Drinking games
One of my friends recently committed the heinous crime of drinking with his right hand for pleasure, and was therefore instructed to:

1/ Strip
2/ Cover themselves in tomato sauce
3/ Go next door, knock, and when someone answers ask 'Did you order a hot dog?'

Apparently they didn't.
(Merrep, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 9:47, Reply)

oh god
same job, same people...

one night we were all hammered and out for a staff meal. one girl was dared to rip her top off and press her naked tits against the plate glass window of the restaurant.

which she did. the other diners were pretty happy about it.

she then dared the next girl to play the piano with her bare bum.

which she did. the owners of the restaurant were pretty UNhappy about it.

then... then she dared the remaining girls to go back to the office and photocopy their tits. so about 5 of us trooped back there and spent about an hour trying to achieve this. one girl also did her arse.

this in itself would have been ok. surreal, to be topless in your suit with all your colleagues, but quite amusing nonetheless. the problem was that this was an residential property management agency and we had 5 workmen - plumbers, joiners etc. we were then dared to leave the photocopies in their jobsheet trays with a jobsheet asking them to identify the tits.

this seemed hilarious at the time so i did.

waking up at 10am and realising that (i) i should have been at work an hour ago; (ii) someone had set fire to the inside of my head; and (iii) fuck fuck we had all left shots of our tits for the workmen.... that was NOT FUN! well, maybe for the workmen.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 9:32, 24 replies)

kind of daring - I shaved my beard off....
now I'm sad

I did raise a load of money for charity though, so not all bad.

feeling the air flow around one's chin for the first time in almost 3 years is very very strange.

also, my boss told me I look like a little boy :-/
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 9:31, 4 replies)

more of a forfeit than a dare
but i once went to an ann summers party at my then boss' house. normally i am pretty good at filthy games, but concentration lapsed and i lost one. (i think i failed to say "i really love to suck fat hard cocks" with 20 flumps in my mouth but without laughing and choking. it's harder than it looks. the game, not the cocks.)

as the girls here will know and the boys (probably) won't, the forfeits are all written on little cards. my friend had just lost the previous game and had to belt out "like a virgin". how hard can it be, i thought?

the right question was "how naive can i be?" i chose the Wrong forfeit card.

as well as all the sample sex toys, the ann summers rep brings a shit load of underwear. i had to get changed into one of the corsets, with a very skimpy negligee on top. DD is not a sample size. it was like trying to cram 2 jellies into a yoghurt pot.

i was then made to walk next door, vibe in hand, and ask to "borrow some batteries". it's a good job i was absolutely hammered. it's also a damn good job that they were out!!

still, could have been worse. two of my colleagues had to dress up in two of the outfits - a nurse and a french maid - and one had to chase the other down the full length of the street with a whip yelling "how could you, you bitch, you knew he was mine".

it's surprisingly difficult to take instructions from your boss seriously when you know what kind of vibrator she ordered... it's even worse a few days later when the battery fun arrives, you all troop round to collect your parcel... and her 2 year old really really thinks they are christmas presents and is shrieking to be allowed to open them...
( rachelswipe with a fork, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 9:26, 5 replies)

Go on son, down in one :D
Heard this facade from a local rugby team (might have posted this b4, hopefully not).

One of the larger players from the squad was always full of himself. He'd constantly put the other players down at functions and look at any oppertunity to proove he was more "man" than anyone else. One way he did this was to do the bottle trick.

All this consisted of was him literally shouting "Watch this guys!" and backing an entire bottle of Newkey Brown within about 2/3 seconds. The first few times seemed a small bit impressive, but the lads soon tired of his antics. So they constructed a plan.

After one training session, they waited for the smug one to leave then pulled out a bucket from the corner and took turns to shit and piss into it. Once it was brimming, they took it to a local glass blower (who was one of the player's brother incidentally) and gave him the bucket, a bottle of Newkey Brown and a funnel. He carefully made an incision in the base, emptied the bottle then filled it with the mess from the bucket. A quick bit of filler was applied, and the Pukey Brown was born.

The next function night the team all decide to hit their normal club as per and smug is acting up again. So they smuggle the bottle in and the bet is on.

