Satan's broth
I had just entered the dizzying heights of the Big Boys' school at the grand age of 13 and was just about getting accustomed to its grandeur and size, and one of the things I and my friends did was go to the canteen. Obviously. We bought many a reconstituted tasty treat from this fine establishment, including the finest scrotum burgers East of the Mississippi. Though this was in Somerset. But I digress - the canteen also sold a lovely array of sweets, including Polos. Now one day, bored and frisky, we decided a 'How many Polos can you fit in your mouth' competition was in order. There were 6 of us, so this was going to require a few Polos.

We each went into the canteen in turn, so as not to arouse suspicion, and bought 3 packets of Polos each. 18 packs in all. So began the tournament. We stood outside shoveling Polos into our faces like chronic halitosis sufferers, as one by one people dropped out. I am genuinely proud to say that I won the competition, and IIRR I was edging on the magic 50 mark.

However, a new problem arose. The grounds weren't especially quiet, and not free of teachers who would undoubtedly frown upon 6 lads spitting incomprehensible numbers of Polos onto the floor, so we had to improvise. Someone produced a 1.5L Coke bottle, with perhaps 1/10th of it left inside. Discretely, we took the bottle in turn and began feeding Polos from our mouths straight into the Coke bottle. Probably around 250 Polos in all went into the bottle, and, as happens when you cram disgusting amounts of 'The mint with the hole' into your mouth, a lot of spit.

And at last we roll around to the dare. Some bright spark came up with the idea that a dare to drink this vile concoction was on the cards. It was decided that £2 apiece would be plenty, so £10 to drink about 150mls of Coke, and probably about the same in minty spit.

Well, I did it. In some inexplicable act of bravery/stupidity/insanity, I grabbed the bottle, brazenly telling the others that for £10 this was nothing, that I would give my own grandfather an erotic massage for £10, I necked the lot.

Another problem with this dare was that bare in mind there were a lot of Polos in this bottle. And, not wishing to disappoint my swooning audience, I brought it all the way back and just let this vile stuff go down my throat. And then I half-swallowed a Polo. It lodged at the back of my throat in the way that a Polo can do so well, thanks to its sharp edges and structural Polo-shaped integrity. This shocked me a bit and I started, dropped the bottle on the floor and coughed an entire mouthful of minty, spitty Coke onto the persons nearest me, the floor, my jumper, tie, shirt, trousers, shoes and (how, I don't know) my socks.

I got punched, laughed at, and saw no £10 coming out. And I spent the rest of the day with every person I passed by asking why I reeked of mint, and why I was so sticky. I don't think I ever found a reasonable explanation, but it was most definitely a stupid dare.

Oh, and the Polo that got stuck in my throat? It came up, and very tasty it was too.

Length? A circle has no beginning. Ahhh....
( Rookie You'll have to speak up, I'm wearing a towel, Tue 6 Nov 2007, 3:14, Reply)

Cupid Stunt
As kids we used to doss around the canel and the factories nearby. One sunday, whilst arsing about dropping about 20 feet into a sand hopper, which was stupid enough in itself, my mate dares me to press this green electric button on a switchbox, so sure enough I do. Whatever the switch worked, started buzzing but nothing seemed to be moving. However, the buzzing got louder and louder and crapping ourselves, we legged it big time. We managed to get about 200 yards away when the entire building exploded; big orange flames and black smoke just like the movies. We ran another 2 miles laughing our cocks off to get away from this minor armageddon. However, ever since, I've been very reluctant to press green buttons......
(Mrs B Coathanger Has anyone seen my last marble?, Tue 6 Nov 2007, 2:54, 17 replies)

i was dared to make a small fire....
on top of the rather large haystacks. Me being 10 at the time, the other lads being a bit older, I decided it was a good idea to follow up on the dare.

Result?
Fire engines from 3 counties
Front page of the local rag
Plod interview
Police Caution

Never liked police. Cunts.
(shamen Geekius Maximus, Tue 6 Nov 2007, 1:15, 1 reply)

Dares
some 7 years ago when i was 16/17 yo. I was invited to a party(i live in norway) So this was the standard mates home alone, parents house, moonshine party. I had no cash, but wanted to get drunk so a friend brought out an ice tea botle, put a 5-nok coin in it, and told me if I drank half of it I would get the coin and something to drink. Others quickly followed and soon enough there was some 78 nok in there, when the bottle was half empty (tasting really wierd and prolly containing loads of bacteria) someone filled it up with moonshine. I got drunk and sick for free that night.
(Spng, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 23:41, 1 reply)

realising that familiarity breeds contempt
I dared myself to post three consecutive appleoverages

Damn you Papa Bouba, damn you to hell
(Heyzeus, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 22:04, Reply)

Fox in the box
My mate found a fox , unconscious (or whatever not sure) in his garden. he dared me to release it in the street. pretty tame , dontcha think.

