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This is a question Ignoring Instructions

When I was small, a friend of mine waved a big plastic bottle at me and asked me if I "wanted some drinking yoghurt?" I pointed out the "do not drink" label, but no, he was convinced this was a big jug of a particularly strange, liquid yoghurt that was briefly popular in the 70s.

He was sick for hours, after consuming a suprisingly large quantity of washing liquid.

What instructions have you ignored?

(, Thu 4 May 2006, 11:24)
Pages: Latest, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, ... 1

This question is now closed.

During my first few years of childhood - I had a lot of fun with cats.

I was always bollocked for doing things with cats. I remember one bizzare incident when I was about 7 and at the vets with my mum and our tortoise-shell. The vet stuck something up the cats arse... Amused, I asked mother what it was - 'a thermometer' was the response. Intrigued, I pushed it in right to the tip. Oh the joy of watching the vet struggle to get this thing out of the cats starfish. The cat was none too impressed either.

Anyway, onto a different cat and a few months on. Cat is stuck in my room. I have a pair of scissors. Hmmmm. What to do. I remember a few weeks earlier asking my mum what the cat used it's whiskers for. I was told it was so they could feel their way through dark places and balance (spatial awareness for us nerds. SNIP. Off they come.

Cue mother coming home to see strange looking cat. She couldn't quite figure out what was wrong.....oh, hang on, cat doesnt have whiskers. Odd. Even top whiskers near eyebrows have gone.......'Who's chopped off the cats whiskers??' Reply = 'Not me'..... Mother proceeds to go into my room and finds scissors and a pile of neatly laid out whiskers under bed. Has to get dad to bollock me as she's laughing so much.

I love cats now, but back then it was rather amusing to do these sorts of things to them. Especially when you're told not too!!
(, Thu 4 May 2006, 17:26, Reply)
I can't believe they ain't butterflies.
My grandfather used to keep his own miniature moth cryogenics lab in his study on the bookshelf. It mainly consisted of a miniature fridge, intended for beer cans, turned up full blast and a hand operated tiny pump which was linked up to each of his six "patients". Each morning, before his tea and toast, grandfather would hobble across to the shelf, carefully balance his two walking sticks against the fireplace below, and give the handle of the pump five slow turns with his less than nimble arthritic fingers, thereby cycling anti-freeze through the tiny mothy veins of his half-dozen lepidopteron frozen dead wards. As we were living in my grandfather’s house for most of my childhood, I saw this scene almost every morning of my formative years. It is unsurprising then, that one of the first things I learnt to read was the "Do not touch" sign next to the small array of levers next to his macabre moth mausoleum.
It wasn’t until I began to bring friends home occasionally from school that I even considered that there was something strange about this set up. Friends would at first be bemused at the reasons for grandfather’s odd hobby. Soon and inevitably, however, this curiosity would redirect itself towards the levers and what would happen if they were ever touched. My friends made wild guessing suggestions. Perhaps they would switch the entire machine off. Perhaps they would alter the thermostat such that the moths would catch fire. Perhaps they would bring the moths back to life.
Eventually, in the company of one of my long standing school friends, Kenneth Williams, I bit the bullet and asked my grandfather why it was so important that we did not touch his tiny levers. His reply was curt and evasive; “Just don’t” he mumbled in his old man’s voice. And that was all he would say before turning his attention back to his large print book.
From then on his morning routine changed. He would still waddle over and carefully turn the pump’s handle but now, as he turned to join us in the kitchen, he would see me watching him perform his ritual and, raising a wizened finger to point at the levers he would slowly, purposely and authoritatively state “DO… NOT… TOUCH.”
And so I didn’t. I did not touch. All through primary and secondary school I did not touch. All through primary and secondary school rumours spiralled out of control amongst my friends as to what would happen if ever anyone did touch those levers until eventually they had concocted a quite detailed and ridiculous horror story about zombie moths breeding and attacking and killing and destroying if ever we did touch those malevolent controls.
So good was the story, that one Halloween in my early-teens, while hosting a sleepover the dare was too perfect and too horrifying to be refused; “push the levers.” And it was me that was dared. And so, with my two friends watching from the safety of the stairs, at nearly midnight on Halloween I found myself tiptoeing across my grandfather’s study toward the lepidopteron tomb. With one last glance over my shoulder to catch the excited eyes of my chums, I reached up to the levers, brushed the sign to one side and… thrust all of them forward in one go. The silence was unbearable. All three of us remained transfixed. We did not dare tear our gaze from the moths as we awaited an insecty apocalypse we were sure would unfold before our eyes. Though only ten seconds must have passed, they felt like a whole lifetime. Then it happened.
It started as a quiet tapping. Then a thudding. Then a thunderous drumming. As I turned to seek courage from the eyes of my friends, I saw my grandfather running towards me just before he smashed me in the jaw with a hockey stick. Blow after blow followed. Until he looked down at his bloodied pulp of a grandchild and mumbled “I fucking said do not touch.” And went off to bed chuckling.
(, Mon 8 May 2006, 20:19, Reply)
Do not mix with any other chemical

