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This is a question I didn't do it

Chthonic wants to know about awful, terrible things you have definitely never done. But secretly have. Confess!

(, Thu 15 Sep 2011, 13:16)
Pages: Popular, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

I have never
broken my penis while having sex with my beautiful girlfriend and had to be driven to emergency in agonising pain by said beautiful girlfriend while she tried to hold back tears of laughter. I also didnt lie to my parents about why i couldnt walk, or sit down for weeks after by telling them i had a urinary tract infection.
it still hurts :-(
(, Fri 16 Sep 2011, 2:07, 5 replies)
It wasn't a Sunday night on a long weekend in the Devonshire seaside town of Exmouth.
Wherever my mate and I didn't go, there wasn't a special on Bacardi. We didn't drink a lot of it. Being a Sunday (not that it was), everything shuts fairly early. We didn't roll out of the club, drunk and looking for something to trespass on. So, we didn't:

* Go down to the edge of the river, decide to swim out to a nearby boat then swim back,
* Flash at a passing train,
* Climb into a nearby boat yard.
* While I didn't play on a derelict crane, my mate didn't climb into a boat and find a packet of emergency flares.
* In trying to set one off, my mate didn't nudge me, causing me to drop the flare as it went off.
* We didn't see the summer-dry grass catch fire and we didn't make a run for it.

About half an hour later, I didn't go back to see if the fire was still going. There weren't three fire engines putting it out.

The next day, there wasn't about 80m of black river bank.

It was someone else. Honest.
(, Fri 16 Sep 2011, 1:41, 1 reply)
Dear parents
Of course I wasn't "reversed into in a car park while I was in the cinema". I was trying to do a three point turn and whacked your car into a telegraph pole.
(, Fri 16 Sep 2011, 1:07, Reply)
I never did nothing
I definitely did not ever ever take a pram back to mothercare after my doltish husband popped the fucking wheel off trying to take it up an escalator. And I most certainly did not claim that the wheel, clearly snapped and sheared off by an inhuman force had simply "fallen off" one day. I definitely did not do that to get it repaired for free. Nope
(, Fri 16 Sep 2011, 1:05, Reply)
Fat Birds..
Nope, Never have.. Honest, they were all gorgeous...

Im fucking telling you, they were....
(, Fri 16 Sep 2011, 0:59, Reply)
Me and my dad
We certainly never left the house at 3am once to go and spray some brand new speed cameras with black paint. That would be wrong officer.
(, Fri 16 Sep 2011, 0:49, 3 replies)
I never actually banged this very hot girl people think i am, i am just incredible at twisting the way things look to make it appear that we are.
She stayed over once when she was drunk and just wanted to be spooned all night, ever since then i have been friend-zoned, i just lie saying we shag when she comes over, all that actually happens is i just pretend to listen to her whinging about how fat and ugly she thinks she is and how she can never meet a "nice guy" to be her bf.

In fact the only reason i even keep in touch with her is because she gets me free weed.
(, Fri 16 Sep 2011, 0:23, 5 replies)
Remember that time I went home with your sister after your birthday party, and you phoned and wanted to speak to her, but the line was terrible and I couldn't hear a word you said?

I could hear you.
(, Thu 15 Sep 2011, 23:41, Reply)
Traded a mad hippy woman for some wine (to an alleged poet)
To cut a long story short, it involved massive intoxicants, we'd been clubbing and the day after was a lovely day.
We crashed in the park, 30 + random, colourful hippy types in the grounds of a public garden, church and city centre heritage. But the day was merry, spirits were high and everyone was having a good time, enjoying the sunny morning and blue skies.

So... Anyways, this rather mad lady was accompanying us, she seemed quite child-like but at the same time very educated and aware (but she kept barking at my mate who was ff his beans on LSD), and she didn't seem to care that her present company were mostly binge-fuelled Lancashire lads or the morning remnants of a very psychedelic club experience - so all was great.

Until, and I can only remember the day from surreal fragments from this point onwards. This elderly bloke in a white suit, a walking cane and white hair strolls around the park, pulls a leaf from the pond and then approaches our various groups and spots this hippy lady who is with us and introduces himself to us as a certain Liverpudlian author/poet (I seriously forget who the hell he was called) and starts chatting to us.

He claims to be very rich and tells us that these gardens are his local grounds and that he'd appreciate it if we would keep the place tidy and of course we agreed. He then gave my friend a hand-full of notes and told us that we seemed a decent crowd and that my mate should run to the shop and buy wine/beer etc.

