was wobbling rather alarmingly, and struggled to push the trapdoor up. I stuck my head through, shone my torch around excitedly and found...

...absolutely fuck all.

Then I fell off the furniture mountain as I was trying to climb down and banged my head on the bed.

Thanks B3ta.
(Pachey, Tue 5 Jul 2005, 9:43, Reply)

abandoned village
My old man lives on an island (cheung chau) near Hong Kong. I was visiting him when I were 16, and we went for a stroll on a neighbouring island (lantau - where the new airport is now) and as well as him nearly stepping on a cobra, we found this abandoned village. yep - a whole village. We raided a few of the houses. dad got a load of ming bowls, and I got a bundle of chopsticks, and a dodgy book (in english) about the history of chinese sex.

Another time on the same visit, I came back from a wander rather pleased with myself for finding some rather nice vases. turned out they were burial urns, and contained people's ashes...
(teasus likes tea, Fri 1 Jul 2005, 16:08, Reply)

definately not treasure......
Whilst enjoying a night of sex with my now bitch ex something felt different inside. Couldn't quite put my finger on what it was but it didn't feel normal, imagine my surprise when it turned out to be a condom jammed up inside.
Funny that since we didn't use them and she'd been out the night before "having a girlie night at her mates house"... the excuses I got were great!
(Manatee Fondler, Fri 1 Jul 2005, 11:09, Reply)

Abi Titmuss? Amateur!
When my Mum and Dad were redecorating their house a few years ago, I helped Mum to tear up the carpet in their bedroom. Instead of that soft foam stuff, the previous owner had used newspaper for underlay.

Except, it wasn't newspaper. Oh no. It was porn mags.

Bestiality porn mags.

What a top find - hundreds of grainy, faded pictures of naked women with 70s haircuts, smiling seductively.

While wanking off horses.

And behind the radiator in the bathroom was a large Disney annual. Seriously. Bestiality and the mouse.

I hope the fucker never went to the Magic Kingdom.
( b3th Not shit. Not mod., Thu 30 Jun 2005, 22:21, Reply)

Treasure on the beach
A few years ago I spent a few summers working for an outdoor pursuits centre. One activity we used to do with the kids was beach-combing, looking for interesting stuff at the high-tide mark.

Sadly we had to stop this when one of the groups of children turned up a rather bloated dead body...
(Bids How much is that window in the doggy?, Thu 30 Jun 2005, 16:34, Reply)

My evil stepfather
was a builder. One time he and his chums found a middle ages secret tunnel with a very dead monk in it.


so they bricked it up because they didn't want the archaeologists to come and disturb their building site.
(teasus likes tea, Thu 30 Jun 2005, 16:25, Reply)

Hunt the Jobbie.
Not me thankfully, and a very loose interpretation of the word treasure. At uni some degenerates who i was privelidged to call friends used to play a game in their flat called 'Hunt the Jobbie'. Every week or so someone would proudly announce that the 'Jobbie was set' and everybody would gingerly stick their hands in cupboards for the next day or so until it was located. One memorable time the jobbie remained hidden for well over a week, it slowly faded from memory....
That is until, one day, somebody was making toast and they noticed the odd color lurking beneath the easily spreadable butter.
(Cousin Walter., Fri 1 Jul 2005, 7:18, Reply)

Bloated sheep
Not my treasure as such, but the other week my dog dragged a giant bloated sheep corpse out of a bush, which promptly burst spraying a fountain of green and yellow puss across the path.

More of a 'grand prize' than a treasure.
(cherry B, Thu 30 Jun 2005, 14:35, Reply)

Penknife and Flag
Found a small penknife in a disused site once. My parents wouldn't buy one for me so I was dead happy with my find.
Also found this black and white flag in a quarry. We were going to adopt as our gang flag. And i put it up on a pole on top of our shed. When my dad saw it he nearly had a fit. Unbeknowns to us it was an IRA flag, oops.
(conuil, Thu 30 Jun 2005, 14:07, Reply)

2 treasures for the price of 1!
While working for the military a few years ago in Berlin, I was given the task of cleaning out some of the barracks clubhouses prior to the military pull out and handover to the Germans.

One such Club had a cellar that had been used in the 70s, then closed up due to safety reasons. I was given a broom, sacks and a mop and asked to clean it out.

Stepping into there was literally like going back in time - grafitti on the walls "T Rex forever", "David Bowie I love you", etc and psychedelic paint on the walls.. fantastic.

In this cellar was a door that was locked - I asked the manager for the key and he said it was "lost", giving me a wry smile. Reason he "lost" the key is that we had to hand back everything in a clean state, and this room was right underneath the kitchens, where they had previously discovered that the fryers had been leaking for the past 10 - 15 years. After much begging, he said he would try and find the key, which he did.