However me and my mates had some fertilizer (EDIT: might have been weedkiller now I think about it) that was about 70% sodium chlorate.

We thought it would be fun to mix it with sugar and light it.

It took a fair bit to light due to the fact it contained a flame retardant, but when it lit boy did it burn. The small pile we'd put on my mates path burnt a hole through the paving slab.

Cue experiment number 2. Copper pipe with a sealed end. drill hole through the side of the pipe and fill with previous mixture. seal other end of pipe. place match heads over hole, light and run like fuck.

Provided that you sealed one end less than the other, it will blow from the pressure and act like a copper rocket (not a ginger blokes cock).

Cue us boasting later that week to our chemistry teacher about our discovery.

Obviously our knowledge of pyrotechnics was limited in comparison to his, as he proceeded not to tell us to stop doing it because it was dangerous, he told us to take a few basic safety precautions

i.e. DON'T LET IT GET WET!!!!!



meaning that if it gets wet the whole tin (in which we had about 2 kilo's of the stuff) would commit suicide in the shallow grave in which it was hidden at the end of my mates garden.

Unfortunately for us, his parents got back from holiday that morning and we were therefore unable to dig the tin out without being spotted by the concerned parent gestapo.

3 days later a loud bang was heard in the middle of teh night which his parents put down to a car backfiring outside.

A 6 foot crater was at the end of the garden, and full of water due to teh heavy rainfall the night that it went boom.

They still know it was our fault, but they don't know how it happened.

Still, it killed 2 garden gnomes in the process

length? warum?
(, Wed 10 May 2006, 9:40, Reply)
You know that stuff that comes with football boots and says 'do not eat'?
Ate it.

Nearly died.

Don't eat it.
(, Thu 4 May 2006, 18:27, Reply)

After a lot of running around (4 weeks) and general shit they finally issued us with bayonets. And, being the Army, a lecture on your bayonet.

"A bayonet is a sword. It goes on the end of your rifle and is for sticking in people. You cannot throw a bayonet. They've been specifically designed so they *can't* be thrown and I don't give a fuck what you've seen on the telly!!"

Lecture over. Corporal moves away. Bayonet whips through the air and sticks in a tree just above his head....

"Legless!!" "I saw that you fucking horrible turd. What have I just told you!!"

"That you can't throw a bayonet" I mumbled. "I was just checking"

"Well check this out - MAP reference 62,34,27 there's a tin can on the top of the cairn. Go and get it for me."

15 miles in full pack and rifle (with my bayonet) with an enraged corporal screaming at me from the window of a 4-tonner......

I really had to learn to keep my mouth shut and my head down......

(, Thu 4 May 2006, 14:09, Reply)
While the then boyf was changing the oil filter on his car
I wandered over to the book case and picked up the relevant manual.

Hmmm, I thought, how clever the boyf is, to attempt that job without the manual.

Turning to the 'How To Change Oil Filter' page, I read 'do NOT attempt to remove old filter by piercing it with a screwdriver...'

Just then, a strange strangled sound was emitted from beneath the car, as the Boyf learned for himself that the rest of the sentence read (I paraphrase) 'because if you do a load of fucking oil will shoot up your fucking sleeve and you will fucking bang your fucking head on the fucking underside of the fucking car.'
(, Thu 4 May 2006, 14:19, Reply)
I was on a singles website
And ticked the 'accept terms and conditions' box without reading them.

Thus I completely missed the instruction "by contacting anyone on this site, you accept that having sex once is worth being dragged into a vortex of someone else's mental illness."
(, Fri 5 May 2006, 9:24, Reply)
Old Houses
When I was a nipper, about 11, I was playing in some derelict houses, chucking bricks at my mates as you do. Well this casual chucking bricks at each other escalated into an all-out war with two teams. One was holed up in an old house, and were lobbing bricks at anything that moved, and me and my team were outside trying to take the building.