So my mate toddles off, and then this old guy notices our female companion for the first time and immediately invites her to his flat. In some confusing memory I remember her asking him if he was a DIFFERENT author, and he agreed and it all got very confusing.

My next memory is lying in the sun. Totally blissed out - everything was good with the world. I could hear the chinking of arriving booze, and I glanced up and saw my mate arriving back with a large amount of wine. Brilliant.

So we drank merrily, bathed in the sun and everyone was having a marvellous time. And then my phone started ringing.


Unknown number.

Me (fucked on sun/booze/etc) : Hullo?

Mad Lady (whispering): Hey you.

Me: Hullo?

Mad lady: Hey, you gave me your number, i'm in that man's flat. He's not the guy who I think he was. He's a bit mad'

** Now at this point, I think I hit the wall of confusion, as I don't remember giving her my number (although friends later confirmed that I did in case she needed anything) - and also I was quite surprised at how she would evaluate madness, considering she'd spent half the day giggling in a park/grounds with a load of strangers before running off with a guy who was claimed to be a different poet to the one she imagined - who'd apparently offered to cook her a meal and then pretty much bribed everyone with wine and took her to his mad flat. When she got there she realised he was a 'different' poet and then proceeded to ring me every fifteen minutes telling me how scared she was and how she was trying to escape (but then she'd laugh)and this went on for a good day or so.

It was a crazy day indeed.

The lady turned out to be fine, she kept ringing me and eventually stopped, I saw her not long ago at another event, so she's fine and still going for it. Whatever it is.

But that will always be the day surreality got a grip of me, and I technically sold a mad lady for some wine.
(, Thu 15 Sep 2011, 22:32, 5 replies)
I killed a tramp once.
It sounds a lot worse when I say it like that I suppose. I'm not a killer, he died, and I helped him to die.

Winter. Icy paving. The river Ouse. This tramp, this fucking human piece of trash, approaches me and asks for a cigarette. I tell him to fuck off, to get a goddamn job- get off the meths and get a fucking job.

He had a dog with him. A little yappy mongrel on a filthy fucking lead. If you can't look after and feed yourself, then why the fuck would you inflict a vagrant's virus-riddled life on an innocent animal? So I kicked his fucking dog in the fucking face.

He came at me then, growling something incoherently, off his homeless face on some kind of cheap alcohol (the tramp, not the dog, you understand?). I had to take action before his greasy hands could touch me. I warned him not to touch me, the coat's very expensive and dry clean only.

Being stone cold sober and in very sound mind, I sidestepped him and he fell as he lunged. He slid down the steep edges of the walkway and went under.

I watched him go under. In between gasping for breath as I laughed, I shouted to him to enjoy his bath, the fucking filthy tramp.

I kicked his dog again.

A couple of weeks later I was reading the local rag and there was a story about someone being pulled from the river. I saw the picture. I read the pathetic history of drug abuse, homelessness, and street drinking. It was him.

He was better off dead. I did him a favour.

And his fucking dog too.
(, Thu 15 Sep 2011, 22:02, 18 replies)
Well let's see there's... there's Henry. I killed Henry.
He was a neighbor, he was a- he was a classmate of mine. The thing it, it was in the woods and I- I hit him, over and over again with a rock and I killed Henry. It was partly his fault, 'cuz he shouldn't have kept teasing me about the size of my ears. They- they found the body of course, and they gave him a good funeral, he had a nice funeral, pictures in the paper and everything, I mean they kept looking for the person who did it, they never- they never caught that person - that's me. But I want to say I'm sorry, Henry, again I was a kid. I didn't know any better.
(, Thu 15 Sep 2011, 21:38, Reply)
I forced someone to shoot a dog
I am really ashamed at this story. I was young and a complete idiot. Even though it still makes me chuckle every time I see someone wearing a sun visor.

When I was 14 my brother, who is a lot older than me, decided to move in with his girlfriend. We didn’t ever get on. In fact we spent our entire lives thinking of ways to piss each other off. So when he appeared in my bedroom with a cardboard box and said “this is stuff I don’t need any more – you might want it” I was a little more than sceptical.

After his completely non-emotional goodbye I ran to my room and studied the box with caution. Expecting a boxing glove to explode out.... or it simply to explode. I nudged the lid open and peered inside.

