Eviction! Police! Triple Dares!
My flatmate and I were in a meeting with our landlord which got a little heated (to say the least) and ended up with him wanting to evict us on the spot and not let us back into the building for our stuff, at all, ever!

He threatened to phone the police to have us arrested and all sorts of nonsense at which point my flatmate jumped out of his chair, picked up the phone on the desk and shouted...

"Go on then, i double dare, NO I TRIPLE F*CKING DARE YOU!"

He phoned them.

Now that was a stupid dare.




I get the feeling that had it been a single or maybe even double dare, our landlord would have just laughed it off, but who can resist a TRIPLE dare?!
( Mister B is eating an icanhazcheezburger with lmaonaise, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 15:56, 2 replies)

Health & What???
back in the halcyon daze when kids were still allowed to be kids, we used to build and burn our own bonfire every year. Separate groups of half-a-dozen or so kids would separately contribute from about mid October congregating only for the traditional November 5th blaze.

That was the magic of Guy Fawkes (or 'Bonner night') when I was young. The chance to mess around with fire without adult supervision came only once annually and, since most young boys have at least some form of pyromania, the opportunity was NEVER wasted. I remember on one occasion, we carried out an early refuse collection over several surrounding streets just to gather more combustibles.

It all came to a conspicuous end the year my brother and a few others got 'clever'. The bonfire had burned down to a roughly 6-foot diameter patch of embers and debris when some prick thought it would be cool to jump over the middle. Such is usually the case that an informal dare gathers pace, feeding from the bravado of not being outdone and peer pressure. It was actually quite impressive to an 8 year old firebug with singed eyebrows such as myself, to see several 'bigger boys' repeatedly carrying out this feat.

Several rounds of dangerous leaping progressed and all was well until my brother made his next attempt. On the final step of approach, his shoelace caught on (what I think was) a spring remaining from a sofa or mattress, cutting short his phoenix flight and causing him to land on hands & knees in the middle of the incandescent ashes.

Thankfully he was up & away in a second or two. His legs were no worse than sunburn due to him wearing jeans, but his hands were a different story. He was in hospital for a week with his hands raised and sealed in plastic bags filled with cream stuff. He had daily operations to remove blisters which apparently grew to the size of tennis balls, and clean out the embers that had embedded. He was even featured on regional news, obviously neglecting to mention that he was jumping over the fire when he fell in.

He had skin grafts a couple of weeks later and surprisingly, doesn't have any noticable scars now (20 years later, mind).

The bastard fucked bonfire night for me permanently that year. I had to risk severe punishment to practice fire-setting after that. What's worse is that the very next year, mum took us to the pictures to keep us 'safe' and what did I have to sit through? Fucking GHOST.
I ask you gentlemen; How would a Patrick swayzee rom-com compare to fireworks and arson when you were 9?
(Greencloud Wanted to go fishing on, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 15:51, Reply)

Thought i'd get this in early...
My flatmate and I play the "I'll give you a quid" game almost everyday....

- Stood in front of the new Playstation 3 display in HMV, large sign announcing "DO NOT TOUCH" and burly security gorilla not 2 feet away, my flatmate announces "I'll give you a quid to touch it"... done.

- Eating lunch, a full pot of sweet chilli dip left on my flatmates plate. "I'll give you a quid to drink all that in one"... done etc.

Sometimes we invite other people in, sometimes we play pranks on those other people, sometimes we even haggle over the price for bigger dares. ooooooooh!

Not the best answer to a QOTW but I was only dared for a quid, if i'd haggled to a tenner you might have gotten a better story.
( Mister B is eating an icanhazcheezburger with lmaonaise, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 15:51, Reply)

I was once dared to jump over the moon
The little dog laughed to see such sport
And I never did get my spoon back off of bloody dish!
(Vic Flange, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 15:50, Reply)

Climbing Tower Bridge
I was once dared to walk the length of London's famous Tower Bridge - along the blue supporting structure right to the other side!

I heroically accepted, and managed to climb a good 3 feet off the ground before panicking and shouting for assistance, clinging to the bridge like a koala.

