Eating a Jizz Sandwich
A while ago I spent a season working in a ski resort. 2 of my mates out there had a season long bet on a pool competition - whoever had won the most games by a given date won. The looser had the choice of penalties - either ski from the top of the mountain to the bottom completely naked, or eat a jizz sandwich, prepared by the winner.

Fearing instant deportation for being naked in public, Alex went for the jizz option.

The sandwich was presented on a bed of freshly plucked pubes, and I've never seen anyone gag so much trying to eat a sandwich!

The beauty of this is that there's plenty of video evidence to back it all up!
(charlie1105, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 17:36, 4 replies)

Egg
I bet my mate he couldn't swallow a whole boiled egg, he was adamant that he could do it so I bet him a tenner. On goes the pan 5 mins later he has a boiled egg, sticks it in his mouth and swallows, job done! Suddenly he breaks down almost in tears, the egg had split and having not boiled it for long enough the still runny yolk had come out burning his throat like molten laver! He had trouble eating and talking for a while, never did give him the tenner.
(Barry from Botton, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 17:34, Reply)

This is hugely embarassing
When I escaped the nuns and first started going drinking in zomgpubs with my girly mates, we used to frequent a pub that had one of those machines selling "furry lovecuffs" and "pocket pleasure vibrators" and the like in the toilets. Being straight out of convent school we naturally found this absolutely hilarious.

(I would like to inform you all here that I KNOW and I have fully grown up now, I promise)

One night after a few too many bubblegum reefs (oh yes) my friends dared me to go investigate and buy one of these pocket pleasure thingies "because I just want to see what it's like, yeah..." and being the drunken over-confident teenager that I was, I said I would. So we all clubbed together and raised the necessary £3 and off I went to make the purchase. Of course, it didn't work, and our £3 was swallowed and gone forever. So they all decide I need to get a refund.

I was very against it at first, but then they all said they would gladly give up the money and let me keep it if I could manage to get a refund. £3 was 20 superkings, or a rather good night in the wetherspoons, and so I was sold. I got to the bar and the conversation went:

Me: "uh...hi, I...ummm....put some money in one of the...umm....machines in...umm..."
Barman: "You put some money in the vibrator machine and it hasn't worked, yeah?"
Me: "Oh, I...umm, yeah, its swallowed my cash"
Barman (obviously amused): "Yes yes, tee hee, how much?"

(This is where I feel like a right bastard, it's still my main drinking place, but teenage bravado kicked in).

Me: "Yeah, umm...well I tried twice, so it was £6"

And it worked! £6 richer and peer group approval, they all thought I was well cool.

Length, girth, I know I pretended otherwise but I didn't really know any better at that age
( SugarSpunSister Yeah, whatever, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 17:27, 2 replies)

Scuba diving shenanigans
I don’t know if this qualifies as a dare as such.

For the last 10 years I have belonged to a local scuba diving club (not that I’ve done any diving for the last 2 years, but that’s another story). Now, the club has had its fair share of ‘interesting’ members in the past, and ‘Dave’ was no exception (not real name, obviously).

But first, some background.

Our club is based in the north east of England, and therefore we do most of our diving off the north east coast. Not exactly tropical, but surprisingly there are some stunning dives to be had. There’s some absolute shit as well, but… Anyway, as the water temperature varies from ‘bloody hell it’s a bit nippy’ to ‘AAAAAAGGGHHH IT’S FREEZING’ we wear dry suits, and several layers of thermals underneath.

A drysuit, for the non-initiated, is exactly that - it keeps you dry. It’s made of heavy duty material, like neoprene, sealed at the neck and wrists, and most of them you have to climb into through a zip at the back. You’re then zipped up by someone else, and away you go.

Back to Dave. At the time the club had its own boat – an 8m, rigid hull Tornado inflatable – bloody fast, probably the fastest boat of its type anywhere on the north east coast. A troop of hardy divers had headed out to sea for a day’s diving. Good weather, decent sea state, all very jolly and nice. Most of the divers are down scrabbling on the bottom of the north sea, leaving Dave, the cox and another diver on board.