Viz. He had left me his Viz collection. Perhaps I had him wrong. Perhaps he wasn’t such a tool

I searched deeper

“Awww – he gave me his entire recorded-from-TV bond collection”

I started to feel that perhaps I am the total tool

Then I found her. Under Viz and under Vhs lay his stunning yet deadly air rifle and more ammo than should be legally allowed. As I lifted it out of the box it revealed a message that only an older brother can leave his sibling

“If you read this then you are a batty boy bum bandit”

I was right. He was a total tool.

As quick as my legs could peddle me I was over to my mate Toms with the gun and pellets. He only needed to see the pellets before he was dragging me to the local common (a rather famous wood in the greater London that is surrounded by some huge houses). There we were in the middle of the common with an air rifle. We were practically high fiving ourselves (clapping) and wooping away. This is every kid’s dream. Armed and dangerous.

So what to shoot....it started with an empty beer can. Then an old lighter we have found before we decided to see if we could hit a 2 pence from about 5m. After going through half a tub of pellets a little game formed. We put 1 penny at the bottom of a tree and went about 10m. The first one to hit the coin got to pick a dare. As will all 14 year old dares. It had to be carried out.

I won

On the next shot. Pure fluke but that didn’t matter. I had won.

But what should I dare him. I won too quickly to think about it. Then
something magical happened. Out of the corner of my eye I could see someone walking up the path to us. I said to Tom “hide” and we ran into the shrubs and tree and watched who would walk along the path. Within a few minutes this little Chinese lady came into site wearing a white shell suit and a massive red plastic visor. Strapped to a lead that was around her wrist was the biggest bloody dog I have ever seen. Honestly it was nearly up to her shoulders while standing on all fours. It could have easily passed as a horse. This thing was surely a freak among dogs.

As the dog and owner walked by enjoying their afternoon stroll I whispered to Tom

“I double dare you to shoot the dog in the arse”

In my mind I had visions of Tom running though the common with this
beast chasing him. I thought it would be like spike chasing Tom. With me as Jerry laughing my arse off.
Tom pulled up the rifle. Look into the site.


The dog just stopped in its tracks for about 3 seconds motionless. Then without warning or sound the dog bolted. He done 0-60 in 3.5 seconds. The hound took off. Unfortunately for the owner the second the 5 metres of slack had run out – as if in slow motion the lady went horizontal about a foot off the ground. If you were close enough you could have done that magicians trick with the hoops to prove there were no wires. Then in a second she disappeared. The dog pulled the lady clean over and then carried on pulling her at some speed down the path. All we could hear were the muffled grunts of the dog and the high yelps of

We looked at each other for a fraction of a second then back at the dust ball they had left. Then ran as fast as we could. We went past the pond and the cottage and down towards the thick wood. When we believed we had reached a safe place we stopped and spent around 30 minutes full on crying of laughter.

After the humour had left our physically shaking bodies the enormous guilt come over me. It wasn’t Toms fault. I had dared him. He had to do it. The only kid we knew who didn’t complete, or at least attempt to complete, was a loser and would never get his hands on Patricia Davis norks.

I looked Tom in the eye and said “Never tell a soul and I promise I will never tell a soul”

So after 20 year - there is my confession.
(, Thu 15 Sep 2011, 21:27, 5 replies)
I have never
ever fallen off my bike on the way to school, hit my face on the nasty asphalt, walked home in pain, crying and told my parents I got hit by a car to avoid embarrassment and the inevitability of them sending me to school anyway.

I certainly have never told lies to a police officer investigating a non-existent hit-and-run incident, making up a non-existent white car whose registration plate I never saw since it hit my back wheel and sped off before I looked up, catching only a glimpse of its colour.

Or indeed milked the (limited) sympathy of my classmates for a little while to avoid having to own up to being a clumsy overconfident idiot who was weaving over the pavement and standing up on the pedals all the time.

And neither have I ever kept that story up for twenty years, never admitting the truth to anyone except b3ta. No sirree.
(, Thu 15 Sep 2011, 21:27, Reply)
Dear Mum
that time when i came home soaked to the skin and told you "some big boys" pushed me into the pond in the park?
they didn't, i was trying to catch a fish and fell in.
(, Thu 15 Sep 2011, 21:26, 2 replies)
I have always denied it
but I suppose it's time to admit that I have, actually, touched an underage boy's erect cock and enjoyed it.