As I'd seen far to many war movies as a child I decided that the only thing to do was to storm the building! I armed myself with a dustbin lid as shield and a half brick as my assault weapon and launched my assault.

On the way in I fended off a couple of well-aimed bricks with my trusty bin-lid and managed to make it into the shelter of the ground floor. All I had to do was take the stairs and I'd won.

So I moved towards the open stairs and heard a voice from above. John Winters.

"If you try and come up here I'll stove your bloody head in" quoth John

And with that he started to roll lumps of concrete embedded with half-bricks down the stairs towards me. Not being a total loon I backed off and flattened myself against the wall out of his line of sight.

"I'm warning you" yells John. "Come up here and I'll smash your head in."

And so I waited. for about the next ten minutes big lumps of debris continued to rain down the stairs and then silence. He was out of ammo! Yay! After about 5 minutes I waited and then cautiously stuck my head around the corner to see what he was up to.....

And woke up in an Ambulance. Blood everywhere. Turned out I had a shattered cheekbone and a fractured skull (hairline).

The funny side to this story was that after John had realised what he done he burst into tears and begged the Ambulance guys:

"If he's dead, don't tell his mother it was me!!"

but now when someone threatens to smash my skull in I tend to believe them. Just to be on the safe side.


EDIT - Gleeballs - AH! You're using the "it doesn't count as daytime drinking if you haven't actually sobered up from the night before" rule......
(, Thu 4 May 2006, 13:19, Reply)
Unwritten instructions
I've a bad habit of disobeying life's unwritten instructions. You know the sort? Along the lines of "Don't attempt to eat this giraffe"?

I'm fairly sure there's one that states, "While using a steam iron, be sure to wear pants."


A friend responded to my anguished sms with:

"It is with great trepidation I say that I always thought you had a hot pussy."
(, Mon 8 May 2006, 16:02, Reply)
"Don't go near swans, they'll break your arm."
Will they bollocks. In years of proximity with swans, neither I nor anyone else I know has ever sustained a fracture off one. Not even a black swan, and everyone knows they're the highest level.

Mind you, I did get savagely mugged once in the Norfolk Broads by a mallard duck. Cunt flew off with my Marmite sandwich.
(, Thu 4 May 2006, 16:28, Reply)
When having my eyebrows shaped 5 days before my wedding:

"Now, I've just applied the wax. Whatever you do, DON'T open your eyes"

God love her, the beautician managed to individually pick each of my eyelashes out of the cooling wax, resisting the urge to stab me in the eyeballs with her tweezers. For two weeks after, if I opened my eyes too wide they glued open. Which looked lovely in the photos.

Luckily I got married in Las Vegas so at least everyone else there was fatter than me.
(, Thu 4 May 2006, 16:16, Reply)
Is ham Islam?
Years ago, one of my mates was a Moroccan migrant. His family were practicing (but not hardcore) Muslims. One night we were heading out for a Chinese meal and his mum explained that they observed the Islamic taboo on eating pork products: "Never let my son eat pork because if it passes his mouth he cannot enter heaven."
Fair enough, we avoided the sweet and sour pork, the meal was great and my mate still gets to play Space Invaders with Allah.

Months later, he was at my house and I made some sandwiches for us.
Ham sandwiches.
I honestly hadn't thought of ham as being a pork product.
He took a bite and asked me what it was as it was "the best thing he had ever tasted". I told him it was ham.
He looked at me in horror and said "I'm eating pig? I can't be eating pig."
In a flash I remembered that ham does indeed come from pigs and told him that I was just kidding and that it was actually “specially seasoned beef”.
He was cool with this and was in raptures over the taste.

So sorry Mrs. Hajid for not following your instructions and at the risk of getting a fatwa placed on me I have tell you that no way is your beloved Fetah getting into heaven.
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 11:18, Reply)
Scuba Diving
Lots of safety rules. I have seen all of them broken.

1) "Never dive alone" - Whoops, count 1 missing, presumably dead BSAC dive officer in charge of SAFETY. (Shame, t'was a nice guy).

2) "Always surface with 50 Bar (1/4 tank)" - In the Galapogos I got a bit concerned when the dive guide kept siganalling "OK" when I was down to 50, 40, 30, 20 then 10 Bar (5 percent of tank left), NO IT'S NOT FUCKING OK! I DONT HAVE GILLS YOU TWAT!

