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This is a question Messing with people's heads

Theophilous Thunderwulf says: What have you done to fuck with people? Was it a long, carefully planned piece of psychological warfare, or do you favour quick, off-the-cuff comments that confuse the terminally gullible? Have you been dicked with, and only realised many years later? Are you being dicked right now? Tell us everything.

(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 11:25)
Pages: Popular, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

Knock knock, punch
A few friends and I back when we were younger tried a kind of pavlov's dog experiment on a class mate.

It consisted of knocking twice on anything and then punching him in the arm.
It didnt take too long before all we had to do was knock and he would flinch and twich.

Looking back it was a cunty thing to do.
(, Fri 13 Jan 2012, 0:00, Reply)
When I was about fifteen
my parents were going out of town for a week or so. They had my brother-in-law come over to stay with me.

Just before they left Dad made a big show of counting how many beers he had in the fridge. I felt rather insulted by this- for one thing, I don't like Miller High Life as it's basically carbonated donkey piss.

I told Larry of this when he arrived, and he agreed that that was a bit idiotic. So when we were shopping for dinner makings we had an idea.

When Dad returned he found his four bottles of Miller in there, with eight pony bottles of Miller in a circle around them.
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 23:54, Reply)
Sitting in a crowded restaurant/bar downtown
with my wife and kids, getting dinner, the only table we could get was in the back next to the bar. There were loads of twentysomethings there conversing and flirting, including a girl whose butt was practically on our table.

I was irritated by this, but then had an inspiration. I got my son (who was out of her sight) to start putting sugar packets into her purse. After about five minutes he had the sugar bowl empty, with her none the wiser.

She finally noticed when he was trying to get the salt shaker in there as well...
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 23:47, Reply)
Right, where were we?
Those of you perusing page one of this Question of the Week. will have seen my latest troll of the local community noticeboard. This one went up just last night:

Imagine my surprise, then, when I strolled past on the way to Iceland for a nice pie to find this distressing state of affairs, for eg: No notices at all, my arch-nemesis having ripped down my signs within a day of their first appearance...

Well, fuck THAT. This is what they'll find in the morning:

Now, THAT, my friends, is a head fuck.
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 23:18, 7 replies)
eating someone else's bogey
I was a a yoof camp and we all ate together in a big hall. I decided it'd be fun to gross out the people on my table.

I bought a jar of cockles and ate all but one big one. I pulled all the orange bits off and what was left looked like a huge disgusting bogey. I then carefully wrapped it in a clean hankie and gave it to my accomplice.

About half way through the meal he pretended to sneeze into the hanky, then did that thing people do of looking into it, at which point I leaned across the table, snatched the bogey and ate it.