Pretty much every night between my 13th and 16th birthdays.
(, Thu 15 Sep 2011, 21:12, 10 replies)
dear mental retard brother sorry
playing on a working quarry one day with said brother and some friends playing king of the hill, the aim to stop them getting to the top by any means including rolling big lumps of compacted clay/rock boulders down.
i didn't mean for it to bounce of your noggin leaving you looking like a Muslim with a suicide hair cut that had just gone off and with the mental capacity of a welsh labor voter , but seeing as that is what you started of with i will only apologize then to mum for telling lies about you being jumped and beaten up and getting the police involved when all along it was us trespassing in quarry.
great days that summer great days
(, Thu 15 Sep 2011, 20:30, 6 replies)
do you remember the sign we made for that german summer camp in the woods?
you know the one with big wooden buildings and those lovely communal showers?

sorry but there was a delivery mistake that one should have gone to the seaside instead they got yours that read
Sie gehen alle zu verdammtem Würfel ein schrecklicher Tod*

yours herr hangle,mangle and der spangle sign makers to the overlords

*you are all going to fucking die a horrible death
(, Thu 15 Sep 2011, 20:20, 6 replies)
I didn't just realise that I have
booked airline tickets and hotel reservations for the wrong month. Neither did I just scan over the T&Cs to find that it will cost me about £250.00 to rectify this error.
(, Thu 15 Sep 2011, 19:41, 2 replies)
During a concert which was played live on BBC radio
the piece finished with 4 short, dramatic chords.

I played five.

The trick is to deathglare your desk partner before they think to do it to you, then everyone knows it was them who messed up.

....but it wasn't. Oops.
(, Thu 15 Sep 2011, 19:14, 4 replies)
Don't worry,
I got caught multiple times, in all sorts of compromising positions all over the house. I learnt from this that as long as you persistently stick to your story, you'll get away with it.

Hope this helps.

Your friend,

(, Thu 15 Sep 2011, 19:09, Reply)
Me to my little brother
I came home one day to find that one of my strings had broken on my guitar. My brother was always wanting a go so naturally I thought interrogating him would be the best place to start.

Me: Did you break my string
Him: What guitar string

Case solved
(, Thu 15 Sep 2011, 18:16, 2 replies)
2nd? No.
When some idiot ploughed into my car I was given a courtesy car whilst it was being repaired. The car I got was a brand new Mini One. The nice man who got me to sign for it asked me to be gentle with it as they’d just got it. This was the first year the BMW Mini was released and it had 3 miles on the clock.
On its return the next week I told them I’d not gone above 50mph in it. (truth)
However, 20 minutes after I’d taken delivery of it and with a mate in the passenger seat, we were getting very odd looks from pedestrians in the high street as I was refusing to take it out of 1st gear and the engine was literally screaming.
They overheat very quickly over 6000rmp
(, Thu 15 Sep 2011, 17:24, 8 replies)
I wasn't the A-level Chemistry student...
...who got various other kids in class to cough, spit and blow their noses onto petri dishes and then put them anonymously in a warm cupboard to see what bacteria I could grow.
(, Thu 15 Sep 2011, 17:18, 2 replies)
dear shitcunt brother
remember that time you pushed me so hard that i split my head open on the edge of the shelf? remember how your bed was wet 3 days in a row after that, causing you to be called pissy legs by the local kids for months?
it was me who pissed in your bed when you got out of it and went for a shower.
i was 9 and you deserved it, you cunt.
(, Thu 15 Sep 2011, 17:10, 5 replies)
Nope, not me
It definitely wasn't me that nicked all your porno mags and a few weeks later rolled them all up after taking a shit inside, pissed all over them and left them on your doorstep in the morning. Nope, and you'll never fucking read this anyway you twat.
(, Thu 15 Sep 2011, 17:06, 4 replies)
When I moved out
I didn't put the pubes in the kettle.
(, Thu 15 Sep 2011, 16:52, Reply)
to my colleague L...
Remember when everyone was taking the piss out of you because most of the men at work have fucked your niece (who, due to nepotism in the media being what it is, also worked with us) and I tried to back you up by saying 'I havent fucked her L'?
Im sorry, but I HAVE fucked your niece...several times.... including bum...

sorry mate
(, Thu 15 Sep 2011, 16:27, 5 replies)
Isn't this just gonna be peas of lots of last weeks answers?
Just sayin....
(, Thu 15 Sep 2011, 16:21, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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