‘Christ’ says Dave, 'I’m dying for the bog'.

‘Well, just go off the end of the boat’, says the cox.

‘I can’t do that’ says Dave, ‘what if someone sees’?

‘Dave, we’re 3 miles out to sea and there’s not another boat in sight. Who’s gonna see you’?

‘Yeah, but you never know’, bleats Dave, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

‘Look, no one is going to see you, there’s only three of us on the boat, the rest aren’t going to be back up for a while yet, just go off the end of the bloody boat will you? Do something daring for once in your life’.

Panic and desperation setting in, Dave reluctantly decides to go off the end of the boat. Once unzipped from his dry suit, he clambers up onto the engine housing and ducks under the A-frame. The other 2 on the boat, either in deference to Dave’s shyness, or possibly just indifferent to his plight, continue to scan the waters for signs of divers off the bow. However, they are alerted to an odd sound from the back of the boat, and thinking Dave may have slipped, turned to look…

…To see Dave, drysuit round his ankles and holding onto the A-frame, curling one off into the depths of the north sea.

Thank god there were no divers surfacing at that point. I would imagine the sight of a 16 stone, hairy arsed diver having a shit off the end of a boat could be quite disturbing…
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Thu 1 Nov 2007, 17:25, 7 replies)

bored bar staff
i've done my fair share of working behind bars... last place I was at I had the Monday and Tuesday shift amongst others. Bearing in mind this is a semi rural pub with no quiz nights or anything on on these days.

Long and short of it, by 10 to eleven someone bet me 2 quid to eat the slice of lemon that had been sitting in the plug hole of the behind-the-bar sink where everyone chucks down any left over beer and rinses the clothes and ashtrays out.

It didnt taste lemony. It was brown.

Then I did a double or quits to wring the manky old cloth from said sink into a glass and drink the "water".

4 quid well earned.

*gips at the thought*
( canyousmellonions? spirit is willing but flesh is spongy, and bruised, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 17:24, Reply)

mystery fags
my mate Jane used to work in her dad's off licence, where i would usually sit and keep her company. there was a very seedy pub next door, with many alcoholics staggering into the offy for fags and stuff. there was one particular woman who would get utterly shitfaced by 10 a.m, then come into the shop and ask Jane to make her some rollies because she couldn't manage to make them herself.
one day, Jane and I were in a mischievous mood so, when the old baggage came in asking us to make rollies, we said o.k, but you'll have to come back in about 10 minutes to pick them up. as soon as she tottered off back to the pub, i dared Jane to make her some nasty fags and we got busy.
first, we took some fizzy sugar granules out of the bottom of the penny sweets container. this went into the first fag.
for the next, we put grass in. the third contained toenail clippings. the fourth, salt.
the fifth, however, was our most audacious piece of trickery. we simply took the liquorice centres from 3 of Bertie Bassett's finest, laid them end to end, then rolled a fag paper around them. it was obvious that it wasn't anything you'd want to smoke so, fearing we'd get caught and bollocked by her dad, Jane said that enough was enough and set about making some normal ones as well.
five minutes later, our drunken dupe rolls in, looking for her smokes. we handed over the doctored fags and watched as she lit one. the liquorice one. watching the stinking, oozing black crap bubbling out of the end is something i won't forget in a hurry.
it wouldn't light properly, of course, so she selected another one, which i'm fairly sure was the sugary one. pink sparks aplenty! god knows what she thought was going on. she went back to the pub, muttering to herself, leaving us to laugh until we cried.

length? 15 years and she still hasn't worked out she was trying to smoke liquorice.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 17:23, Reply)

If it's good enough for cattle
Two weeks ago i allowed my friend to brand me with a metal coat hanger bent into the shape of an 'M' and heated up on the hob.....three times.
A trip to A&E and some anti-biotics if you were wondering
(MarKo K, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 17:20, 1 reply)

Stand in two buckets ...
My dad used to be a fireman. Once upon a time (about 30 years ago), he and some other guys on his watch actually managed to get another guy trying to prove that he could stand in two buckets and lift himself up. Seriously. Convinced he could do it, but he did give up in the end.
( The Vomiting Hitchhiker Mephistopheles is such a mouthful in Manhattan, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 17:12, Reply)

Eating Fags...
We once bet a guy in our local £10 to eat a packet of twenty fags.