Luckily someone threw a shoe at me and I fell safely back on to the grass.
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 15:48, 2 replies)

Stupid, stupid, stupid....
Was at a party when I was 17. It was all geeting a bit crazy, loads of people rolling up in cars, crashing the party, white powder everywhere. Me, I was just relaxing with a beer outside the house where this was happening. One of those nice moments when you are on your own looking at the chaos around you and saying to yourself 'ha ha glad this isn't my place'.

Anyway, up strolls Dave (not real name of course). He is out of breathe and covered in sweat. He had just been running around like a nutter with a couple of other guys, wrestling on the lawn etc. He looks at me and says 'you know what Polish bstard? I feel invincible! I could do anything? Go on, dare me to do anything and I'll do it!'

Now just in front of the house was a group of bushes about shoulder height. I thought 'well he's asked but what can i get him to do that is possibly impressive but harmless?'. 'OK' I said off hand 'I bet you can't vault that bush'. I lifted my beer to drink and was suprised when from standing still he throws himself over said bushes like an olympic athlete. 'Fuck yeah' I yelled impressed by his achievement.

Dave stands up in triumph, arms raised to the heavens. However, what neither of us was aware of was that on the other side of the bushes was not the lovely soft grass of the house's front lawn but a small but ever so dangerous rockery.

As Dave cheers his success I notice that there is blood streaming down the side of his face. A shit load of blood. The poor bugger had hit his face on a rock on the way down and unbeknownst to him (due to a large amount of alcohol inbibed) had slit the side of his face open from chin to temple.

'Fuck Dave' I said 'your bleeding mate!'. Dave puts his hand up to his face expecting a small amount of claret. His hand is covered and his t shirt is rapidly becoming covered in blood. He races into the kitchen to the sink (and covers someones new white football shirt in blood at the same time).

Anyway, one of the girl's Dad is a doctor nearby and he comes (and first sees the destruction of the house) and takes Dave to hospital.

Everyone is standing around in shock. Why did he do that? What on earth possessed him to do that?

I kept very quiet and went home soon afterwards.

From then on I keep dares to daring guys to chatting up girls and other harmless stuff involving BB guns and bare skin etc.....


PS Dave was ok apart from the scars.....
(Polish bstard, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 15:47, Reply)

how stupid was i?
my friend once dared me to walk over the flyover(bridge over a main road/motorway) on the wrong side of the railings. so i did.

standing on a lip of concrete 1 inch thick over a 25-foot drop to certain death on the busy road below is not fun. especially when you're wearing high heels and you're drunk. i did manage to cross the entire flyover like this, but i nearly shat myself doing it.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 15:41, 1 reply)

More drink-related projectile vomiting, I'm afraid
At the height of our usual Friday night drinking session, Pat dared Balders if he could drink a Top Shelf.

"What's a Top Shelf?"

"A Top Shelf, young man," he slurred, already three sheets, "is a pint glass filled with one shot from each optic on the top shelf of the bar."

"Oh. OK, then."

You get 18 shots in a pint glass, it costs a bloody fortune, and it tastes of Pernod.

The two of them actually managed to finish the thing between them, before staggering outside and puking all over my brother's car. Then they were sick in my brother's car, and as he was complaining about the woe that had befallen him on his night as designated driver when he could have been out chasing slatterns, all over his best Top Man jumper.

Top Shelf: NO.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 15:38, 7 replies)

Hmmmmm
I once dared a friend to drop four tabs of LSD (blue planets, for the trainspotters amongst you). He still thanks me for the fiver I gave him... in crayon on a big piece of A3 sent from a secure psychiatric unit.

I think we both lost.
( wotofco pissing in your swimming pool, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 15:33, 1 reply)

Lutefisk!
No, I've never eaten the stuff, nor have I ever seen it. I have, however, heard tales.

Monstrous tales.