We unlocked the door and opened it, to be met with the gut churning sight of a blackened filthy room with sagging greasy ceiling, full of scary ancient defunct kitchen equipment. As the room's centrepiece stood a 4 foot high 10 foot across dark brown lard stalagmite full of millions of dead flies, several dead rodents and a bucketfull of assorted dead beetles and spiders.

We closed the door and threw the key into the forest.

apologies for hairyness of arse.
( Dixipoos Bye Bye Blackbird, Sun 3 Jul 2005, 13:33, Reply)

.
When I was a kid I once found thousands of 'liquorice bullets' scattered under a tree at my uncles country property. I couldn't believe my luck, what a treasure!

They didn't taste right so I showed my mum, she informed me they were actually possum poos.
(Brundy, Sat 2 Jul 2005, 15:57, Reply)

Best treasure ever
One day I was on the internet Googling for the lyrics to the Rednecks' "Cotton Eyed Joe." One hit was to a discussion thread post from someone called "Youngone" to something called "The Question of the Week," which that week was "The Worst Song Ever." I read other responses and had a great time, and have been addicted ever since.

That is how I found the burried treasure of B3ta.

Thank you B3ta! This is the most fun I've ever had on the internet. [Does that make me strange?]
( setimret likes his metaphors mixed, not stirred, Fri 1 Jul 2005, 17:46, Reply)

Hidden room
Not me but some friends rented a flat in Oslo and having lived there a few days they discovered a small hatch on the floor, under a rug, inside a wardrobe.

They opened it and found a ladder leading down to a small room below that had a table and some benches that could fit just about four people.

The walls were painted part fresco / part Edvard Munch / "Scream" style. They found old, empty bottles of absinthe and candles.

They found out later that it was a secret hideaway of the resistance movement during WW2. Clever. Gestapo's HQ was next door.
(dulff, Fri 1 Jul 2005, 1:21, Reply)

Sicilians Love the Hoff
When I was younger I was staying in a rented villa in the north of Sicily. One day I was rummaging around in the attic and I stumbled upon a large cardboard box full of unlabeled videos.
Thinking to my self "Huzzah, the greatest trove of nasty Mediterranean smut imaginable"
This was not to be the case.
It was in fact a large collection of assorted David Hasslehoff videos. Concerts, TV Interviews etc etc.
Not best pleased I can tell you.
(A bit Manchester, Thu 30 Jun 2005, 16:32, Reply)

Non-pc war banter
Was clearing out my grans attic not so long ago and discovered my late grandads wartime diary from 1943. He was stationed in Cairo in a hanger fixing machinery with the locals. Here is an exerpt that brought a tear to my eye:

"Punctuated a good afternoons work by taking part in a 2-frontal attack on Abdul (one of the wogs) using elastic bands. Consequently reduced him to a state of typically 'woggy' rage"

God bless the WWII international comradery.
(Fat_Baz_turd, Sun 3 Jul 2005, 0:23, Reply)

I used to have a hamster. When it died, I was very sad, but life had to go on, and my parents needed to go shopping and get some petrol. We stopped off for the petrol, and what should my aunt find but a £5 on the floor! She gave it to me saying that I can buy another hamster with it.
Next day, came home with 2 female russian hamsters. Was told by the 'lovely' people at PetsAtHome that they are "both female, and both are not pregnant, but if they do get pregnant, come here with the babies, and we will buy them off of you".

Turn out that not only were they male and female, but the female was already pregnant. Ended up with 54 hamsters, in about 20 cages. My mum had to move her bed into my bedroom because the cages took up her bedroom.

The icing on the cake was when we went back to PetsAtHome: "Sorry, we already have a supplier, we cannot buy your hamsters from you".

Net Result:

Treaure Won: £5
Lost: £350 in cages, food, and sawdust.
( OneSullenBrit *air sandwiches*, Fri 1 Jul 2005, 10:42, Reply)

Uncovered and reburied.
A friend once purchased an old station wagon from a much older original owner and brought it over to my place for the sort of cleanup and tinkering I enjoy doing on someone's new ride. While clearing out the years of accumulated dust and crud from the interior, I opened up the footwell vent box on the passenger side of the vehicle and found a thick envelope taped to the side of the box. Opening that up revealed several hundred dollars in assorted twenty and fifty dollar bills. Being honest sorts, we called up the prior owner of the vehicle and were told, "well, it was for emergencies involving the car so I guess it's part of the car: enjoy it." We certainly did: taking care of registration, inspections, plates and a full tuneup without spending any more of my friend's money was especially pleasant - and the last time I visited him he was still using that spiffy old wagon.