3) "Never drink or smoke before a dive" - Diving instructors are huge pissheads (generally) & more than one has blown fag smoke into his BCD for an underwater blowback later on. Luckily you can vomit through a requlator and there is nothing more charming than watching a fish feeding frenzy on recently blown chunks.

4) "Dive Knives are tools not toys" - So why were you re-enacting 'Thunderball' by having an underwater pretend knife fight then?...

5) "Leave the wildlife alone" - ...And why did you stab that fish?

(, Thu 4 May 2006, 16:38, Reply)
"Don't tread on the cracks or the bears will get you"
Fucking bears. I want my arm back.
(, Thu 4 May 2006, 13:44, Reply)
Oo I got another one
Working with dangerous machinery without following the safety instructions is bad enough, now imagine you are thick as shit.

This is the story of a colleague of my boyfriend's when he was working in a factory job to support himself at uni.

The guy was working on a machine that cut cardboard with a big fuckoff blade. In order to save time a lot of the workers would routinely flout the safety instructions by leaving guards up on machines etc. The inevitable happened and this guy managed to lop a finger off in the machine - house red everywhere, a month off work recuperating, finger could not be reattached so he was left with a little finger stump.

On his first day back he is having a sickness review with his boss. 'So you're feeling better, all ready to come back to work?', 'Oh yes' says the stump fingered guy.

'One thing I still don't understand' says the boss, gesturing at the machine, 'is quite how you managed to cut your finger off in the machine!'.

'Oh, I just did this' he says...

and sticks his hand into the machine.
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 23:48, Reply)
When I was about 12 we had the special class about abstinence and baby-making. We all had to take home an electronic baby-thing that would cry and you'd have to stick the correct key into its back.
The teacher told me to make sure I supported its head(which was on a hinge) or the "ABUSE" light would come on and it'd cry forever.
Well, I wasn't careful enough and let its head fall back. It snapped off of the hinge and rolled across the floor, and the thing started to scream, no key worked so I had to yank the battery out.
So I showed up at my teacher's house on Saturday with a beheaded, disemboweled baby in my arms. I still passed the class somehow.
(, Thu 4 May 2006, 16:51, Reply)
Bossy computer
A few years ago I was just at the end of a 6 hour Championship Manager session. It wasn't entirely succesful. I was getting back-chat off Lauren Robert and the cheeky sod was missing training and then being obstropolous when he received a fine for doing so!!

So I wasn't in the best of moods when I saved and closed it down. The next thing I know I press 'start' and 'shut down' when a message appears on screen saying 'It is now safe to turn off your computer.' Well, I was fuming. The very idea that my computer would dispense advice and instruction to me was intensley irritating. I decided to disobeye the command to show that technology will never prevail over humanity, and as I did so I screamed at my computer screen "Terminator 2 will never happen you bastard!!". The screen remained unchanged and so began a 3 day stand off. I sat and stared at the monitor, it glowed back "it is now safe to turn off your computer"

On the fourth day I left for work. Struggling to keep the computer off my mind I began punching colleagues and doing wee-wees in to the photocopier. At mid-day I swore I could see my computer waiting outside my office window in the rain, just staring at me. Waiting for me to do as it says and shut it down. But never!!

I made the most sane decision of my life and left town. I've never stayed in one place longer than a couple of days since. I know that computer is always just around the next corner and that's why I've got to keep moving.
(, Tue 9 May 2006, 8:13, Reply)
"Do a U-turn"
This was the instruction that puzzled my dear, ditzy friend, Suzy and her mother. It was being voiced at regular intervals by their GPS system. Suzy, and indeed I, live in Southend-on-Sea and Suzy had a job interview in Romford. For those of you unfamiliar with the geography of Essex, it's about an hour's drive away if there's traffic and you stay on an A road the whole way there.

So naturally, Suzy's mother was driving their car on a motorway. Precisely which motorway is a fact I've never been able to find out.

"Do a U-turn"

So Suzy and her mother keep going, bemused by this bizarre and outlandish instruction. After all, they were on a motorway and certainly can't have been expected to do a U turn. The GPS must be faulty.