Apparently in Norway they used to soak cod in lye as a preservative. If you didn't know, lye plus fat equals soap. So there's this traditional Norwegian food that is basically soapy-tasting gelatinous fish that True Norwegians profess to love, although many have quietly told me that it's the most disgusting thing they've ever eaten.

It's long been my theory that lutefisk originated as a drunken dare between two Vikings- "Right then, I'll bet you won't eat THIS!"

Better you than me, guys.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 1 Nov 2007, 15:30, 4 replies)

Double Donkey Dare
When someone is dared to do something, they have the option of declining, albeit while losing face in the process. As some of you may know, when someone is Double Donkey Dared to so something, they simply must. There is no forfeit or anything, because you simply must do it. This in itself acts as a sort of check, since daring someone to do something too fucked up would inevitably come back to haunt the bastard darer, as they would have to do something even worse as punishment.

This is an awesome rule in school (how I miss that place) or out, since you end up doing a lot of fun things. Moon the teacher? Check. Stroke the leg of the incredibly shy? You must! Draw a large cock at the bottom of your work before handing it in? Diminished responsibility Miss, I was Double Donkey Dared.

We realised that the power was too much for us mere children to wield as soon as the words, 'Kit, I dare you... nay Double Donkey Dare you, to kick Mrs Mullins. Hard. In the arse' had been spilled. It took about two days of waiting, but finally the moment came, standing in the dinner cue. Said teacher pushed her way to the front, (as some of the cuntisher ones often did,) at which point Kit spotted his opportunity, rushed forwards two meters and kicked her. Hard. In the arse.

By the time she was back on her feet, Kit had slotted neatly back into line, and despite her shouting and threatening, no-one cracked (because she was a cunt, seriously, an absolute cunt.) He got away with it, but as one, we knew the time of the Double Donkey Dare had passed. It was over.
(Daveh, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 15:26, 1 reply)

Boring old fart
I've never challenged anyone to a dare, nor performed one. The whole idea has always seemed utterly adolescent, even when I was an adolescent. I'm interested to see how many of this week's answers were not:

- performed under the influence of alcohol or drugs
- undertaken while very young
- performed by someone of sub-human intelligence
- influenced by peer pressure of one kind or another.

I once saw someone eat a teaspoon of English mustard for a 20p bet. He was a tit and so were the people who dared him.
(frankspencer, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 15:23, 15 replies)

Dares
This is second hand info and if it isn't true....well.. no it really shouldn't be.
An old friend of mine was in a pub close to home in Yorkshire; an old style sawdust on the floor shit hole. He was in there with some mates at the end of a night on the piss. There were a couple of blokes propping up the bar, both obviously pissed, engaged in a heated but cryptic conversation..
"naaaaah wouldn't do it..."
"yeah you would"
"Naaaaah wouldn't nobody wuld"
"I would if i needed the cash"
"Naaaah you wouldn't"
"Wouldn't turn the cash down"
"No way dare you!"
"Right!"
At which point the last gentleman to speak dropped to his knees, undid the fly of the other and gave the other a blow job. To a quick and obvious finish.
He stood up, drained his pint, wiped his mouth and proclaimed with a smug grin, "Right that's fifty quid you owe me!".
There's a message here; people in pubs watching something like this and people who slow down to look at car wrecks have the same mentality. Or maybe they're just pissed?
(DustyD, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 15:23, Reply)

well Ard
Two nights ago i was drunk in a friends house and he dared me to try to lift some weights, now I'm not the strongest bloke in the world and these were clearly beyond my capacity.

Nevertheless i do two reps and then stop, not a bother on me.

the next morning the first thing i notice, (well actually the second after the monstoro hangover) is that i cant move my head right without experiencing intense pain.

I spent halloween lying on the floor.
(BobbyDarin Was somewhere Beyond the Sea on, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 15:08, 1 reply)

I once heard about some lad
...who was dared to drink a bottle of cooking oil. His shit came out like an oil slick apparantly
(davefromkent, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 14:56, 2 replies)

I watched my mate bum my other mate IN THE ARSE
Over a decade ago, after giving up actively trying to off myself and instead taking to drown myself in gin, [I know, I know: boo hoo hoo] it naturally followed I should acquaint myself with others who also thought naught of breakfasting on cornflakes and vodka. Two of these were called Kev and S******. Workmanlike names for two eccentrics. S****** had an obsessive fixation with the Sex Pistols and Kev was, well, he was Kev.