"Bet you can't do your bottle trick again, you useless shit."
"Yes I can, give me a bottle!" bellows he, much to the delight of the other players.
One of the players brings the Pukey Brown up to him, handing it to him then aptly standing well back.

He takes a deep breathe then sticks his head straight up and downs it. About halfway through he suddenly gags, then aptly drops the bottle and pukes over half the bar, covering it in a thin layer of shit and filth. The stentch was apparently the worst though, which forced the bar to temporarily close while this muck was cleaned up.

He doesn't do the trick anymore.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 9:11, 2 replies)

Regrets I Have A Few
I live with the train of thought that it is better to regret something you have done than regret something you didn't do.

Way back in the hazy days of 2001 X-games were the thing round my neck of the woods Bmx's, skateboards, rollerblades were all considered good ideas and ways of passing time.

Now I was quite good on the old rollerblades and got to a stage where jumping wasn't really a problem and even the odd grind was do-able but it turns out the next level was a hell of a further away than I thought.

The school was our favourite spot to skate it had benches to grind, low walls to jump and a rather large set of steps that nobody had ever braved. (guess where this is going)

One day I was spouting about how I was bored of the same old spots and needed a new challenge something bigger and better.

"Why not jump the steps then?" Someone offered

Full of bravdo I excepted this dare/challenge and hurtled myself towards them, took flight and even managed a cheeky heel grab midflight.

I clearded the set it was the landing that was the problem I landed rather heavy and while my body was pointing one way my left leg wasn't it was a bent the wrong way and rather floppy.

All I really remember was being curled up in a ball screaming and spewing at the same time.

Pity it was in the days before youtube really I would have been a hit.
(Barry Chuckle has gone out in the thong to feed the pigeons, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 8:57, 2 replies)

I dare you
to click 'i like this'. Otherwise you're a girl.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 8:44, 12 replies)

Surfing of sorts
Picturesque autumn evenings are fantastic for having huge bonfires in my mates back garden. Plenty of beer is consumed and much fun is had by all.

When people get drunk, silly thing happen with fire. The mate in questions land is rather big and he owns a tractor, thus owning a diesel tank. Filling 2 litre bottles with diesel and pouring on a fire to make the biggest mushroom cloud possible is always a giggle.

The dare consisted of something a little different though. We were burning the remains of an old house, seeing as his folks clear houses and redo them. Chairs, couches etc were broken up. I was dared to break a chair up and throw it on the fire and "surf" the chair for as long as possible.

Not being one to back out I of course went ahead, broke the bottom of the chair out, threw it on and started riding the "wave."

Wasn't till my shoes were black and my trousers caught fire that I decided this was a bad idea apparently...

Oh well, you're only 18 once. 3 years have passed and I can guarantee this will happen again next time we have a bonfire...

Look no length joke! Hows that for originality!
(knifeh and Mrs Knifeh discovered radioactive bacon!, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 8:19, 1 reply)

I knew this fellow once
in El Paso. One day, I dared him to take off all his clothes and jump in a mess of cactus. And he did, I asked him "why?". He said "It seemed like a good idea at the time".

Obscure movie quote shoe-horning. Yay.
(LickOutTheJamsMotherfuckers!, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 7:57, Reply)

I was promised 20 Mars Bars
...for pinging a co-worker's bra strap from behind while she was on the till, serving a customer.

They turned out to be fun size (the Mars Bars, not the co-worker's jugs). But hey, it was easy enough.
(rogerzilla, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 6:33, 1 reply)

ARGH
I *would* post an answer, but cannot think. I can't seem to get

This

out of my head. The music... entrancing...

So um, mutated monty, ARGH. damn you.
(mmmm curry doesn't really understand this sig lark, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 4:09, Reply)

Three Nines
Way back in the days of childhood, when everything seemed brighter, lighter and more fun (or at least that's what I'll be telling myself when I'm old and grey), a young Calamarain was in his first year of secondary school at the tender age of eleven.

Now, being a weirdo and a geek (still am), he was desperate to fit in. He wanted to be one of the cool kids, and be in the 'in crowd'. Now, as it happened, he overheard two of the older kids daring each other to do various things. They varied from the straightforwardly carried out (eat three packets of the canteen's salt), to the stuff that would get you instantly expelled (To tell the well-liked headmaster to go and f**k himself).