On the Upcountry Maui farm property I lived on for many years, we noticed a section of the land where the ground boomed if you walked on it with a heavy tread. After some impromptu soundings to determine the general dimensions, we hired some acoustic analyzers from O'ahu and determined the most likely place to dig for an entrance. We hit paydirt on our first excavation: a shielded entranceway to a twelve hundred square foot plus fallout shelter which we assumed was built during the Duck and Cover era of the Fifties. We called the prior two owners of the land and they said they had no idea it was there. As the owner before that was long dead, we concluded he was responsible for the heavy duty construction work. We cleaned it up and ran electric power and some basic plumbing to it, then effectively sealed it back up again: there really was not much else we could think to do with it as we had several perfectly good houses scattered across the property and were not inclined to rent out a cave to someone else.

I just realized we didn't tell Haku about the shelter when we sold the property to her: I guess that little bit of treasure has been successfully reburied.


Several months after my father had died and we had finished all the details of his passing, I returned to the islands to spend some quality time with my mother. During an episode where we cleared out dad's closet space, mom said I was welcome to the old training revolvers (we used blanks on hikes with the setters to acclimate them to gunshots for those unfamiliar with the practice) and his favorite shotgun. As we folded up his shirts and pants to donate to a local charity, mom handed me his overstuffed tie rack (nothing but high quality thin silk ties: my dad's formal fashions would do a rude boy proud) and a box filled with his various money belts saying, "he traveled with you the most: I think he would like you to have these. And if you find some money in them, so much the better." Five belts, seven hundred dollars. Thanks, dad.
( Felis Concolor, Fri 1 Jul 2005, 8:03, Reply)

In my student days..
On my merry way home after a nights drinking and I find a group of mysteriously placed traffic cones. 'Bingo!' I think, and proceed to take them home to decorate the old pad. Amazingly the next day, on my way to uni I found a car down a hole in round about the same spot as I found the cones the previous night! I think it maybe some sort of lucky spot.
(I've done it so many times it's boring now..., Tue 5 Jul 2005, 14:12, Reply)

2 days ago...
I was feeding my cat, as you do. And in the cat food i found a beak. A tiny little beak.

Which was odd. And to make it more odd, it was chicken cat food...and the beak looked like a ducks beak. I'm hoping it was from a baby platypus.
(Joesus, Sun 3 Jul 2005, 17:42, Reply)

always try before you cry
One teenage Christmas I opened a pressie from my Aunty who lived in the USA. It was a pair of black woolen gloves, not really matching the quality of her previous gifts or the rather more generous ones my brothers and sisters received that year.

I felt rather put out and paranoid as to why my Aunty would treat me differently.

Made worse when my birthday came just three days later and all I got was a card.

Fast forward a couple of years to a chilly morning. I remember I have the pair of gloves in my sock drawer go to put them on only to be stopped by rolled up tenners placed in every other finger.
(e.o.t.m.c., Sat 2 Jul 2005, 0:59, Reply)

Baghdad Booty
About a week before I arrived in Baghdad, the hotel I was going to stay in took eight direct hits from some big Russian rockets. I got assigned a room next door to one of the rooms that got hit. You could see where the missile had come in through the blast shield, through the window, through the wall of the bathroom and had detonated in there, blowing the wall down and turning the previous occupant (who'd been asleep) into a series of tea-coloured stains splattered all over the walls and the ceiling.

Ah but what booty he did possess, whoever he was: Two entire cardboard boxes filled with FHM, Maxim and porn. We also used his room to evade the stupid security rules and hold clandestine parties. We called it the Rocket Room.
(junglejim, Fri 1 Jul 2005, 4:59, Reply)

Hundreds & hundreds of bodies
When I were but a nipper, somebody decided to build a house on the vacant lad next to my parent's old gaff. I was messing about in the newly dug foundations when I tripped over something; after going back and kicking the object out of frustration and hearing a popping noise, I decided to investigate by having a wee dig. After about a minute it became obvious that it was bone, and then it became obvious that it was a human skull.

Long story short: pictish graveyard, over 300 bodies, one of the best examples ever found, and my picture in the Fife Free Press. Yay!
(Zapol Unlurked at, Thu 30 Jun 2005, 22:14, Reply)

Little mouse
When I was 11, in a sand pile I was digging through once, I found two dead mice in a Flora tub. I think they were wrapped up in Winnie the Pooh kitchen roll.

I then remembered that about a year earlier I had buried this tub because my sister told me that if I got a complete mouse skeleton, then it would be worth £500.

She still laughs about it now, and I can't remember if I washed my hands after picking up these mice or not...

(first post, please forgive me)
(piffpuffpickle, Sun 3 Jul 2005, 20:02, Reply)