We were sitting in Kev’s flat. He’d rented if from a Russian émigré – it was bedecked with crushed red velvets, had a dead tiger skin by the fire and a four poster bed. Because of the cold, and the tedium of the gas board, we were in his bedroom, huddled around the gas heater. Because we were us, we were drinking so much that only the smoke from the high tar cigarettes was keeping us afloat.

I can’t quite remember how it started, but I remember kissing Kev for a dare. It wasn’t pleasant. As I ran my hands up his face, and my tongue explored his mouth (“In for a penny”), I was perturbed by stubble and the faint but all too tangible taste of burped up lager. After the kiss, Kev dared S****** to kiss him. Which S****** did.

“Alright then” said S******, as easy as the first drink after the first drink. “I bet you wouldn’t suck my cock though!”

Now, Kev never backed down from anything – which is why he is dead. Kev got on his knees.

“Jesus” I said. I remember that I said “Jesus”.

Kev took S******’s cock, tugged it a bit and put it in his mouth. It was like being on the wrong set of a bad porn. I could see his head move. When he took it out, of course I looked. S****** was not hard. He looked bored.

“Impressive” said S******. "But you wouldn’t..."

“Jesus” I thought

“You wouldn’t dare fuck me, would you." So, with a sigh, Kev pulled down his jeans. He was not aroused.

“This is odd” I thought as, ever the gentleman, Kev turned away to try to get hard. He couldn’t, so we had a laugh about it and my girlfriend took him in her mouth.

“At least I’m not a tourist in life” I thought “Everyone hates a tourist, eh Jarvis” Then Kev fucked S****** in the arse. It was a workmanlike performance. The grunting and panting reminded me of Wolverhampton Wanderers. They sounded like a Second Division defender, diligently tracking back. The ashtrays looked like burst explosions. The gin looked as sweet as broken glass. And that’s what I looked at. That's what I looked at, as I tried not to hear them.
“Fuck, this is grim” said Kev.
“Want to be where I am” complained S******.

At this point I noticed my girlfriend had gone quiet. I could see the way she was drawing on her cigarette. I could see the way, and I didn’t like it at all.
(sirolimus, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 14:54, 14 replies)

The Cream Challenge
Pretty self explanatory. Back in secondary school a group of us used to always go into the local sainsbury's on the way to school, and fill our school bags with any random Basics range we could find.

One day whilst browsing the shelves, I stumbled upon the dairy section. I bought four pint pots of "extra-thick" triple cream. Lunchtime comes, and one of our group dares me and some mates to see who can down a pot the quickest.

Bad idea. Me and two others got through about a quarter of the pot before throwing up all over the place... thick, creamy puke. I managed to look up to see my best mate finishing off the last of his pot. He stood absolutely still for a good ten seconds, then threw up the most vile concoction of sick I've ever seen. We then all cleared off sharpish, leaving a huge collection of whitey/yellow thick spew over the floor.

To our glee, the mate who finished his complained of heart pains for the next week.
( Risk It For A Biscuit has a helicopter and lives in space, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 14:54, Reply)

Deeeepthroat
Back when I was about 17 a load of us were round a mates house having some japes, chugging back the hairy spider and generally having a jolly good time. I have no idea how it came about, as I was generally too skinflint to risk any of my hard earned parents money, but I ended up claiming that yes, indeed I could get at least half of my friend Tom's naked, unwashed, size 8 foot in my mouth. (Size 8 is 10" so about 5 inches of man-foot.)

No doubt we've all seen people deepthroat much longer things, but bare in mind that a foot is also quite wide, and has nails on the end. But for £10, got to be worth a shot eh?