They went back and forth for a while, and one of them dared the other to call 999 for a laugh. This was not carried out, and they carried on daring back and forth. But young Calamarain had heard this, and thought he had a way to get into the popular crowd! He would go up to them the next day, and tell them he'd carried out their dare.

And so he went up to the payphone at the side of the canteen, dialed 999 (the UK emergency services number for those of you in another country), waited to hear something then put the phone down instantly. Other things then distracted our hero and he thought no more of it.

Until the next day. The day began with the form teacher's lecture, whose words can still be recalled today;

"You can waste my time, you can waste each other's time, but don't you dare waste their time"

bringing much guilt with them. The sort of guilt you only get when you hear a parent tell you they're not angry, just disappointed. Our hero remained silent, but felt awful, for it was a speech worthy of this

This was followed by an assembly later in the day, lecturing the entire school on what the emergency services did, and how they'd had to waste time calling the school back to check there wasn't a real emergency. Tell them quite bluntly that someone could have died because of the time lost. The culprit had until the end of the day to own up, or things would go much worse. As our hero's parents had both worked in the emergency services at some point, the guilt was currently way past 'let down everyone', and onto 'I've killed someone!'

The further lecture from the form teacher in the afternoon would have forced a painful confession... had young Calamarain not overheard the same two older boys as yesterday arguing, each accusing the other of having dialed 999. Both red-faced and threatening to tell the teachers that the other had done it, before eventually agreeing to keep silent, and both hoping out loud that the teachers couldn't possibly know and were bluffing.

Thus, silence reigned. Our hero felt awful, but kept his mouth shut, hoping against hope. And of course, they were bluffing.

But young Calamarain still felt like crap for the next week. And quite rightly so - you do not waste their time, it's more valuable than yours. And he never admitted it to anyone until this day, fourteen years later.

Apologies for length.
(calamarain just invented dehydrated water, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 2:28, 3 replies)

Crappiest dare ever.
At my one and only girly student party before I spent all my student loan on beer and dropped out we had a game of truth or dare.

After discussing the biggest cocks we'd seen I came up with the stupid idea of daring an extremely drunk girl to stuff a balloon up her top and go to the house across the road to ask for an egg.

A middle aged Indian man answered the door and didn't even seem confused a pissed bird with an inflated top was slurring and demanding an egg. He politely went back into the house and got her one. In the meantime I'd fallen down the stairs and buggered up my ankle. Good times.
(chakaflange, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 1:53, Reply)

Jump!
On my 21st birthday, midnight, I came of age working in a nightclub cloakroom. Seriously.

It turned midnight, in a sweaty cupboard from hell, and I realised that my calling in life might not be answering to wankers who were too pissed to remember which pocket the raffle ticket was in - as was the proof of handing in their shitty garments - so I should celebrate in style.

I made a plan to get very, very pissed the second I left work. Which I embarked upon, at 3am in the morning, when my shift had finished and the club owner had very generously helped me on my way to oblivion.

I promptly took the fittest girl working in the club to a friend's house to celebrate, and we got very merry.

And then came the dare.

"You can play any track from my CD collection, if you jump out of the window."

Not wanting to let the young lady I was trying to impress unsatisfied, I hastily made a selection, and then, in a haze of vodka, beer and whiskey, threw myself... fortunately feet first... out of the window. Which was 14ft from the pavement.

I landed. On my feet. And broke three toes. But not very well, as I tumbled over and broke my wrist. And then the fun began.

Not wanting to admit my injuries, I winced through the rest of the night, getting drunker still to try and distract myself from the excrutiating pain of injuries. I told no-one how much it hurt.

THREE DAYS LATER - it had been my 21st birthday celebrations after all - I went to hospital. On my own, not wanting to admit how badly I'd fucked myself, upon which the horrified nurses plastered my knackered arm and ordered me to go home. A friend had recently broken his arm, and suggested I wiggle my fingers as the cast had set in order for it to not be too uncomfortable in the next few weeks.

