Random acts of evil?
How about the Welfare Reform Bill?

(including the Design, Execution, and Publicity therof)
(The Incredible Sulk Finally remembered his password on, Fri 17 Feb 2012, 14:55, 5 replies)

the holocaust

(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Fri 17 Feb 2012, 14:44, 3 replies)

I like to help people fit in better
By pointing out their faults.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 17 Feb 2012, 13:42, 8 replies)

Wheezy old cyclist
I was about 12, my brother about 8, or thereabouts.

Mum had entrusted us to walk round the corner to the shops to pick up some few essentials (this was a particularly brave move in my case, because the last time I'd been sent to the shops, I'd come back with cabbage instead of lettuce). Clutching a fiver tight in one grubby palm, and a short shopping list in the other, I made small talk with my younger bro of Tottenham Hotspur and WWF wrestling, for at the time they were my only interests. A quick glance at my bookshelf reveals that perhaps it's time to diversify as I progress through my fourth decade.

Toward us came a cyclist. An ancient, geriatric old man, on an ancient, geriatric old bike. He was dappered up nicely with a flat cap on his head, tweed suit, brogues, and ancient brown tie. As he approached us, we could hear a terrifying wheezing and creaking as he struggled to draw breath. As he drew alongside, his face contorted and he clutched worryingly at his chest, as his foot came down to hit the kerb. He let go of the bike and took refuge in leaning on a convenient lamppost. Imagine a cross between George Formby and Albert Steptoe, and you'd be close.

Anxiously, we two little boys watched him gasping for air, flapping at himself with his tatty flat cap. Despite the occasional bicker, we were good kids: well brought-up with teachings of respect for our elders, and both Boy Scouts with the message of helping other people firmly ingrained in our subconscious. I cleared my throat, and sidled over to the ancient wreckage. "Er...excuse me, sir? Are you OK?"

The old man drew a ghastly, rattling breath, eyed up the two wide-eyed and keen youngsters, and nodded feebly. As he took in the generosity of spirit in our eager requests for help, he stared at us in disbelief with a tear in his eye, and said...

"Little wankers."

And then he swung a leg back over his bike and creaked on his way.
( ousgg is not seeking approval, Fri 17 Feb 2012, 13:19, 2 replies)

Fun with a gideon's bible
Every time I book into a hotel the first thing I do is check for a Gideon's Bible. I then open it at random and write "CUNT" in large letters on whatever page I arrive at.
My sincere hope is that a Christian, in times of trouble, will turn to one of these bibles and see this "message from god" and realise that god hates them too.

I also sign guestbooks as "Kelly Smunt" or "Mary Hinge". Hopefully the smiles brought about by the latter will cancel out the former.
( MontyyouterribleCUNT I gave Jeremy Kyle cancer, Fri 17 Feb 2012, 13:15, 17 replies)

The other day i asked a football based question on B3ta
Evil cunt that I am.
( Ya What Skiddlyboop, Fri 17 Feb 2012, 13:15, 1 reply)

Does foiling the HTML evilness on page 2 count?
click here :-)

Edit: oh, the html pwnage wasn't by who I claimed it was by, so name removed..
( bluemeat has been best of all the animals since, Fri 17 Feb 2012, 13:12, 1 reply)

One night, as I do EVERY NIGHT...
...I got OFF MY HEAD on MASSIVE OSTRICHES(they're like Doves, only for REAL men). I dind't do anything that due to me spending all night beating up ninja robot squaddies and then inserting my bacon hypodermic into them to giving infusions of organic mayonnaise to their DRIPPING supermodel girlfriends.

However.

Next morning.

I felt horrid.

So I jumped in the Accord and drove down the shop, donutting the car all the way and flicking V's at traffic coppers. They let me do this as chainsawed a pimp to death for them.

At the supermarket, in the booze-and-pot-noodle aisle(they have one at my supermarket because I'm THAT important in my town) some woman was there with a child, despite the fact that under-18's are banned by law from shops selling booze. So what was to happen next was ALL HER OWN FAULT.

They were singing 'Old MacDonald'.

I gave them a menacing glower. That normally makes SAS men shit themselves, but they clearly didn't see it.

So, I waited until her back was turned and BROKE THE CHILDS ARM OVER MY KNEE. He totally deserved it. He was singing 'with a moo-moo here' too loud and a bit flat.

But the SELFISH QUEEN OF THE HARPIES had noticed and said that I wasn't allowed to do that. Needless to say, I had the last laugh though.

I injected her with a syringe full of MASSIVE DRUGS an waited for her to pass out.
THEN I KICKED HER IN THE RIBS and left.