It was very effective. Everyone just stared in horror, a couple of people went green and one or two started retching.
Very successful one that.
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 23:14, 3 replies)
Two little bears....
My dad used to buy cars...a lot. Not particularly fancy cars (although some were to be fair). He just liked cars, so changed car quite frequently. So frequently that he used to have a 'curio' shelf in his garage. A shelf with odd delights found in new (second hand) cars. There was a gravity-driven mickey & minnie carrying a barrel of beer, a load of squeezy toys, a few rude objects etc...
On one occassion, a new car he'd just bought had two wooden bears hand-carved out of wood in it. They weren't really very good. At the time, I had a wood-burning stove in my converted garage (converted to a bar donch'ya'know).
He gave them to me to use as fuel...only, I quite liked them.
I put them in the car and went home. I forgot about the bears until the next day when I got back in the car to go to work. I snuck (is that a word?) back into the house and put one bear in the oven, and the other in one of the kitchen cupboards.
The misses obviously found them, didn't realise that I had them, but played along anyway. I'd forgotten about this by the time I'd got home from work, and just carried on as normal. I climbed into bed that night to find both the bears under the covers on my side of the bed.
The next morning, I put the bears on the garden path.
The next day they were in the drivers seat of the car.
Increasingly, the bears were placed in bizarre places in a silent and lengthy game of tit-for-tat.
One morning, I went to leave for work and they were on the opposite side of the road in a neighbours garden. I grabbed them and moved them again.
I told the misses last night that putting them in 'Mutton's' garden (his name was Geoff, what else would I have called him?) wasn't a good idea as he was a cantankerous old git and probably wouldn't find it very funny.
She told me that she'd only put them on the top of my car.
To cut a long story slightly shorter, the bears were now moving about on their own. It was no longer a silly game between just the two of us.
The bears would end up in neighbours cars, half way down the road to work (about a mile). Some considerable effort was going into finding more and more imaginative places.
This continued for many months.
In the summer months, as we had the bar fully finished by then, we invited all the neighbours round to ours for a BBQ/Bar opening.
Everyone, apart from the two lesbian women who lived behind us attended. That night, yep, the bears appeared INSIDE my next door neighbours house. We didn't find this out until the next day.
The obvious answer was that it was the lesbian women who's been fucking with our heads. I confronted them about it (nicely, I wasn't banging on the door demanding to know what was going on with my bears or anything) the next time I saw them, however, they were going through a messy breakup and one of their grandmothers had just died as well, making their denial seem all that more real.
We never did work out who was moving the bears, but, and I know how sad this sounds, it really was quite good fun while it lasted.
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 22:59, Reply)
I'm scared of clowns.
Not real clowns of course. Just people who dress up as them.
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 22:33, Reply)
When I was young & stupid. Alt - Jay got the boot...
When a group of us young blokes were going thru the rite of getting cars and then licenses we would often go out for a drive during the evening. One of the shenanigans we got up to whilst doing said bog-laps was for 1 of us to ride in the boot. This would then be followed by such silliness as - hoonish behavior, blowing said boot-occupant out through the keyhole, burnouts, bush-bashing and bumpy roads etc. I know - exciting times, right?
So anyway one night we suggest Jay (one of the more sensible and sometimes nervous members of our little cadre) has a go in the boot. Jay declines quoting stupidity levels and road statistics at us. Eventually we *ahem* coaxed him into the back. Snuggled up on his blanket in the boot Jay warns us "Guys, don't do anything dumb. Please." as the lid goes down.
A loud (enough to be heard in the trunk) convo ensues where suggestions are made as to where to take Jay on this his boot-cherry popping ride. Of course the local shops carpark is done as this is somewhat of a speed-bumpy rite of passage. Then we're stumped. "I know", says my mate Andy. "Let's go to the cemo." So off to Karrakatta - the local cemetery we go with Jay banging on the bootlid and complaining loudly. After 15 odd min. tooling (respectfully) around the cemo late at night we suddenly screech to a halt and all of us run screaming from the car.
And then as quietly as possible regroup -trying like fuck not to piss ourselves as poor old Jay's plaintive cries echo thru the night. The car is still idling and we are all (trying very hard) to be quiet. Jay's shouts and bangs are starting to become more and more panicked.
We silently start jacking the car up (2 of our number are apprentice grease-monkeys and can do this standing on their heads, in the dark whilst getting a hand-shandy). We also pop the hood and play with the revs etc. By this time Jay's noises have reached fever-pitch. We then started to try to pry the boot open (the car was Andy's and truth be told was a shit-heap - Andy didn't mind the odd bump & scrape). By now Jay is screaming obscenities, threatening blue murder to whoever is outside the car and trying to kick out the backseat.
Cue us walking silently away, having a smoke and coming back some minutes later. Andy pops the boot and a urine-smelling Jay flies out with a tyre-iron in his shaky grip. Much hilarity ensued.
Length? The two weeks it took for Andy to total his car (luckily relatively injury-free) and pretend he was his older brother when the cops arrived at the scene.
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 22:29, Reply)
Enough talking, it's time for action!
Let's put all this head-mess-withery into action and Occupy /Board! I'm sick of the one percent using ninety nine percent of the bandwidth or something.
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 22:17, Reply)
Some guy that we didn't really know, he just kind of hung around with us, we used to spit at him and tell him to fuck off but nothing worked.
So one night, we slipped home some LSD. Two microdots, powerful stuff.