I obviously wiggled a bit too much. Arrived at a nightclub that night, managed to pull the cast full off, and danced in pain for the rest of the night.

Years later, my wrist still hurts. A lot.

And the absolute crying shame of it all? My friend who dared me in the first place had a woefully poor collection of CDs. I picked "It's Alright" by Supergrass. Didn't get get back in the flat in time to hear any of the track, and never saw the girl again.

Length? 14ft. It's my first post. Give me a break!
(Sloppy Giuseppe, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 1:28, 1 reply)

Chilli sauce
I downed half a bottle of it.

The trick is to keep smiling complacently, even when its stinging like an absolute bastard.
(ladyintheradiator, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 0:56, Reply)

Drinking
I once had a drinking competition.

...

With myself.

I don't remember much, but suffice to say i won and the bottle of Stolichnaya lost.
(Schumann makes awesome quiches., Fri 2 Nov 2007, 0:20, 1 reply)

Roll Up, Roll Up
www.b3ta.com/links/What_ho_chaps

Seems like B3ta is up for an award. So I've dared Rob to eat his hat and stick the video on YouTube if B3ta wins an award.

So do the decent thing people and vote vote vote...


Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 0:19, Reply)

Yoghurt
Whilst at the Ming Academy of Excellence that passed for my secondary school, I had a buddy called Laity. He was a funny lad that was always up for a chuckle.

Anyway, one lunchtime, sat around the octagonal tables, we bet him he couldnt eat 4 Hazlenut Yoghurts.

After 45 minutes he had eaten 12 and was just about to start the 13th, when he projectile vomitted over the table, himself and pretty much anything else you could spray spew on.

We had given him terrible bacterial gastro. He was off school for 4 weeks and came back looking like an inmate of Belsing.

Fear rotten milk, it bites.
( Beejay Proper old bastard, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 0:18, Reply)

Shit Eating
My mate Luke was once sitting at home with a friend. He said "I dare you to eat a piece of my shit" The friend agreed to do it for the sum of twenty quid. Luke went and took a shit on a plate and the guy ate a piece winning his £20. Luke not wanting to lose his money said "I bet you 20 quid I can finish it"

He did.

Result.... Both of them ate shit and got nothing for it.
( Peej, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 0:16, 5 replies)

Blood Sugar Sex Magik
Last year, on my birthday (Nov 28th in case anyone wants to get me a gift) I had recently started a new job, so me and the rest of the training class head out after work for a good old-fashioned piss-up.

We start with the obligatory meal to line our stomachs, then get into the heavy drinking. After staggering through a good few pubs, we end up in Revolution, a vodka bar that offers plenty of cocktails and masses of flavoured vodka shots. Seeing as it's my birthday, everyone chips in to get me 6 flavoured shots. Kind of them, you might think...

Ian, who's a bit of a twat, offers to go up. He returns with 6 shots, 1 of them pink and the rest a strange red colour.

"Here we are mate. The pink one's birthday cake flavoured. You should save that for last."

"Cheers mate, very kind of you" I say, like the trusting mong I am. "What's in the others?"

"Oh, a good mixture" he says with a sly grin. "Bet you can't down them all one after the other, no pausing."

"Fair enough" says I. Having had a good few drinks already, I fail to see anything wrong with this - full of bravado, I line up the shots, square my shoulders, and down the first one.

Sweet zombie Jesus! It feels like I've just swallowed a shot of napalm! My mouth is on fire! My tongue feels like it's been soaked in gasoline. However, I've still got 5 shots left, and my drunken bravado refuses to let me stop.

I down the second. Holy goat-fucking Christ! It's even hotter than the first. It's like swallowing demon piss! My eyes are beginning to water, but I soldier on.

Down goes the third. I'm afraid to breathe out, in case I set fire to the table. My teeth feel like they're going to melt. I still refuse to be beaten, and reach for the fourth.

Christ on a fucking bike, it's painful. My vision blurs, and I can't stop myself from emitting a low, gutteral cry of pain. But I've got 1 more to go, then it's the birthday cake flavour. I can't stop now.

I force myself to pick up the fifth shot, and, eyes closed, down it. At this point, my taste-buds have had enough and went into hiding, so it doesn't taste quite as bad. But I'm suffering. My 'kind' workmates are pissing themselves by now. Cunts.