He did it but unfortunately he was to violently ill afterwards that he could not claim his prize...

Boy did we laugh on the way back from hospital!
( Wobbly Bloke Hello, did I miss anything on, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 17:11, Reply)

Gay Chicken
Back in the good old days of school a friend and I were dared to play a game of Gay Chicken. I don't know how widespread this game is but the basic premise is that two people of the same sex move in as if to kiss each other, and the first one to pull back loses.

Now both I and the friend I was playing with are stubborn, and would have rather kissed another girl than lost, so we got to the point where we were practically touching lips. Suddenly the door banged open and our housemaster Mr Smith was standing there. Cue much leaping backwards and fumbled explanations from us ("...um...chicken. it was gay chicken!").

And this was at the time lesbian rumours were circulating... I don't think Mr Smith ever looked me in the eye again.
(Katurian, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 17:10, 2 replies)

Family
My brother bet me and my sister we couldn't push him out our bedroom window.

We failed, but I think it's partly because we felt that if we succeeded in pushing him from the first floor onto the spikes and concrete below we would have gotten into some sort of trouble.
(teebie jeebie, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 16:59, Reply)

Nettles!
I was small. Probably about six, but possibly younger.

My Mum was buying a second-hand car from an odd little yard off by the bypass. The man running the place had two kids about my age, running around, playing amongst the weeds. I was sent off to play with them whilst the grown-ups did the boring paperwork stuff.

The two kids motion me over to a certain patch of weeds. There, standing proud, was a nettle, completely brown and dried out, looking utterly dead.

One kid says "They don't sting when they're dead like that. I dare you to grab it!"

So I did. Very little of this memory remains with me, some good sixteen years on. I remember the crackling of the bone dry leaves in my little hand. I remember the smile of triumph on my little face. I remember the equally triumphant smiles of the two boys as the pain ripped through my hand, violently electric, horrific and overwhelming.

And, of course, I remember running to my Mum, streaming tears and snot, holding my wounded hand out to be tended to.

Nettles DO sting when they're dead!
(Musuko, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 16:56, Reply)

Once, for a pack of fags
I smoked a 'spliff' full of roaches of other spliffs, dust, shit off the floor and hair and fluff.

It was nasty.
(Half of Stephen Fry's right buttock pissed on your dog on, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 16:47, 1 reply)

'Pull a pig'
Going back several years, me and a group of mates were having a lads night out and ended up in a nightclub

For our own entertainment we decided to get one of our more "easily influenced" friends (I'll call him Luke) to try and 'pull a pig'.

Within minutes the target was spotted, ironically she looked a lot like a pig.
Duely, each of us offered up varying sums of money should he manage to pull said pig - there was about £70 riding on it.

About 1 hour in we spot Luke with his face attached to another women (not the pig). When they stopped kissing we get to see the girls face and she made the pig look like a beauty in comparison, she was so ugly you'd think she had some kind of disability.

Luke comes swaggering back over to us - "lets have the money then lads" he said confidently, but his confidence soon slipped away as we remind him that the money was for 'the pig' not any pig!

Ironically if he'd said "how much for her" we would probably have doubled our stakes, but no he is left haunted by that grim face that he sucked on for nothing...

The moral of the story - if you're gonna do stupid dares, do them properly!
(Bad_Dogg, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 16:38, 2 replies)

Coming off shift one morning....
Many moons ago I used to be a doghandler in the RAF.

We'd just taken delivery (the day before) of a brand new Hawson van and my mate Dave (for that is his name) was driving it back.

Almost back at the dog section, van doing approx 70-75mph, chap in the passenger seat (Walter, nickname) started a conversation...

Walter: "Bet you can't get this into 2nd"

Dave: "Bet I fuckin can!"