Carl had come prepared, the black bags were in his pocket.

I had the keys to the room.

At the peak of his trip, we struck. Jumped him with the black bag, over his head and round by his arms. Kicked the fuck out of him, switched the lights off and then locked him in there.

We did it again, half an hour later.

We kept doing it, every half an hour as he tripped his tits off on a massive, unexpected dose of LSD. He'd never taken it before. We continued like this for a couple of hours.

We never saw him again.
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 21:59, 28 replies)
We were sitting around in
Greekie's room, Greekie and Yorkie and Nameless Bob and me. I can't remember why we were there, but for the purpose of this tale let's suppose we'd been drinking. There was a picture above Greekie's fireplace, him in his fatigues during his national service days, which they still have in Greekland. In the picture he still had hair, and we mocked him for this.

"Want to see a real picture?"
We nodded, yeah, ok. Greekie opened his bedside table and pulled out a book. There was a photo between two of the middle pages. He held it up for us to see.

Several years earlier, Twenty-Four was sitting in the back of a truck. It was dark and sweaty and claustrophobic. There was no light as there were no windows. He could hear the driver's radio through the wall in the cab, and the suspension creak as the truck clambered the roads of the hill country on the Greek-Albanian border. Like the other 22 men in the back of the truck, he had sat in a tense, hopeful silence since they had crossed the border. He wondered what it looked like outside. He imagined something a bit like Endor, with more hills and less merchandising. Almost there, he thought, almost there. The driver had said he could get them over the border. That was what they'd paid him for.

The driver muttered and banged on the wall and the engine slowed and they came to a halt. He could hear voices from the front, over the radio. Then the back of the truck flooded with light, and the silhouettes of two soldiers stood framed by afternoon sun.

The soldiers spoke no Albanian and the passengers no Greek. The soldiers gestured them out with their guns. They were on a remote road in the woods. There were around a dozen soldiers. They corralled the passengers into a gap in the trees just inside the forest. One of the soldier walked back up the road, to the top of a rise of a hill, and walked back. He spoke to one of the other soldiers. They laughed and gestured the men further into the forest, away from the road, with guns. They led them away from the road for a mile or so. They came to a clearing with some sheds and a shack. The soldiers ordered them to lay down. They obeyed, because they had guns.

Soon, Twenty-Four was hogtied, as were the others. The soldiers walked among them, talking in Greek. They laughed. They kept pointing at the hogtied men. Then, two of them walked up to One, each took an arm, and they dragged him off behind the shack.

Bang. Gunshot. The men looked between each other in panic and muttered anxiously. The soldiers raised their guns and barked at them and they were quiet. The two soldiers returned from behind the shack. One of them had blood on his trousers. They quickly selected Two, and took him behind the shack. Bang. Gunshot.

Then Three, and then Four, and so on, and so on.

Twenty-Two was taken. Then Twenty-Three. Bang. Bang. Twenty-Four lay with his face in the leaf litter. He didn't want them to see him crying. 'Please', he muttered, 'please'. Hands seized him by the arms. He was closed his eyes and felt his knees drag through the leaves. He stopped. He opened his eyes and saw a soldier tower over him, rifle in hand. He felt damp spreading through his trousers. He's be brave and look him in the eye.

The shot went in the air. Then a rifle butt slammed into his mouth one, two, three times. His mouth was full of blood and broken teeth.

"..... and the funny thing is, the last one was so scared he pissed himself"
Yorkie looked at the photo, his mouth agape in disgust. Greekie sat straddled atop a pile of hogtied men, alive, stacked like logs, bloody-mouthed. He waved his rifle triumphantly above his head.

"You do realise that that was a war crime, don't you?"
"They're only Albanians"
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 21:37, 8 replies)
L Ron Hubbard for the win
You'd have thought that people might exercise a teensy-weensy bit of common sense and decide not to raise a writer of terrible science fiction who is on record as having stated words to the effect that 'The best way to make $1m is to start a religion' to the status of messiah.

Goes to demonstrate the sheer gullibility of people really.