I gratefully grab the last shot and throw it down the hatch. It tastes of spicy red-hot birthday cake, the kind of cake they would serve in hell. My mouth still feels like a raging inferno.

I desperately grab my pint and drink like a thirsty camel. My fuckers of workmates manage to stop laughing long enough to give me an enthusiastic round of applause.

It turns out Ian had ordered 5 shots of 'Red Hot Chili' flavoured vodka. Once my mouth had cooled down enough to enable speech, he showed me the drinks menu. There was the full list of shots, and there, beside the Chili shot, a skull and fucking crossbones. I shit you not.

My Sisyphean task complete, I felt like I had pushed the boulder to the top of the mountain. I was invincible. I was also incredibly drunk.

I can't remember anything from that point on, though I've been told I spent the rest of the night hitting on the only two girls in our training class - one of whom was married, and the other was a strict muslim. Strangely enough, I didn't pull that night...
(Pavlov's Frog figures no-one really reads sigs anyway, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 0:13, 1 reply)

sausages
I bet myself I could not eat a whole box of 35 cocktail sausages just now.

Turns out, I could.

They were delicious. I feel sick. Bugger.
(Samara Morgan is a small blue thing, like a marble or an eye, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 0:05, Reply)

I have a dare for you....
....tomorrow night, instead of doing something enjoyable, I dare you to stay in and tune into ITV2 at 9pm for.....

....Katie & Peter: Unleashed. Celebrity couple Peter Andre and Katie Price host their own chat show, promising star guests, music and audience participation, as well as behind-the-scenes footage.

Apparently tomorrow evenings guest is Craig David. Enjoy!
( abefroman skating on the thin life of modern life on, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 23:59, 6 replies)

Persil
37.5p in a Scottish chop back in the mid 70s wasn;t much more than it is nowerdays. The price of a pineapple fritter supper actually. and that is what I ate - covered in a 10p catering pack of Persil powder.

I managed it, got my replacement 37.5p, walked round the corner and puked my guts up to the point of which I could mop the mess up with my inside out intestines.

And this is the truth, and I shit you not, bubbles every time I pulled the chain for the next 3 days.

Clean kazie though!
(beaverwastemanagement a real company. I want to work for them!, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 23:57, Reply)

Just plain daft
A few years ago I played football for a local Sunday league team. There were some good players on the team but they seemed more concerned about pissing about in the pub either the night before the match or the Sunday afternoon/evening after it. A couple of the lads on the team were in their early to mid twenties and would do anything for a dare.

One Friday evening we all meet in the usual pub, which was actually our club sponsor too, and one of the lads is chewing some gum. After a while he puts in the ashtray then some daring goes on and another of the guys takes the chewing gum and starts chewing it. This gum got passed around for the next 4 hours or so. By the end of the night it was black on account of the amount of times it had been on the floor and in various ashtrays. Needless to say I didn't have a turn.

Another Friday evening in the pub and someone has bought themselves a heavy duty stapler and a nice big packet of staples, but has gone home and left it under a table. One of the team looks in the bag and grins. You know the way staples are packaged together? I don't know what you'd call it, let's call it a line of staples for arguments sake. Well for a tenner he ate a line of staples, one by one.

There were many other incidents of biting lumps off of pint glasses and chewing them. One of the lads washed it down with a spray from a bottle of cleaner that one of the barmaids had left on the table while wiping it down.
I honestly don't know how any of them are still alive. I never got involved in the stupid behaviour, I just liked to laugh at them all.
(Plumstix has been spying on you since, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 23:50, Reply)

Mancs...
Is Charlie's still there? The curry house behind the hospital?

Well if it isn't here's what they used to do to stupid students. Charlie used to make a curry called a "Suicide". It was gross. No meat or veg in it, just a plate of violently hot sauce. And if you could finish one you were allowed to *buy* a t-shirt with "I survived a suicide" on it.

It was a great marketing ploy as the ownership of these shirts bestowed a certain macho-ness on you. I saw many people attempt it but only saw one won once.

Any curry-house owners would do well to copy this one.

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 23:42, 3 replies)