Dave then shoved the gear stick into 2nd. The engine did protest (for about 3 seconds) there was a loud bang and plenty of smoke billowed out the back, the van slowly wandered over to the side of the road.
Upon closer inspection of the under the bonnet, found 2 'almost' circular bits of metal (read side of engine) and behind them were two bits of the engine that certainly should never see the light of day, that'll be the pistons then.

In all my days i've never heard 4 blokes laugh as long and loud as we did that morning. One of us walked back to the section, got the other wagon and towed it back, Dave gotr on with the paperwork, explaining how he was driving 'within the limits' and the engine blew up.

Surprising Dave never got reamed for this as it transpired that there were 3 other Hawson vans, brand new, same make/model etc which had also suffered from the same fate as our wagon.

Which means did they drive round like fucking maniacs or was there a design flaw?
(Skeksis 2nd place is 1st loser....., Thu 1 Nov 2007, 16:34, 1 reply)

Michelle McManus
I said.

"If Michelle McManus wins Pop Idol, I'll eat a beer mat."

I had to chop it up and mix it in with some chocolate ice-cream. It tasted bad.
(Waspard has your wank bank account details, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 16:31, 1 reply)

To Poo or not to Poo...
Summer 1995, school holidays, sunny days, knuckling down to GCSE revision (NOT!) and all that malarkey.

Anyway, a few lads from school dare me £20 (which was a lot of money back then...) to go for a month without taking a dump. "Hmmm" says I, "I accept your challenge"...

Now, being the monkey that I am, I didn't stop to think that I could poo in the comfort of my own home where no one would ever know; subsequently lie about my fecal deposits and at the end of the month claim my 20quid reward... No. I went the whole hog.

20 or so days later, I'm laid up in bed with a fever, stomach cramps like you would no believe and a bowel full of some kind of unholy nastiness. I couldn't sleep properly for fear of unleashing my 'child', and I could barely move towards the end.

Needless to say I didn't abstain for the full month. I did however manage 22 days, which I feel is moderately impressive. The 'birthing' process was a long and painful one however, and one which lasted well into the following day (not in one continuous session might I add, but several lengthy shifts at the porcelain temple).

That was 13 years ago.

Last year I happened to be in the local shopping centre when I heard a cry of "Oi! small-non-bearded-gentleman-of-indistinguishable-origin, have you been for a shite yet?" resonating from below me...

Bah. All that pain and I never did get my £20.


the end.

by small-non-bearded-gentleman-of-indistinguishable-origin. Age 27 3/4


No apologies for length, but perhaps for the odour.
(small-non-bearded-gentleman-of-indistinguishable-origin, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 16:29, 2 replies)

Crap dare
Was once dared to down a pot of hot doritos dip and then chug 4 cans of Dr.Pepper.

I did it because i didn't have my lunch with me that day at school so i was quite chuffed and didn't see anything particularly amazing in doing this (i've swallowed 50p coins ffs!) but was held in suprisingly high esteem for ages


My mates used to be much easier to entertain back in the day...
(Xyphious : Sinkin' Gin since '85, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 16:20, Reply)

Smoking CAKE.
Once upon a time at a party having watched the Brasseye episode of 'Cake' (the spoof yellow drug), the drunken conversation was struck up of how to illicitly take genuine Mr Kipling style cake. Injection was ruled out, eating it was considered far too normal... Que myself and a certain chum rolling crumbled up dry birthday cake into a spliff with people betting up to ten pounds that we wouldn't be able to smoke it. 15 minutes of hacking, spitting, coughing, and dry sicking later, we returned teary eyed and red faced to the room having smoked the lot, and having inflicted massive damage to our lungs. We raised a cheer, got horrendously drunk and promptly forgot to claim the money. What a pair of numpties.
(Biromunch, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 16:20, 2 replies)

Me and my brother...
used to beat seven shades of shit out of each other on a regular basis, mostly to show each other who's boss but also for breaking the tedium on a Sunday evening. We were only about 8 and 6 respectively at the time, so at that age you'd do owt for a laugh.

Anyhow, one Sunday evening we decide to have a game of 'Do You Dare?'.

That evening's edition of the game basically consisted of getting your opponent's head and smacking it against our bedroom window.