Made slightly less funny by the fact that Scientology deploys brainwashing techniques to exploit people with considerable weaknesses who need help rather than having their lives subjugated to the ends of an evil cult.
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 21:33, 6 replies)
I was on the Canary Islands a few weeks ago ...
where I bought one more post card than I needed for my friends and relatives. So I opened my phone's address book and carefully selected a person who doesn't know my handwriting and who wouldn't be aware of where I was. I wrote his address on the left over card and added the message: "Hey (name), it's great here, though I miss going out for boozing with you. When I'm back, we should go out for a beer together. Yours, Frederic"
But my name isn't Frederic.
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 20:36, Reply)
He didn't know it was a cover
Conversation with the professor turned towards an unexpected topic: how 'covers' of pop songs are rarely as good as the originals. He asked me to name one cover that was better than the original. I said I thought Billy Idol's "Mony, Mony" was better than Tommy James and the Shondell's original version. He howled in anguish: apparently I had tossed a hand grenade into a particularly-precious but private memory.
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 20:31, Reply)
Advertisers, religion-people, politishuns etc
Give me head peace!
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 20:30, Reply)
In Short...
In short my missus believed for years that a fartectomy was real and even told people at work about it. De-ris in comments
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 20:27, 1 reply)
About five years ago, me and the missus were watching QI
She said, I love Alan Davies but it's too bad he's gay. I looked over, and she asked me, he is gay, isn't he?

I had to confirm that he is, indeed, as gay as a treeful of monkeys.

Last year, we had tickets to watch QI being filmed live. After the show, the guests were milling about, and I mentioned that I'd love to crack onto Sue Perkins, but there's an obvious issue there. The missus responded that she'd love to crack onto Alan Davies but...same problem.

It wasn't until we were safely outside that I told her the truth. Somehow she'd managed to completely miss the odd reference Alan has made about his partner (Katie, IIRC) on QI, and more unbelievably, every time he's been wittering on about being a new parent, which seems to made up the bulk of his contributions towards the past couple of series.

Ah, it's the little things that keep us amused.
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 19:46, 3 replies)
New Years Eve, 2004
Or maybe 2005 I don't remember which. Probably 2003 actually. Anyway I digress. It was New Year's eve and we were still young enough to be under the impression that you don't need too plan anything on New Year's eve and that as the greatest night of the year there'll be loads of parties! We'll just go from one to the next!

Ignoring the fact that at this time in my life I, like the majority of my closest friends, were massive pot heads, my one friend E had managed to score some mushrooms off his sister. We've now all done them since but this was a relatively new thing so only E (I'll be honest) had the bottle to do them. E was always the one to 'consume to the extreme' when it came to drink and such like, and on the way back to his, as 'my folks are out at a party', we were walking through the park with E munching on this bag of mushies like it was a big bag of the tastiest crisps you'd ever seen. There was even a thrust and a *munch, munch* "you sure you don't want any?"

Anyway, fast forward about an hour or so and it's about 8:30 sat at E's house and we notice Alice's favourite fungi are starting to take hold. E goes to the bog and a few seconds later stumbles back in the room.

"E, what the fuck man?" my friend D asks. Now this was a few years ago and I honestly can't remember if we'd discussed this at any point while E was out the room, or if we all just played along, but of course E responds with a puzzled, "Huh?"

"Seriously E mate you've got to sort it out I can't believe what you've done"
"Yeah man," someone else chimes in, "that's bang out of order"
"Huh? What?" E asks, completely baffled.
"What you don't remember? You don't remember being sick upstairs? You threw up everywhere man, you passed out and completely missed new year's, you were out for hours!"
E looks at us completely miffed, "it's only half past eight" he goes.
"What?" Someone says, "mate it's two thirty in the morning, you don't remember your parents coming in and shouting at you? Your dad's gone mental"
"E mate, you'd better go and start cleaning that puke up upstairs"
"What puke?"
"You don't remember puking everywhere? It's all over everything mate go and have a look"...

