I went to a party once...
...with my mates R & L and we were discussing the merits of eating vs. snorting vs. smoking ecstasy (we were about 17 at the time and thought we were big and clever). So I dared the two of them to try shoving a pill up their arses.

Now R obliged but L was a little dubious and worried about the effects so he decided to insert just a half a pill into his bot-bot. These particular tablets were quite large and snapping one in half just produced a couple of very sharp corners.

The sight of my mate wincing and crying out as he pushed his jagged-pill-tipped finger into his anus will haunt me for ever....
( BlueHaze Chutney. All good., Fri 2 Nov 2007, 13:42, 4 replies)

I dared my mate to piss himself...
on the walk home after a night out.

He duly obliged. There was no wager involved and he said the heat was quite pleasurable, until the cold got to it.
( mike woz ere 7442200 & 7696970 getter, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 13:25, 1 reply)

How I went off her
She had gone back to England. We'd had a row about something, I forget forgetting, and I'd woken up doubled up in the double bed, naked and ashamed and retching and alone. All she left was an absence of shadows and an uneasy feeling which bred in the darkness behind my eyes.

I was in a mess, but I wasn't worried. I'd always known I'd fail. Time bored on.

A girl I knew told me she was in love with me. I laughed, and she told me again. I thought of how ugly I was, and how my brain was a globe of cold weather which made me shiver to think, and tried to explain. She
told me she loved me again. Turns out, I'd less shame than I thought I had.

Reader, I fucked her.

Kev laughed at her, but only softly and only behind her back. At first. She'd shiver before she swallowed the gin, but snarl afterwards. At him. I was devoted to Kev and not at all to her, and, looking back, I doubt I bothered to hide it.

We were on these drugs. S***** had gone to the chemist, claiming he couldn't sleep. It was a holiday, so I had spent uncountable hours with that feeling that my back was being sucked into the wall I was propped against. My kidneys felt furry. I could feel them fuse together in the small of my back; they were as bloated as me. Kev was passed out on the floor. Elgar was on the cassette deck, and outside, the stinking sun lounged on the terrace, smirking and scuffing itself on the dirt before it came in.

Gotta go piss, said S****** and stumbled on Kev. Kev did not stir. The dares escalated

You can guess the rest. As I heard the sounds, I got up and went to the window. The sun was still outside, but it's smile had faded, as if it were horrified by her. I put my hand on the French Door. Sweat from me made a perfect imprint of my hand. I watched it fade to a stain, and I wondered how long the stain would last for.
(sirolimus, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 13:17, 5 replies)

Outrageous
I was in the pub celebrating losing my job when Lenny suggested that the spirits we'd been drinking all night weren't working. Could've fooled me: I'd lost all motor functions and had pissed myself three times because I was unable to walk to the lavs. I was sitting there in a pool of my own urine but everyone was too drunk to notice.

So Lenny opens his backpack and brings out a selection of perfumes he stole from the street market. "Who wants Calvin Klein's 'Eternity'?" he roared, cracking off the top against the table edge and drinking it down in one go. A scent of cedarwood and lime filled our corner (smothering the reek of piss).

Gimme Naomi Campbell's 'Delicious' yelled Dan, and gulped down a throatful of delicate ylang ylang and citrus highnotes. Not to be outdone, I snatched a bottle of David Beckham's 'Shooter' and hammered it. My nasal passages were filled with a musky yet masculine scent.

By now we were fuckin' well off our tits. The Beckham scent had me rocking back and forth like a hasidic Jew on acid and Lenny was snorting salt of his McCoys mature cheddar. I found myself lying in my own piss and weeping like a little girl.

"Dare you to fuck the barmaid up the dirt chute whle she's serving that off-duty copper a pint!" yelled Dan from the floor, where he was evacuating from every orifice.

"Done!" I growled. I staggered to my feet, a vision in piss and cologne, and walked zombie-like to the bar. I lifted up the swingy thing, walked up to the barmaid and started to unzip my trousers. Despite my inebriated state, my tool was as hard as Cleopatra's needle and I started to wave it about.