Not too dare like you might think - but the aim of the game was to see how much (and how hard) of a battering your forehead could take.

You can see where this is going...

First up, it was me.

Our Kid being of the weedy sort, must have pummelled my head against the window pane about 20 times before I gave in.

So, his turn...

After about 10 smacks into the window, he started chuckling (he's a bit nuts) and proclaimed the ill-fated statement "IS THAT ALL YOU'VE GOT???"

How did I respond?

I put his head straight through the window pane, of course.

Thus causing a large amount of damage the window, spreading glass everywhere and more worryingly, covering my dear brother in tiny little cuts, and one or two larger ones.

The slippering I got off my dear ma still hurts today, about 18 years on.

Still, we both look back on it with fond memories - me for getting one over on him, and him for having the permanent scar on his neck that he likes to show off to the ladies. He says he got it in a nasty fight, but I know better.

There's more to come, so stay tuned...
(scentless_apprentice takes two bottles into the shower!, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 16:20, Reply)

The Great Jerry Can Catapult!!!
as a keen surfer and stoner layabout, I like nothing better than packing up some of my meagre possessions, cruising down the A30 to Cornwall and camping for a few days, enjoying the sun, surf and spliffs.

It was on one such occasion, after a few cans of St. Ella (patron saint of wife beating) that my buddy Carl revealed to us his bungee net.

This is a net made of bungee (or shock) cord with big plastic hooks at intervals around the edge.

As a group of stoners invariably do, we immediately saw the possibilities of this, and in a trice we had jury-rigged a powerful catapult using said net, and a VW Transporter van.

We tried various projectiles, and eventually settled on a (pretty much) empty jerry can.

The original aim of this was to fire the can through some cunningly erected hula hoops (not the delicious potato based snack)

Unfortunately, as tends to happen the gunner (me) got a little carried away and started firing at the person setting up the hoops.

This is where the dare comes in.

We challenged Carl (it's always Carl) to stand approximately 20 paces in front of the catapult and take a shot, being branded a pussy if he were to move in any way.

He agreed, but only on the condition that we could in some way protect his head.

This led to the development (again by yours truly) of the folding-camping-table-cum-helmet. basically a structure made of diamond shape trusses that fit over the shoulders, with a tight strip of webbing running down in front of the face.

Suitably attired, Carl stepped up to the plate.

With all my might I heaved back on the jerry can and net, and let loose an almighty shot, which clouted him in the left shoulder.

At this point he may have let out a cry of pain, but my other compatriots and I were to busy giggling to notice.

Naturally, this progressed into each of us having a turn and every one of us taking a shot to the face.

Due to the table/helmet we all escaped with noses and teeth intact, but seeing a jerry can hurtling towards your face with naught but a strip of webbing standing betwixt you and it is an almost trouser-browning experience.

Apologies for length, but the range was pretty good...
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 16:19, Reply)

poo and bangers
simple childish, funny and dangerous basically.
Back from france with loads of bangers. Whilst sucessfully finding stuff to blow up in and park, my mate stumbles across some dog shit and dares me to insert some of the more powerful bangers into the large, soft and relitivly fresh poo. Once the 2 bangers have been inserted i light them and run like a motherfucker with 2 mates away from the disaster area. Now Andy had a different idea and hid not to far away tucked behind a park bench. We have covered some ground by the time we hear the bang followed by Andy's screams. Looking around to see Andy running around in circles waving his arms around in the air. Poor kid got a fine coating of poo on his back and head. The was no sign of the dog turd.
(kurious orange, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 16:17, 3 replies)

Scout Camp
Our scout troup went on a special summer camp 'down south' with a grant form the lottery for the millenium. This included go-karting, swimming basically all our activities were subsidised. And so was our little jaunt around London.

We all lined up to go on the London Eye and whilst in the queue i dared my brother that he wouldn't pull a moony from the top of the London Eye to the bottom, which of course he did. And that my friends is how my brother got banned form the London Eye for life. Did i mention that there were other members of the public with us in the pod? and that my brother started to sing to himself.

"moony moony moonymoonymoony" Repeated about 200 times.