We drew a mark/target on his foot and I gave it a shot, but came nowhere near. Tried it again and his foot got to the back of my throat, but I was still about an inch off the mark. Third time lucky I actually grabbed the back of his heel and forced it that one further inch, just reaching the mark before wretching his foot back out, then vomiting into my mouth.

Woke up the next morning with quite a sore throat, but thought nothing of it until later that day, when Tom withdrew a tenner on our way past an ATM machine and stuffed it in my hand, with a look of shame. That bought the memories back alright, and looking in the mirror later I realised that there were quite a few large scratches on the back of my throat. Quite proud, in a 'what the hell was wrong with us back then' way, because I generally have an awesome gag reflex, I've accidently purged while chewing gum because it came too close to the back of my mouth.
(Daveh, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 14:48, Reply)

I haven't done anything like this for years, but
when I was a drunken undergraduate, my freinds and I used to undertake dares so often that we devised a series of hugely inadvisable games.

1)Tits. Wait till you're in an environment where there will be dire consequences to getting your norks out but no-one is really looking just now. Give as long a flash as you dare. Good times to play include when the lecturer is writing on the board, in the cinema etc. (obviously you need to sit at the back). We were always trying to out-do each other and normally got away with it. The only time I was caught was during the last but one world cup when I thought all the the apes shouting engerland in a dodgy pub in King's cross would have their eyes glued to the big screen. How wrong I was. I finished my pint at a normal rate before we had to beat a "dignified" retreat.

2)More tits. For a less dangerous situation, such as walking down a not too full street, we had a second version. Find a lone (and not too aggresive-looking) guy who is facing your direction but not really watching. Give a quick flash and watch the expression of "did I really see that". Act as if nothing happened. Marks awarded for reaction. The best time is with a group of people where one can see but is too far away from his mates to tell them to look befoe it's too late. Eavesdrop discretely on their not believing his story.

3)Swearing. Walk up to someone on the street. Someone innocent and shockable looking (but adult). Say excuse me or some such phrase in your most polite voice as if you are going to ask for directions or something. Swear in the most vile way possible. Walk off as if you did just ask for directions. Very childish this one but up to age about 18 it seemed funny.

4)Complete insanity. When out for a drink if we saw someone who seemed sufficiently dangerous, the 2 of us mad enough to play this game would point the guy out as a possible target. We'd then try and work out the most insulting thing we could possibly say (and we came up with some very good ones). If we came up with something really top class I was invariably dared to go and say it. I always did. If not so good, I would dare my (male) freind to kiss the guy. He gave in if he was drunk enough. The reason we never got beaten up doing this is that if you are shocking and unexpected enough, people can't believe what just happened and stand there like they've been tangoed while you walk calmy away.

Thankfully, by the time you graduate the desire to do this kind of thing fades.
(Lotus Eater exposed herself on, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 14:46, 10 replies)

Pickled Eggs
It was a saturday afternoon in a pub in the middle of the peak district, myself and 3 "crazy student' friends go for a pint.

After one drink and a Pickled egg I was skint. So my friends clubbed together and offered me £20 if I ate the rest of the Pickled eggs in the Jar. There where 19 more eggs.

We asked the barmaid to line them up on the bar in shot glasses (which she duly did) by this time we were attracting quite a crowd of locals who wanted to see what the 'crazy students' were getting up to.

So I began. Egg 1 fine, I like Pickled eggs, this was going to be a breeze. Egg 2 still good. By egg 4 the dry yolk texture was beggining to dry my mouth out, and the rubbery white was making me feel ill.

By egg 12 the crowd had subsided, people lost interest including my friends as this was taking some time!

Egg 19 finally came I quietly collected my money and went off to the toilet to be sick.

It turns out however that after 20 Pickled eggs it's quite hard to be sick. So I spent the rest of the evening feeling really rough and the £20 I had earnt for more drinks was useless.