But no, and I don't really know how to say this in the punchiest way that will get the biggest laugh so I'll tell it to you straight. Suzy's mum pulled over after... a while. Trying to get to Romford, as Suzy has told me, they ended up (and I quote)

"somewhere in Wales."
(, Mon 8 May 2006, 20:02, Reply)
Never burn Marmite
All these microwave stories remind me of an ex-work colleague of mine, known (non-affectionately) as Wanky Mark. We were working in a newly-opened Virgin Megastore at the time.

One midweek morning, the fire alarms went off. Dutifully obeying instructions, I left my office and proceeded to the evacuation point outside. Through a thick fog of choking, acrid, ORANGE smoke. I have never smelt anything so foul before or since.

Luckily, the tiny blaze was contained in the shiny brand new microwave in the staffroom and had gone out before the fire brigade even arrived. Wanky Mark had decided, as Mr Branson's budget hadn't stretched to a Breville sandwich toaster, he would try MICROWAVING his Marmite sandwiches. Wanky Mark had never used a microwave before. Did he consult the instruction manual still sitting on the top? Did he fuck. He set the microwave on full power for fifteen minutes and lumbered off down the corridor for a leisurely shit.

The result? A couple of grand in lost revenue, one fucked microwave and a whole corner of the staffroom permanently stained Fagnolia beige.

On our return, he still retrieved his sandwiches from the microwave, tentatively nibbled on a non-charred piece... and promptly broke a tooth.

Thick twat.
(, Sat 6 May 2006, 16:39, Reply)
Food tech.
So, we're all lined up at the beginning of another lesson of Food Tech. Knives at the ready, today we're making pizza. Miss Judge parades the line of eager, wide-eyed faces.

"Boys, do wash your hands. The amount of idiots who went to the loo straight after chopping their chilli and came back in tears last lesson was ridiculous."
(, Thu 4 May 2006, 17:45, Reply)
CLOSED ----------------- OPEN
On the top of a nitrous oxide gas cylinder, the above instructions can be found. To change the gas bottle, it is wise to make sure the CLOSED intstructions are adhered to. If not, you and your colleague may be stood in the enclosed room giggling like loons whilst trying to turn off the mega stream of laughing gas emerging from said cylinder.

As you may be aware, nitrous oxide is used as an anaelgesic and in surgery as a secondary form of anaesthesia. Two scrubbed-up people wielding scalpels and artery clamps whilst pissing themselves laughing does not look professional, especially when one of them suffers from stress incontinence.
(, Thu 4 May 2006, 16:39, Reply)
I was once told "don't put that up there"

I shouldn't have put it up there.
(, Thu 4 May 2006, 13:31, Reply)
Medical problem
I once had a very serious knee injury, and spent 2 weeks on these ultra-painkillers just so I was able to be awake. They were the business, but on the bottle was the worlds biggest "do not drink alcohol whilst on these pills".

Friday night and straight to the bar after work. 1 pint won't hurt. That one went down so quick I thought another would be ok.

10 minutes later, at 7pm, I'm being taken from the pub by some friendly people in yellow coats as I'm halucinating, and basically I started throwing everything I can at the devil behind the bar. Apparently, I threw bottles and ash-trays at something behind the bar, but no-one else could see anything or get me to stop.

Luckily, the ambulance bloke knew what to do as my friend handed the pill packet to him, and he gives me something to help. 3 hours later, I'm wrapped in a blanket in Queens Med, shaking like mad but with my eyes only seeing normal things again.

I went ack to the pub the next day, and it turns out that Satan was the cat in the Bacardi advert. I like cats, but when ever I see those adverts now, I still feel a bit wierd to say the least.
(, Thu 4 May 2006, 13:29, Reply)
Worst chef in the world
(no, it's not late from last week)

When I was about 12, my family lived in a college for a year while my parents studied. There was a chef who did breakfast (put boxes of cereal out) and tea (deep fried stuff), lunches you had to fend for yourself.

Part-way through the year, the college got a microwave. This was late 80's so they weren't as common as they are now. The chef had never used one, but as you would expect, he threw the instructions in the bin.

Now, he'd heard that one of the things most frequently cooked in a microwave was baked potatos. He also knew that a microwave speeded up the cooking process considerably. He thought he'd give it a try.

So, wrapping up all the baked potatos in foil (coz that's how you'd do them in the oven, right?), he packed them into the microwave like a bricklayer filling a hole in a wall.

Then, as everyone knows, baked potatos take a good 3 hours in the oven. Masterchef here decides to give them an hour and see how they look. Then goes out.

Returns an hour later to a lump of melted plastic and charred embers.