My mate took a photo form the pod adjacent to us so we have photographic evidence.
(PieEater, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 16:12, Reply)

Xanax
At a friend's party the day after the night before, i had a banging headache, was still drinking at the time, must have been 9am.
So anyway, i asked for some headache tabs. There wasn't any about except these Xanax tabs.

Not knowing what they were for i knew they were the pills that Hollywood stars were getting off on.

So i was given 3 (dunno if that was the recommended dose) and took 2.

I had one left.

So i got the credit card out and crushed it as much as i could, got the note and snorted it with as much vigour as i would with columbia's finest.

Cue 3 mins later i'm passed out cold, i wake up about 12 hours later in a empty house in an unfamiliar room next to my mate, without a hangover might i add and both of us casually left the house feeling quite refreshed.

What i was told by my mate as we were leaving was that when i passed out is that i banged my head quite hard on the kitchen table and stopped breathing, i was slapped a few times to wake up with no avail. i was brought into the living room where thankfully i started to breathe again, my pulse had slowed down. My mate offered to stay as everyone had work/families to go to. Before they left they carried me to one of the bedrooms and my mate was vigilantly watching if there was any change.

If your wondering why a ambulance wasn't called, we were in an area where ambulances aren't the most welcome.
Anyway the fucker fell asleep watching me and i woke up feeling ok considering what happened before.

I dared myself to do this and it was the most stupid thing i've ever done. Do not snort Xanax unless you want to sleep for 12 hours and scare your friends.
(TheNumpty last touched you at, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 16:07, Reply)

I suppose it's a dare of sorts.
Although I think he did it more to impress his mates than as a dare.

We'd been drinking in Norwich. On the way back to our feculant rented rooms, we passed a phone box with some cards posted on the glass.

One such card advertised a bike for sale, so my friend was dared to call and enquire about it's availability, bearing in mind the pubs had chucked out about 2 hours ago, and we'd just left a nightclub.

He rang the number, and waited what seemed like 5 minutes before the phone was picked up at the other end.

"Oh good evening, I'm in a phone box on street, and I've just seen a notice about the bike for sale"

..pause whilst the voice at the other end tells him the bike has gone and remonstrates with him for the lateness of the hour..

"Oh, I see.....
.... when will it be back?"
(Vic Flange, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 16:05, 1 reply)

I was driving with my kids to Myrtle Beach one spring.
As we were going along I-95, we were passing a truck that had a bumper sticker on it that said "SHOW ME YOUR TITS!"

So I dared my (at the time) rather pudgy fourteen year old son to do it.

I sometimes wonder if the trucker realized that it was a boy, or if he then went on to wank off to the memory...
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 1 Nov 2007, 16:04, 3 replies)

the old wooden spoon on the head dare
for some reason that is fairly inexplicable, when the alcohol has been flowing freely and a certain group of my friends get together (I believe it has to be exactly the right mixture or this doesn't happen) someone, somehow gets hold of a wooden spoon.

This is then used to smash each other on the head with.

Sometimes standing still, sometimes leaping from chairs/steps etc. to deliver the blow.

Many a morning (well at least 2) I have awoken thinking "hmm, how did I get this bruise on my head," only to have a flashback to a friend jumping through the air, spoon held tight in both hands, barbarian style, teeth-gritted in determination, ready to brain me.

I can assure you all that those strange spoons with a hole in the middle are by far the worst type of wooden spoon to be hit with.
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 16:03, 1 reply)

Barmans revenge
Contents:

Double Baileys
Double JD
Double Blackcurrent

Results:

Much puking, zero hilarity (if you drink it that is!)


You have been warned....
(Xyphious : Sinkin' Gin since '85, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 16:01, 1 reply)

Cucumber
My friend Tim HATES cucumber, he really does. So he was understandably reluctant to eat a big bite of it, even when he DARED him.

It was only when I agreed to eat some raw spring onion that he did it - and puked slightly into his own mouth.

"Go on!!" he eventually said, gleefully; "eat the spring onion!!!".

So I did. My secret? I LIKE SPRING ONION!!

And aint dat da troof.
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 15:57, Reply)