Also I didn't poo for a week and when I did it was like two coke cans placed on top of each other. I had to get a stick from the garden to help it through the U bend.
( Wildyles is back to rimming chimps, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 14:46, 2 replies)

On a medical course
we were at a demonstration of nasogastric aspiration: Mr Tube went down nose & throat, and with the help of Mr Syringe partially digested spaghetti and mash came up. One bright spark bet the instructor £10 he wouldn't then ingest the contents of someone else's guts- he accepted. Cue whip round, £10 in assorted shrapnel appeared; the instructor went a little bit green, realising he would have to go through with it. He swirled the orange-white sludge round a couple of times in the dish, tipped his head back with open mouth, and swallowed the lot in one. Yum. Everyone went white; I feel a little queasy recalling it, 19 years later.
( uncle bastard is twanging a dan moi, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 14:46, Reply)

'nanas
At school, I was once bet half a pack of Fruit Salads that I couldn't eat a banana skin. It took me about 15 minutes to eat the rancid skin, which tasted like bitter, mouldy old rubber soaked in $5 whore's gopping chuff. I nearly choked to death on the stork bit too.

After finishing, I turned to the guy who bet me and smugly asked for my sugary prize. At which point he started handing the sweets around to the other onlookers whilst laughing at me and calling me a stupid bastard. I felt most aggrieved at the time, but on reflection I can only admire his concise appraisal of the situation and the ruthless use of my gullible nature for a cheap laugh.

Later on, I threw up green slime.
(The Louce, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 14:43, 1 reply)

A dare, last week
A friend bet me £2,000 I'd be the last person to post in the "expensive mistakes" QOTW.

Oh, hang on.
(ChaRleyTroniC is invincible with his chips and cheese, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 14:37, Reply)

Tramadol Hydrochloride
a couple of years back i blagged that i was in an accident to get signed off work for a couple of weeks. I got prescribed 100 x 200mg capsules of tramadol hydrochloride, (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tramadol_hydrochloride) which i obviously didn't need.. so i decided to take them down the pub one night.

now we have this mate, jonny, who will pretty much experiment with anything. perfect.

the warning on the package clearly states to take no more than 4 in a 24hr period. a few months later i was actually in pain, and took 4 and was completely out of it for the whole night.

anyway, back to the pub... so we dared jonny to take 10 of these tramadols in different ways whilst he had been drinking. here's how he did them;

x2 swallowed with beer as normal
x2 cracked open & powder snorted off the table
x2 cracked open and poured into his beer
x2 cracked open and put into bag of crisps
x2 mixed with tobacco and smoked in a roll up

this was all done within 10 minutes, 15 minutes after taking them we had moved the discussion on, when suddenly jonny announces that he can't see much and can't really hear properly either. so we send him off home. now bear in mind this is sunday night. next we hear from him is wednesday. it turns out he had gone to bed for 2 whole days, woken up wednesday morning and ridden into work on his pushbike, thinking it was monday morning. Only to recieve a bollocking from his boss about not turning up to work for 2 days. you can imagine his confusion! the poor guy had been asleep from sunday night to wednesday morning!! we pissed ourselves when we found out why he hadn't been answering his phone or door for 2 days! but in hindsight i realise it was a pretty stupid thing to do.
(boosh, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 14:28, 6 replies)

spose it was a dare
a few mate's dared me to shag a big fat ugly bird
(fucking stupid considering they knew me)
i did so and also collected nearly three hundred quid from them!

length was much apreciated
(incredible wrongun, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 14:27, Reply)

The consequences aren't particular impressive...
But it WAS stupid. And maybe worth sharing.

I was 13 at the time, at school, and one of the guys in class had brought in a video.

"Check it out boys, I've got some porn!". Cue impressed "ooooh" from all the other guys in the class, myself included.

Anyway, he left it in his bag and left it on his desk when he went to the Canteen for some food. A few of us sat there in the Form Room just staring at the bag of mystery and wonder.

"I bet it's just Bambi or something. Go on, Banwen... I dare you to put it on" one of them said, indicating the old school TV and VCR combo on one of those trolleys with a long extension power cord curled up behind it.

I uttered those immortal words (Which Dr Pepper totally stole from me for their ad campaign) "What's the worst that could happen?". And I grabbed the tape from his bag. Nervously approached the TV. Turned it on. And put the tape in.