F x

PS I was gutted, having just discovered the joys of microwave popcorn :(
(, Mon 8 May 2006, 17:10, Reply)
Cooking mishaps
When my parents went on holiday, i was left to cook for myself (i was old enough to know how to cook, 14 or so - but never really had as my mum had fulfilled her task properly).
I was given strict instructions that if i was to use the toaster, i had to pull it away from its "resting place" flat against the wall. I was given no reasoning, just told i had to. Anyway, i wake at the crack of noon and think some toast is in order. In goes the bread, and i go up for a slash while i'm waiting. Come down the stairs to find foul tasting and smelling smoke filling the living room and kitchen. The thermostat on the wall had melted due to my lack of following instructions. As a result, molten plastic had also dripped into the toaster, rendering my delicious meal inedible.
Bollocks i think, and set about opening all the windows in the kitchen and living room to get rid of the smoke, whilst covering my mouth with my sleeve (foolproof smoke filter).
Still hungry, i decide to use to oven to grill myself some toast up. This time i recalled the instructions "if you use the oven, make sure you take all the other trays and pans out first (for some reason my mother keeps all that shit in the oven when its not used, because our kitchen is tiny). So i set about taking all the pans out, banged the grill on and went upstairs to open the bedroom windows too. Come down about 2 minutes later and think "fuck me, the smell and smoke isnt going!". Walk into the kitchen and open the grill for my delicious toast. I had left a plastic egg poacher in the oven, which was now melted to the bottom of the oven; once again acrid smoke filled the house, and the jumper had to be employed to filter out the harmful toxins.

Had cereal in the end.
(, Sun 7 May 2006, 17:24, Reply)
Blue Nose
In a chemistry lesson at school, my friend's little brother, at the tender age of eleven was cheerfully heating up copper sulphate in a beaker over a bunsen burner.

"Careful!" warned the teacher, knowing that he was working with a group of curious, over-enthusiastic and overwhelmingly idiotic boys "Don't any of you stick your fingers in the copper sulphate, it'll turn them blue.."

"Hmmm," thinks Jonathan (for that was his name), "I wonder what happens if I stick my NOSE in the copper sulphate?"

He turned up to choir practice that day with a blue nose.
(, Sun 7 May 2006, 0:51, Reply)
(, Thu 4 May 2006, 22:36, Reply)
Newbie tuesday
HI ALL am 14/m/tx like th bord want to make lots friends lol. I LUV METALICA was wonderin if any ov u cud mebbe help me wit web design im not gud with computersLMAO go to my website www.metalicaizcool.com sign my gestbook if u do lol

see ya later


A note in legible, non-retarded english:
Welcome as you are, new types, if you don't read the manual (FAQ), B3ta may break (you). Disclaimer: Metallica is spelled with two Ls.

(, Thu 4 May 2006, 18:52, Reply)
Computer modding the hard way
My first term of college doing a computer technician course I was told to de-essemble a computer completly and then put it back together again. The instructions (or suggestion to me exact) was to draw a diagram to help you work out where everything needs to go back and to wear a braclet thing to stop from shorting out the circuit boards. "Nahh" I thought as I ripped cables and jumpers from the mother board.

Putting it back together didn't seem that hard at all, things seemed to only go in 1 place and so thats where they went. So I turned on the computer to see if it all worked and the little light on the front came on and somthing beeped... but nothing appeared on screen... "shit" I thought as I opened up the box to see what was wrong.. allas I could see no reason for it not to work.

As the end of the lesson got nearer I decided that cheating was the only way to look smart and so i swapped he computer with the guy who was on the next workstation who had gone to the bogs. I didnt have time to test that his worked but I assumed he knew what he was doing since he looked like a traditional computer geek.

So time ends and the teacher comes round to see them all work. He gets to the guy whos computer i'd swapped with and as expected it didnt work. So the teacher opens the computer up and looks inside and says that he has shorted out the video card. Then it comes to me and I nervously turn my computer on... Nothing happens.. nothing at all... so the computer shell gets opened and nothing has been plugged back in at all. Every wire is just stuffed into the box not actually plugged in or anything.

I couldn't believe it not only had he not been a computer geek but he didnt have the common sence to draw a diagram and didnt want to risk putting things in the wrong place. I appoligised to him for trying to cheat but he didnt mind as I had been made to look like a real tard. College just went downhill from there
(, Mon 8 May 2006, 21:42, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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