He lives on finlay street, half an oj car chase from fulham football club

how it got into the stadium and run the full length of the pitch i'll never know.........
(papa bouba slap your face, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 21:15, Reply)

My mate Dan
formerly of Rossell school in Machester, 1990's, Ex-RAF and now in the British space programme pioneering our intergalactic defenses, had a long running feud with a big dome headed twat on a flying spacker chair.

Yeah Dan.

asked me to post this to see if i make it into the qotw best. Click i like this if dan's a mekon.
(Heyzeus, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 21:15, Reply)

The ex
dared any woman in their right mind to go out with me.

Many seasons have passed and womankind is still holding out

Length? 8 years
(Heyzeus, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 21:03, Reply)

Audere est facere...
Many moons ago (late-sixties) our local Victorian-era cop-shop (long since replaced on the site by a Tesco supermarket) backed onto the town park, bordered by a spinney and a grubby brook where the town's pre- and peripubertal 'yoof' was want to pass the daylight hours in the pre-Gameboy era. Each October this glorious pre-Health & Safety playground would see a series of children maimed and disfigured by fireworks.

One autumn day I, aged about 8, was dared by an older and wiser yobbo to run to the back of the police station about 25 yards away, light and lob a banger into the huge steel waste bin at about six foot high under an overhanging porch at the back of the building... sure to make a top class bang and get the coppers out and running after us. Everything went to plan.... over the fence, across the scruffy back yard, lit the banger - but I was too eager to unload the ordnance and chucked it in before it had begun to 'fizz'... and legged it. There was no big bang... just a muffled 'thud' as if the banger had misfired and I reached the safety of the spinney as the jeers rose from my tawdry pals. The banger had not misfired. It had nestled down in the soft bed of waste paper that filled the bin which now began to burn... under the overhanging wooden roof now being licked by flames as burning tar from the roof felt dripped down and fed the growing inferno. We legged it to our respective homes. I can still hear the siren of the fire engine in my 'mind's ear' as I remember I sat watching 'Crackerjack', my cheeks burning as my mother said: 'You're home early tonight Roger....'

Length? About three inches and red in colour. Called a 'Little Devil' IIRR. They cost sixpence each which was a lot of money in those days.
(Roger Darce sold his birthright for a mess of pottage, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 20:15, Reply)

Was it a dare, or was he just stupid?
A tale related to me by a friend... at secondary school, A (initialled, though I don't really care about protecting him) took the entire contents of a packet of pro-plus, although I can't recall if he was dared or if he just did it because he's stupid.

Much caffienation later, he's shaking like a leaf and pretty much on the verge of convulsions.

He was taken to hospital and generally sedated and cleansed until he wasn't in danger of a heart attack. Some time later, he rode up the road on a bike, naked.

Length? Let's just say the ladies weren't impressed.
(Stu Moo winner of five nobble piece prizes, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 19:37, 2 replies)

Not me, but rather overheard...
In Ann Summers in Edinburgh.

I was in there purchasing some new toys when some ladies were playing with the posing pouches not too far from me. They were the kind that made noises too.

I say ladies, the youngest was in her early fifties....

And then one of them nudged the other and said "I dare you to set them all off"

Needless to say the dare was completed and by chance we all wandered out teh door at the same time giggling and i look over at them and suddenly my grin widens....


I was now face to face with my very prim and proper Aunt Fiona.

She gave me a tenner with orders not to inform any of my Uncles

First post in this section of the board. No apologies for length (although i'd rather not know what my Aunt bought)
(sexual_panda, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 19:13, 1 reply)

Bite Me
Dave, Chris and Gideon all have McDonald's burgers, the lunch of choice for broke students with strong stomachs.

'Bet you can't eat yours in three bites,' Chris says to Gideon.

Three massive mouthfuls later, the greasy thing is no more. 'Bet you can't eat yours in two,' Gideon returns.

It takes a bit of effort but Chris manages it, downing the nasty bit of beef on a bun in two cheek-bulging bites.