Yup.

It was porn alright. Everyone started laughing. My mission was a complete success. I had done the dare, entertained the masses, and would surely be elected to the highest possible popularity group in the school.

Well, almost. For not 2 seconds later, some of the older kids ran in saying "Eh, look lads! PORN! PORN! Check it out! PORN!" and before I could turn it off they had taken control of the situation. With a riotous chant of "PORNO! PORNO! PORNO!" they wheeled the TV out into the corridor... And gave it a hard push in one direction.

Next door, a teachers meeting just so happened to be adjourning. So, all the most senior members of staff open the door... And the first thing they see... Is black and white, hardcore porn rolling past, facing them.


Pretty stupid, eh? I got into quite a lot of trouble, I got the "Are you curious?" speech from Mum and the humiliation of a lifetime for the remainder of my time at Secondary school. I was the Porn-on-wheels boy.

Ah well, c'est la vie.
(Uhmfhshhghd, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 14:25, 7 replies)

eating chillies
One of my brother's friends bought in a bag of chillies procured from his dad's Indian restaurant. The strongest he could find. My brother, having grown up on bland English fare and never having been in the same room as anything stronger than an spring onion, took up the dare to eat the whole bag of chillis for £1.

Brother tips chillis into mouth, chews, swallows. Seems OK. Then starts to go a funny colour. Runs to classroom sink (his form room was a science lab, luckily) sticks his head under the tap. Runs to window, vomits out of window. Then back to tap. Then back to window, new year 7 pupil is walking below, is sick on the girl's head. Girl cries.

After ten minutes of running back and forth and then a further five before he was able to talk, my brother demands his pound.

After a debate it is decided that he lost the dare because he didn't keep the chillies down. Deputy Head appears at classroom door with distressed and soggy young girl. Brother has week of detention.
( hanabanana, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 14:22, 1 reply)

Andy..
There's a bloke who lives in the village I've just left called Andy. Lovely, lovely bloke but, as he's happy to admit himself, not the sharpest knife in the rack. Oh, and nothing to do with the story, but he also looks like a film-star.

Fuck off Pawlack, this has nothing to do with you

Now Andy has a talent, a trick if you like, in that he's *very* good with a Samurai sword. His party-trick is getting someone to put a bath-towel (for the blood you know) on their head and placing an apple on top of the towel. Then he'll split it. He'll either half the thing horizontally, leaving half an apple on your head, or vertically where the bisected apple will just drop, in two halves, to the ground.

I'd heard about this, when I moved to the village, but never seen it.


Then, one drunken night, I saw it. Some bloke was giving Andy grief and daring him to prove that, what was said about him, could be done. After much to-ing and fro-ing Andy eventually gave in and went and got his sword. I was there.

Drunken hard-man stood there with a bar-towel on his head, apple, dead centre, and Andy drew his sword. He kissed the blade and looked straight into the eyes of the hard-man. And swung.

The blade hissed, it really did, almost, but not quite, the sound you hear in bad kung-fu movies, and sliced the apple into two pieces. One, about 95% of the apple, fell to the ground, and hard-man was left with a sliver sitting on top of the towel on his head.

"I thought you said you could do it into two individual pieces" sneers hard-man..

"I normally can" slurs Andy "But this the first time I've tried to do it drunk"

Hard-man goes white.


Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 14:07, 4 replies)

Becky
My best mate Becky is GREAT for this kind of thing, you can dare her to do anything and she'll do it.

The one that makes me laugh the once was the time we were walking through town, a police car had pulled someone over and they were talking on the side of the road.
We dared Becky to go over and say to the policeman: "Excuse me, i'm a nosy bitch, what's going on?". God knows what he said back.

Another one was while a GCSE exam was in process. She'd sneaked a small Mr. Men toy in, and about half in hour into the English exam an insane giggling came from this toy and filled the whole hall. She didn't get thrown out because nobody knew where it came from.
( Lollylegs lite, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 14:03, Reply)