So we manage to convince poor old E to go upstairs and have a look at this puke we'd convinced him was there. Not 45 seconds later he stumbles back in and we continue nonchalantly on, "Huh? There's no puke up there?"
"Um, what mate?"
"You said there was puke up there? What time is it?"
"It's half eight mate what are you talking about I thought you just went to he lav?"
"Oh. Oh god, no. You've got to go. You all need to go. Right now"

So that's how we ended up spending our New Year's eve midnight walking down the street trying to find a party, with E at home on his own trying to work out what the hell had happened and me saying, "look at all them fireworks. It must be midnight, happy new year lads"
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 19:20, Reply)
Hi im former Defence Secretary Dr John Reid
Just for a laugh i suggested during a cabinet meeting that we should send our troops first to Iraq and then to Afghanistan. Imagine my surprise then, that the wankers who were in the room at the time agreed with all of my suggestions. I decided to keep quiet in case i looked like a bigger cunt than i actually am.
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 19:09, 2 replies)
Relief vs. fury
This post has reminded me of a trick an acquaintance of mine (X) played once. There's a long, straight stretch of road near where I come from that is frequently used as a racetrack by chavs in souped-up novas and the like. One night X showed up at about 11pm in his work van to hear that Y and Z were having a race down the road, and that he should make sure to be well out of the way. He pulled his van into a side road when he was struck by a thought.

Five minutes later, X heard Y and Z about to appear over the crest of the hill at ~130mph. As their headlights appeared, he stepped out into the road, in his bright yellow hi-vis jacket, and held up a hand authoritatively.

He said he's never seen brake discs glow so brightly as on the one car that tried to stop. The other just kept going in a panic.

I don't think Y and Z had another race until they'd had some laundry done...
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 19:06, Reply)
Mindgames with the cleaning staff
A hairbrush in the middle of the floor in my student halls room. A piece of paper underneath it, with "do not pick up this hairbrush" written on it.

If you pick up the hairbrush, the paper underneath it reads "because there is nothing underneath it".
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 18:49, 2 replies)
I make up stories and post them on the internet to upset children and sensitive types.

(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 18:38, 4 replies)
I used to work at a large University
That had a biomedical research facility. This is a fluffy name for "does animal research". I worked in the same building that housed this, but wasn't related in that. I do tech stuff.

The bit of the building that houses the animal stuff is *extremely* secure. It's not on the list of floors when you walk in the door, the lifts need a key to get up there, etc.

After a fire drill one day, we mentioned to some of the students that some of the mini elephants had escaped. When the response was confusion, we said something like "What, you don't know about them? The project has been going for *years*! Yeah, they've been breeding these mini elephants up there. Fit in the palm of your hand, but some of them got into the lift. They were running around reception, so the building had to be evacuated whilst they caught them again."

As with the best rumours like that - mention it to five or ten people and then leave it be.

That was about 10 years ago. I still hear the rumour occasionally being spread round now.
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 18:36, Reply)
Antipodean Christmas Celebrations
Back in the mists of time (Christmas 2002) I had been working at my place of employment in Mississippi for a few months. Someone as exotic as an Australian was a rarity in the deep south, I (and all things Australian) were a mystery to most of the people there. With Christmas fast approaching, I was asked in a meeting "Do you celebrate Christmas in Australia".

Ripper, I thought - here's a chance for some major piss-taking.

"Yes, we do celebrate Christmas there," I replied. "But you have to remember it's in the middle of summer, so some things are a bit different."

"The whole family - us kids, parents, aunts and uncles, cousins, grandparents would get together at one place for a big lunch, presents around the tree, all of the. Then, once that was over with, and everything cleared away, the main festivities would start. My cousins and I would go out into the back paddock, find a suitable Christmas tree, and cut that down. Then we would all drag / carry it back to the house, where we would light a huge bonfire."

"Once that was blazing, we would all tear off our clothes, smear mud over our bodies, and the we would dance around the fire, chanting as we would throw the tree into the flames."

At that point most of them had worked out I was well and truly pulling their legs - but it was amazing how many people didn't realize (or understand how) the seasons in the southern hemisphere were reversed.