On my way out, I took a parking sticker from a soft-top so I didn't get a ticket. I'm such a bad person for doing that.

Cheers.
( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Fri 17 Feb 2012, 12:50, 20 replies)

In the lift of a very posh hotel, recently...
...I met a 'refreshed' and unsteady middle-aged lady who claimed to be an entertainer of some description. She announced that she was scheduled to perform at some function or other in a few hours, and asked if I knew of any good hangover cures or ways to sober up quickly.

"Hot bath always works for me", I replied.
(Monkey Tennis isn't Spartacus, Fri 17 Feb 2012, 12:38, 3 replies)

My sister is 2 years younger than me
So aged about 5 I was her hero. She willingly participated in my experiments that included:

1. What happens to fingers that are in the door jam when the door is slammed shut?

2. Is it possible to sew a finger using a sewing machine? (Answer is yes...)

I feel I helped her learn a valuable lesson. Do not trust anyone, ever.
(LetsGetDownToIt, Fri 17 Feb 2012, 12:20, 1 reply)

supermarket takedown / parenting by proxy
picture the scene. you're in a morrisons. you're hung to the over. you're halfheartedly scouring the shelves for some ingredient for the night's meal. in the aisle is a woman on her mobile, talking very loudly about absolutely nothing at all, clearly something she's a great authority on, in a snooty middle england nasal voice. to pad the scene, let's imagine she's got a bottle of overpriced balsamic vinegar in one hand.
her delightful offspring is running amok, yelling like a banshee, pushing past shoppers, swinging some kind of toy lightsaber round, knocking stuff off shelves. round and round the aisle he goes. knocks past me once, twice, pushing past imperiously as if i am at fault for DARING to impede his speedy process past the canned legumes section with my bulky presence.
as he clears the end of the aisle, the doppler effect reliably informs me he is once again approaching.
as the patter of feet gets louder, and the yelling increases, it suddenly occurs to me that the very thing i seek could be on the opposite shelf, so, without further ado me, and my heavy, child face height wire basket of tins and root veg turn to face the other shelf.

*spang*
*intake of breath*
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA*gulp*AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!! MUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!! *gulp* aaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA


oops.
(UppityDamnPrimate LET'S OPEN THIS F*CKING PIT UP, Fri 17 Feb 2012, 11:09, 34 replies)

When I was about 8, sitting round the table one morning eating breakfast with my younger sister, I randomly kicked her (with my heel) square in the fanny.

No idea why - and if I don't become an uncle, I can't help but feel it will be my fault
(Singo69, Fri 17 Feb 2012, 11:03, 2 replies)

I like to physically stop any cyclist I see riding on the pavement.
According to them, this makes me worse than over three Hitlers, and several Sept 11ths.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 17 Feb 2012, 10:52, 28 replies)

i have a confession to make
anyone ever use one of those 24hr self admission gyms with the little enclosed pod/airlock type deal you enter through?
well, the next person to pass through after me yesterday would have felt the eye-watering wrath of the previous night's beef stew and dumplings.
(UppityDamnPrimate LET'S OPEN THIS F*CKING PIT UP, Fri 17 Feb 2012, 10:45, 1 reply)

When I was trying to get into the knickers of this girl I used to work with.
We'd often meet after work in a local bar. When she went to the loo one time, completely against all logic, I decided to put all her cigarettes back in the packet upside down. Way to go me, that'll teach her a lesson about the evils of smoking.

I hadn't anticipated the fact that suddenly having the filter end of the cigarette you're trying to light burst into flames as you're driving home in the dark is quite a startling event causing said cigarette to be thrown, still on fire into the drivers footwell.

Still, she saw the funny side and she's been my wife for the past 9 years.

We still lol about that. Well I do anyway.
( Airman Gabber Living life like a 70's BBC presenter, Fri 17 Feb 2012, 10:33, 1 reply)

Kneecap hilarity
Back in the day my small posse of 16 & 17 year-old mates would often be found huddled around a small fire in a local country park, swigging Super T and talking about our imaginary sexual conquests. We were a tight-knit group, harmless and happy (think a South London version of Stand By Me).

Getting pissed in the park was generally the cheapest entertainment our leafy suburb could offer but was particularly frowned upon by the park rangers who patrolled the grounds in their battered Land Rover.

One barmy evening when the empty Super T cans were starting to pile up, and the banter reaching lofty levels of depravity, we spied a set of headlights charging our way through the gloom.

More than a little worse for wear, we hastily stamped out the fire and ran full speed towards the park exit where we hoped to make our escape into the nearby housing estate.