Their contest over, both of them turn to Dave, who is doing his best to remain overlooked.

It took much strained chewing and lots of liquid to help, but he did manage to get the whole thing down in one go. I never knew anyone's face could turn that particular shade of blotchy scarlet for so many minutes with no lasting ill effects.

The winner's prize? Not dying from choking on fast food, apparently.
(louveciennes , Volvospotter, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 18:49, 1 reply)

schmoking
Back as a permenantly stoned student (when dope used to make one lazy, hungry and giggle as opposed to hearing the voices) me and my pie eyed compatriots ran out of Rizla - a garage trip was therefore in order - a shock to us as we hadn't ventured outside for a looooong time. Rich James (for James was his name and he was rich(er than us)) decides that we should never run out of papers again and he should buy one of the idustrial sized multipacks and fronted a score (£20) if one of us dared to ask for it all in rizlas. I end up making the arduous (3 min) journey as I figured I could negotiate and keep the change and after a bit of mental arithmatic worked out that I should buy 200 packs.

The rest of the journey was mental preparation - this was the first time I was going to have to interact with people from the real world in days - anyway, got to the garage - there was a queue.

Bugger!

Got to the front and regurgitated my carefully prepared lines;
"various munchies...cheese and onion pastie, packet of golden vadge, 20 Embassy Number 1, 20 Silk Cut and choo hundred packetsh of shilver rishla please" -(I had started salivating uncontrolably).
"What" said the assistant
"choo hunshed packetsh of shilver rishla plesh" I gushed, and having noticed the policeman joining the end of the queue can't help myself but start laughing. After an uncontrolable giggling fit and complete lack of communication for an eternity and despite my fear of getting arrested I managed to suppress the urge to run off into the night and completed my purchase to the glare of a long queue incuding an annoyed copper.

Yay.

(I did run as soon as I got round the corner.)
(jmaxi returned again on, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 17:34, 7 replies)

Amateur dentistry
I've know of a degenerate alcoholic bloke who oft patronises a public house in Edgbaston.

In the past, when he'd run out of funds to purchase beer and/or cocaine, he would extract a tooth to the delight of a baying crowd who'd pay him for this bloody freak show. I believe the going rate was £20 a tooth.

He's a delightful fellow.
( abefroman skating on the thin life of modern life on, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 17:03, Reply)

ugly woman and a firework
I was on the bus home from school with my mates. There was a big group of us - around 12 of us, with my brother and my mates brothers included. we were all between 6-8 yrs old. Opposite the bus stop was a house that - for some reason - and to this day still non the wiser - we would target hate towards... nothing too horrible, but the likes of knocking on the door and running, throwing wet toilet paper at it etc. (On reflection the wet toilet paper was a bad choice as the house had a funny sort of pebble dash finish - meaning the paper wouldn’t wash off in the rain - in fact 15 years on its all still there...) The woman on many occasion would run out and shout and chase us away, in fact I think the adrenalin rush of this might have been the reason we acted in such a horrible manner.

ANYWAY... this one time we all got off the bus and as usual began our defecation off what was quite a respectable property. My brother dared me to let off a banger on her doorstep (these were little bangers that they sell to kiddies in France…still make some noise though). Which I did – but I had one match to do it with. So I accepted… with no prize but kudos points at stake…. I walked up – I could here my mates shouting ‘go on’ and ‘hurry up she’ll be out in a minute’. (on reflection this kind of reminds me of ‘the butterfly effect’…but don’t worry no one gets blown up…)

I walked up and began the lighting process….. but oh no the banger wouldn’t light I was panicking …shit shit shit… (or whatever swear word I knew at the time…). Then I noticed all my friends change in their manner… they quickly grabbed their stuff and ran…. Did they know something I didn’t? I felt an independence day type shadow slowly cast itself over me, I turned around…there before me was the woman … scarier than usual…she was mad….REAL MAD….and about 3 inches away from me.... my legs couldnt get me away this time

She grabbed me by the throat and threw me to the floor… I was scared… I started to cry…. Then I noticed behind her…something I don’t think anyone knew…. She had a child but… but… this was different…something that made me feel truly ashamed…. Her son had down-syndrome…- he seemed confused and upset at the state of his mum…. Which we had caused….. We had been making her life hell everyday at 3:50pm… her life…already stressed with the day care of her son was made 100 times worse by me and my mates….