Length - no apologies, no one has ever complained before. Haw haw haw
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 17:53, 2 replies)
I make up lies and tell them to my mate. They're not bad lies in the sense that anyone get's hurt, they are just made up facts.

For example, I've told him that Juke boxes where originally called shook boxes and originated from Jamaica. To back this up I needed a bit of back story, so I told him that the way they work is that at the beginning of a party everyone would put their records in a box, the box would then by shaken (shook) lightly and the one that rises to the top would be the next record played, an American saw this and decided to mechanise and charge for the pleasure.

I've also told him that the reason it's considered rude to put your elbows on the table stems from the process of matchmaking in Victorian England. The story was that if a woman were to meet a potential suitor it is considered rude to not show him the goods (tits), so they would need to keep their arms back and chest out.

As far as I know neither of these facts are true but my hope is that one day he has children and passes on this crap knowledge to them.
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 17:21, 2 replies)
Telly Toss
I once suggested to my LSD addled chum that it would probably be really nice to launch his Mum and Dad's Television straight through the large front room bay window and into the street...

He actually had it grasped in his arms and was building up a massive swing before I reminded him that he was insane and he popped it back on it's stand thoroughly perplexed.
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 17:02, 9 replies)
Is it because I is brown??
I used to go out with a lad who had some racist views (God knows why he asked me out as I am a dusky maid of mixed race).

Anyway, he ticked me off one night, so I threatened that I'd get my own back and told him a story of how I'd had one of my previous boyf's strung up between two palm trees which had been bent to cross each other & then let go - thus rending my then boyf in twain. I said it could easily be arranged as my dad was a tribal leader & it wouldn't cost v much. My boyf paled, and apologised profusely & then went v quiet. I didn't bother telling him that I'd actually seen that in an old Tarzan episode on TV. Idiot. We didn't last v long (wonder why...). Still makes me laugh.
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 16:58, 5 replies)
Roger if you are reading this Sorry so very sorry
many years ago at a night club in corby called channel 2 my cousin roger was convinced that he had an admirer, now roger is not what you would call average looking he is in fact a chinless wonder of the first degree but also very clever when it comes to numbers.
Me and a couple of friends kept telling him that there was a stunning brunette who had come over to us and asked us about him and wanted to meet him, but every time Roger moved we would all say that she had just gone and he had missed her.
This lasted all night and he was getting more and more drunk and falling deeper in to the puddle of lies, we arranged for him to meet her the next weekend but unfortunately she couldn't make it at the last moment, and as you can guess this made him want to see her even more.
We even got so far as to write and send him a love letter with so much sincerity that he kept it for a couple of years believing that he would get to meet this fabled brunet.
We never told him and even to this day nearly 25 years on if we mention clubbing he still asks about her
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 16:40, 2 replies)
You know when you're on the motorway behind someone for ages in the middle lane, you're hoping they'll move over but they don't
And then you move into the outside lane to overtake them

And at that very moment they pull into the inside lane?

I am that person in front. I do it on purpose.
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 16:33, 2 replies)
Round my house one time, I was talking to a couple of friends (an actual couple) and we got onto the subject of drama classes. I had done drama GCSE, the girl, P, had done a lot of drama classes somewhere else. The guy, S, had not.

I mentioned off-hand that we had studied the art of talking in grumelot in class, and she delightedly burst out "Gah? Ohsoud lty asellfui aad hablabaga!" I happily replied "Ohdo hoaugyu shu buarrtey yekl!"

At this point S was just looking at the pair of us in astonishment, with a slightly fearful look in his eyes. This turned out to be prescient, as while we were jabbering on, P gestured to the guitar strap I was holding (home-made from two belts) and suggested "Kakurash oblada 'whippy-whippy'? *whipping hand like a lasso*"

So I dutifully chased S with the guitar strap for a little bit.

Later, after his repeated demands to know how we could understand each other, and "What the hell is grumelot?!" we told him that grumalot is basically speaking gibberish in theatre, while doing all the communication with exaggerated gestures.

Lots of fun :)
(, Thu 12 Jan 2012, 16:31, 3 replies)

This question is now closed.

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