The problem when you're 17, drunk and being pursued is that it seems like the most hilarious situation imaginable, so our retreat was somewhat handicapped by us laughing like twats and stumbling our way through the dark.

The comedic value was elevated to epic proportions when one of our mates (let's called him Simon, for that was his name), ran full-speed into the knee-high barrier at the park entrance. He went down hard, we laughed harder.

After a few seconds it transpired that Simon was actually in some distress having practically kneecapped himself. With the rangers in hot pursuit, we did what any loyal friends would do....we left him there!

I can only assume it was the alcohol's influence because to this day I can't understand why we acted so callously to one of our own. I think this qualifies.
(BinDipper, Fri 17 Feb 2012, 10:31, 1 reply)

My old friend James
When we were teenagers, dangled his little brother out of a first floor window till he sobbed. His crime was that he'd been on a team with me and we'd just beaten them with grenade launchers on stack in Goldeneye.

On another occasion, he decided it would be funny to phone a lad from school and shout 'your mum left your dad because she hates you' down the phone.

He also once borrowed some of my CDs and scratched them with a knife in revenge for me saying his taste in music was a bit shit.

I'm not friends with him any more, funnily enough, although a mutual friend told me that he'd gone for a drink with him at Uni, and James had entertained himself by pissing down onto some pedestrians off a bridge on the way home.

Last time I was him was at a mutual friend from school's funeral. At the wake afterwards, he told he was surprised that I'd cried when doing a reading as 'I didn't know you liked him that much.'

Nice lad.
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Fri 17 Feb 2012, 10:30, 3 replies)

There's nothing quite like the joy of giving tourists wrong directions.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 17 Feb 2012, 10:30, 2 replies)

It was a Sunday afternoon... that will live in infamy
I was washing up. I know, big intro. For some reason which escapes me now, I was listening to Radio 1 - maybe they'd promised a live teabagging of a heavily sedated Vernon Kay, or something. This is back when CBBC's Dick and Dom had somehow bagged a lunchtime slot with their "unique" brand of "hilarity". Focusing on a particularly stubborn non-stick pan (was it fuck), it took me a minute to realise that the voice of the caller on the radio belonged to my best mate's girlfriend.

This was not my random act of evil, but hers. And I doubt I will ever top it.

I listened to her banter with the hosts about having recently met Jason Donovan and the colour of her hair that week, amazed at her hitherto untapped ability to go three words without saying "fuck". Then came the inevitable shout out section to conclude the call. Was there anyone she'd like to say hi to?

"Yes, my boyfriend Jamie, he's here in the car with me, say hello!"

Dick and Dom courteously reply "Hi Jamie!", unaware of the downturn his day was about to take.

"Oh thanks, that's made his day, because JAMIE LOVES DICK!! JAMIE REALLY REALLY LOVES DICK!!!"

To this day I am impressed that there was no dead air following this. Audibly stunned, Dick himself replied with "Er, haha, thanks, but are you sure he's not more of a Dom fan?"

I swear I could hear him crossing his fingers. It didn't work.

"No I'm more of a Dom fan but JAMIE LOVES DICK!!!"

The call was terminated shortly thereafter. Its legacy lives on, however. Jamie's better (ha!) half downloaded the podcast, cut the WAV file and saved it to her phone. For six months thereafter, any text she received caused her phone to announce her boyfriend's love of cock.

Girls = evil.
(Darth Foxtrot A one-man army dedicated to making fetch happen, Fri 17 Feb 2012, 9:56, 12 replies)

Holding a glass to the wall
with my ear pressed firmly against it, I waited until I could hear the faint yet unmistakable sound of my son having a wank.

I then walked straight through his bedroom door without knocking and presented him with a cup of tea.
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Fri 17 Feb 2012, 9:55, 6 replies)

Actual spang.
Back in my college years one of my fellow student friends was zig-zagging between a row of flagpoles, slalom style, as I rode my bike alongside him.

As I watched him zig-zagging between the poles a simple, yet evil, thought came to me. As he zigged towards me to avoid the next pole in line I have him a slight push back towards the way he came from resulting in him piling full tilt into the next flagpole.

He wasn't too hurt once he'd regained consciousness and I did feel quite mean afterwards if that's any consolation.
( Airman Gabber Living life like a 70's BBC presenter, Fri 17 Feb 2012, 9:47, 1 reply)

I was up in dat London for the day, and returning home in the rush hour I got a chance to exercise my evil bone.

In my alcove of seats there was me and a husband and wife returning from holiday, all fresh suntans and suitcases.

At one of the smaller stations, Hadley Wood I think, a blind guy got on. The Husband decided to take charge in finding a seat for the guy and was grabbing at his shoulders. Upset and being manhandled the sightless fella pulled away, lost his balance and ended up sitting on the wife’s lap.