She let me go and I ran off sniveling…dragging my bag behind me…

We got a different bus home after that…

I have never felt so ashamed of schoolboy antics…

Length? She had arms like a fiddler crab….... a vice like grip... 8^S
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 17:00, 11 replies)

Who Drz me..
2 tlk in txtspk 4 t rst of 2day?
(innit?)
(Vic Flange, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 16:33, 3 replies)

King of the world!
One dull, wintery Thursday night, I visited a good friend of mine in Camden for, earlier that day, she had informed me that she had a litre of Smirnoff and a couple of grammes of Colombia's finest.

We dispatched said products in swift fashion and headed out into he night, to see what trouble we could muster.

In the first drinking establishment we graced with our presence, my mate proceded to tell me (and anyone within earshot) how her girlfriend had made her watch Titanic the night before and how she nearly vomitted at the "King of the world!" bit. And so the catchphrase for the night was spawned.

Later that night, once we had informed half of Soho that I was, in fact, the king of the world (why are these things so funny when you are twatted?), we found ourselves in a trendy wine bar affair that was full of respectable theatre-going types.

And so the dare came about:
She dared me to stand on a table, drop my trousers and shout "I'm the king of the world!"

And in my wasted state, I did it.

I tried to make a run for it as the staff came out from behind the bar, only to be tripped by my trousers, which were still around my ankles, performing what can only be described as a "graceful plumet" to the floor of the bar.

After a brief scuffle, I was forceably ejected and avowed never to return. Upon relocating my partner in crime, I discovered she had stolen two bottles of fairly expensive champagne (she was as Scouse as I am, you see), which were consumed as we giggled our way around the local sex-shops.

Length? After class-A's on a cold night? It was an innie, not an outie!
(ScousersPet, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 15:54, 1 reply)

Fire!
Just saw Greencoulds post on page 2, and it reminded me ...

Germany, 1988 (or thereabouts) and I was attached to a bunch of Royal Engineers on exercise. Refusing to take the defense of europe seriously, we had a bit of party going - beers, bonfire etc and it came to pass that some sapper dared a drunk sergeant to jump the fire, so he did, badly.

Tripping over a log, he landed face first in a shower of sparks, right in the centre. He got pulled out, combat dress on fire (nasty mark 2 stuff that went up in flames straight away, not the bullet proof mark 1's I had), skin peeling off his face and hands.

I was sat there pissing myself laughing, until I was reminded that I was actually the medic, specially attached to them for just this kind of eventuality, and would I mind doing something.
(nobbyd is wanking furiously to industrial grade porn on, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 15:29, 3 replies)

I'm seriously considering this one.
In the factory I work in, we have machines that give off toxic and hazardous fumes. These are collected in an exhaust system and routed through what is essentially an incinerator to burn the toxic stuff and render it harmless before running the resultant gasses through a scrubber to take the chemicals out before venting it to atmosphere. This is called abatement, and the incinerator thing is known as an abator.

Before they're vented to atmosphere, they go through the process one last time- a very large unit that handles all of the scrubbed exhaust.

I think I need to make a sign to stick on that piece of equipment, labeling it as the "Master Abator"...
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Mon 5 Nov 2007, 15:26, 6 replies)

'Tis Was The 80's
I lived in a flat in Hulme in Manchester where the flat motto was "Too Much Is Just Enough".

Dope(weed), beer(me and Denty mainly), speed( tried it three times - didn't like it) and acid. LSD. Dear God, we were off our tits on a regular basis once we found acid.

(ASIDE: Over a 2 year period I reckon that we dropped about three times a week. Even now, I'm still tempted to put an ad in the Evening News asking anyone who knew me during that period to get in touch and tell me what I'd done....)

But, I digress..

So this one time ( In band camp ) we dropped three tabs of acid each. Me, Joe The Maltese and Pisshead Paul.

To cut a long story short, we ended up walking down Oxford Street, tripping off our tits when we spied two coppers, on the same side of the street to us, walking directly towards us.


I was in the middle of our trio.

I didn't want to get nicked so I looked left to Pissshead Paul and said:

"We gotta act straight"

Pushing home the the point by bringing my clenched fists, with my elbows tight to my body, and hammering down with every word.

Then, I turned to my left and told Joe The Maltese, that we:

"Gotta act straight..."

So, the three of us ended up walking towards the coppers, chanting in unison, arms pumping up and down:

WE GOTTA ACT STRAIGHT
WE GOTTA ACT STRAIGHT
WE GOTTA ACT STRAIGHT

God knows why they didn't nick us...



Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 15:24, 5 replies)

Cruelty to teachers
Our teaching block at school had just been renovated over the summer holidays - something to do with asbestos in the original construction, and all was shiny, new and repainted - including the blackboards.

Just before holidays ended, me and a few friends had dared each other to go go for the most mindless act of vandalism in the new building we could think of.

I was in school early (shat the bed or something) so was the first one in in our form room, also the class for my first lesson (Maths, with Mr Woollett).

Taking a compass, scratched "wanker" on the blackboard, then "still a wanker on the second", and finally "This one's fucked as well" on the third. Come lesson time, Woollett didn't notice the scratches, rubbed out the chalk and it all gathered in the "wanker". Cue sniggers, same on the second, laughter this time. Third time, class is in hysterics.

Mind you, the dare was unnecessary, I'm just a nasty little twat at heart.
(nobbyd is wanking furiously to industrial grade porn on, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 15:15, Reply)

I'm Terribly Drunk..
But...

Just read a really confusing thread that gave advice (but I'd class it as a dare) on what to do if you have a discharge from your knob....

"Wank until the fluid runs clear"

As I have an engineering sort of bent, that sounds like sound advice.

If I ever get an STD, then this is the way forward...

Now I'm thinking of going out and catching something just to see if this works....

Kudos to whatever B3tan thread I stole this from....

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 14:53, 8 replies)

holy hands
once, many years ago, i was playing with my friends behind an abandoned cork warehouse*.
there was a wall closing off the back door of the warehouse, but we'd previously removed the back door and leaned it against the wall so that we could climb over and slide down the other side. one of my friends had never been there with us before, so we dared her to climb over the wall and slide down the door, which she did.
what she didn't know was that her brother had pissed down said door about a minute previously.
sliding down a pissy door is, apparently, not fun. she flung her hands out to try to stop the slide, but unfortunately, she didn't see the large nail sticking out of the wall.
it went straight through her hand between her 4th and 5th fingers.
cue much blood, screaming, crying, laughing(from the rest of us) and one very contrite brother.
she still has the scar to this day and was very lucky not to lose her wedding ring finger.

*a warehouse for storing corks, not a warehouse in cork.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 14:25, Reply)

babies
A few years ago (I must have been about 12/13) I was at a house party and we were hyped up on Bacardi Breezers or whatever poor excuse for alcohol we liked to drink back in those days, and we started daring each other to do prank phone calls. One girl, R, was the best at them. She was a natural at manipulation and making people on the other end of the line believe the shit she was pouring down it.

Anyway. R phoned up a random number and pretended to be in labour. "OHMIGOD IT HURTS" etc. She hangs up, we laugh, the end. But no. A few days later, R phones me up crying that there were police outside the house. She was seriously bricking it (we were only 12 remember). Later on the rozzers came to my house to tell me that a dead newborn child had been found and they were looking for the mother, who was presumed to be young, at risk of death due to some complications and very scared.

The poor victim of our prank phone call had only phoned the police and told them of the sobbing girl who called her after reading about said dead baby in the local paper.

After 2 days of questioning we were let off with a very severe warning for wasting poliece time and hindering an investigation and beatings from our parents (we deserved worse).
(reducedfatLOLcat, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 14:21, Reply)

Ah school...
My friends and I dared a mutual friend to take a dump in a phone box. Never thinking for a second that a. she would or b. would go back on three subsequent occasions to repeat her glory.

O Birmingham, so much to answer for.

What are the blue cakes in a urinal by the way. I am a lady (well...kind of) and have never seen one.
(Siouxfan I'm not staring at you, I am just short sighted, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 14:06, 7 replies)

Rip-off merchant
Growing up, one of my friend's cousins dared his brother to cartwheel down the stairs in their house for 50p.

Result for the brother: a broken collarbone, a dislocated shoulder, and no 50p!
(Onion Terror, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 13:51, Reply)

Eat that
When I was a child growing up on a Navy housing estate, I was one of the smaller children in the gang from down our road.

So reson is that if there is anything stupid to be done, or anything a bit unsavory, it would probably come my way.

This one girl (I forget her name) dared me to eat some mud and pointed a stick at me with mud on the end, so I did.

When she asked me what it tasted like, I gave an honest answer that really wasn't what she wanted to hear. "It tastes like mud" I said, which of course mud does taste like.

BTW, is Chatham still as nasty as I remember?
(lympicita_ie, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 13:00, 2 replies)