After a short kerfuffle order was resumed and our dark glasses wearing friend left the train at the next stop. Which is when I found myself saying…

“Of course you do realise he’s not blind don’t you”

“What?”

“He’s famous for it, he travels up and down the line sitting on woman for kicks”

"W H A T !"

The wife didn’t seem that bothered but the husband was furious and jumped off the train at the next stop saying he was going to "DO THE PERV". Fearing he was talking about an act of violence and not the latest dance craze I considered ‘fessing up. But looking at the red faced vein popping rage he was in I thought there was a fair chance it would be me he’d being ‘doing’ instead of some random blind bloke, so I left him to it. I consoled my self with the though he’d be unlikely to find him, but who knows.
( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Fri 17 Feb 2012, 9:45, 3 replies)

Happy Valentine's Day
Three years ago my perma-single friend Tom was temporarily living in a flatshare with 3 Chinese students in Shepherd's Bush, none of whom spoke a word of English.

That year was a double-whammy as V Day fell on a Saturday. As everyone else in our group was busy doing couples stuff Tom resigned himself to a Saturday night at home on his own, watching Danger Mouse on his laptop.

Feeling a bit down, he popped out at about half 8 to get a Tesco ready-meal for one. On his way back from the shops Tom had his headphones on, presumably listening to Interpol or some other depressing indie nonsense. Then, as if from nowhere, this kid ran up and punched him right in the face.

It was a total sucker punch and Tom hit the deck. Through the pain he was able to make out a couple of figures standing over him - one of whom was quite clearly filming the whole thing on his phone. Tom had indeed been the recipient of a classic happy slap.

But then came the immortal line, "Oi Dan, that's not the right bloke!" At this, the hoodies all made a swift exit. Tom picked himself up, regathered his spaghetti carbonara, checked his teeth, and made his own painful way home.
(Milo Minderbinder, Fri 17 Feb 2012, 8:59, 1 reply)

Shit fingers
A while ago, my housemate put me on to a rather amusing jape, best done in a manky pub's toilets after having a big shit...

Step 1 - pull out and tear off as much bog paper as you think you need to draw an ace. Clearly there is a direct correlation between the necessary amount, and just how messy your arse is, i.e. just how hot last night's ringstinger curry was and how many pints accompanied said curry.

Step 2 - pull out just a little more bogroll from the drum, do not detach from the roll, and use it to make the first wipe, smearing as much of your mess as possible onto the pristine sheets. Get it as close to the free end as possible.

Step 3 - leave the soiled end dangling to dry a little, while you finish cleaning up with the paper procured in step 1.

Step 4 - carefully respool the soiled paper into the drum.

Et voila, an exquisitely set booby trap, left for the next punter to discover...
(airbiscuit last dropped a meaty one in the lift on, Fri 17 Feb 2012, 8:49, 3 replies)

A treatise on Karma.
Now I like Jason Lee (don't really know who Carson Daley is) as much as the next bloke but "Do good things and good things will happen to you" or vice versa has a lot to answer for.

"Do as you would be done by" is a pretty old concept and is pretty self explanatory.
Karma is a little bit older and a little bit more complex.
In a nutshell (any Buddhists feel free to correct me) - if you live a good life according to the scriptures (you're generally not a cunt, and try to better yourself if you are) and/or achieve(?) enlightenment then when you die you will move up the chain of command and repeat ad infinitum until you reach nirvana (heaven?) and the reverse is true whereby if you are just a cunt then you'll keep coming back as a cockroach (or at least the type of person who writes "So your story is...") until you get stepped on.

This concept of "instant karma" is just a dodgy ver. of "Do as you would be done by" with a little bit of an incentive that people *might* be nice back (this in the real world I have found to be mostly untrue - there is a reason that many filthy rich people are wankers).

Thus if you want Karma, live life according to how Buddha suggested it. If you want to do as you would be done by then by all means do so but expect that the cunts will still be cunts towards you.
If you expect a payoff for doing good deeds then you are in the wrong game I'm afraid.
JSYK.
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Fri 17 Feb 2012, 8:11, 6 replies)

The greatest story ever told.
Hold onto your seats guys, this is a long one with a brilliant pay off. Way back in the su

( mike woz ere 7442200 & 7696970 getter, Fri 17 Feb 2012, 2:27, 5 replies)

"Oh yes, it'll only take you 20 minutes if you cycle back that way"
Four hours later, K's insulting phone call was met only with laughter.
( MatJ LOOK, Fri 17 Feb 2012, 1:29, 1 reply)