Enraged by my swollen weapon, the barmaid put down the pint she was pulling and dropped to her knees to swallow my cock. I couldn't beleive it! Right there in front of the whole bar, she sucked, groaned and tongued my throbbing helmet as I tilted my head back and emptied a bottle of vodka from an optic into my eyeball. Just as my orgasm gushed forth into her hot throat, I cracked open two bottles of WKD blue and chugged them both.

At least that's how I remember it. In truth, I woke up in a psychiatric ward three days later smelling of piss and David Beckham. Don't drink perfume, kids. It's bad.
(frankspencer, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 13:17, 11 replies)

out with friends
i was standing by the edge of the dancefloor in my local seedy pulling pit with my mates sharon and michelle, already half cut. i was trying to get them to dance but, both of them being pregnant, they refused. i started wiggling about on the spot, flapping the skirt of my (rather short) dress up and down as i did so.
"why don't you just take the soddig dress off and have done with it?" says sharon.
i refused.
"go on, i dare you to take your dress off" says sharon.
well, as i said, i was already half pissed by this point so i thinks "feck it, i'll do it!"
so i did.
i ran 3 laps of the dancefloor wearing a black basque, fishnets and suspenders, before putting my dress back on.
result? drinks bought for me for the next six weeks, many male phone numbers and a good old-fashioned shag with a bouncer.
win-win, i'd call it.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 13:07, 2 replies)

My Uncle Steve
My Uncle Steve, God rest his soul, was born and raised in Iowa. A true American farm boy. He was a BIG fan of Budweiser and would do just about anything for a beer...

One such instance involved him accepting a dare to ride over a hydro-electric dam holding onto a log. The scary part is, the week before this dare, someone else had tried it and drowned.

Not Stevie though! His friend said "I bet you a case o' beer that you wont go over that dam right now!" Stevie was a man of little words, but big on action...he sprinted down to the edge of the river and found a tree limb that had fallen...picked it up and took the plunge.

He emerged on the other side after a bit of a struggle, waded ashore and held his arm extended, finger pointing at the darer and said "Go get my goddamned beer!"

I miss you Steve.
( Citadel Because the world needs less morons, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 12:59, 3 replies)

Dared to Drink too much last Weekend in Prague
This pretty sums up the weekend

Airport at 5 - 5 pints
Flew at 7.45pm friday night - bottle of champers, 4 stella, and a vodka in 1h 55 on the plane
got to the hotel at ten to 11
was in prague main square for 11
ended up in some bar off my face.
got in at 4.30am satdy morning - ming
was up at 11.30 went to the river and the main square, went to a few shops and was back in the ale house for 2.30
died about 8 - got up at 11 - went back out
got in at 5am
flew at 3 -
eating chinese by 7
winner

However....

When in the bar on the Friday, I was under the influence and was forced to indulge in different concoctions

About 2am all of a sudden I had a sudden urge that I had to drop my guts, the pain appeared in seconds and I couldnt hold myself. So i ran down the stairs into the 1st door on the left (thinking it was the lads)

Fuck me sideways it was the birds bogs. Anyway I digress, I got my pants down and my guts emptied, with what I can only describe as DEATH. A pure brown Angel Delight mixture, no lumps, just pure shitty smoothness come out of my 70's tea towel holder.

I then noticed the door had no lock, so imagine me, half hanging over the bog, and some bird trying to get in, with me hanging on left handed to the door shouting in a high pitched voice (trying to pretend im a bird) "One second hun" "out in a sec"

The fucking door is now banging open and shut like a fucking poltergeist has hold of it, so I wipe my arse one handed pull up my pants and press the flusher.

PANICCCCCCCCCCCCCCC

The fucking thing wouldnt flush, it was broke, ive got a pile of shit that smells like horror and enough to make a fucking dining room table for a hamster if you microwaved it, and half of Pragues tarts trying to get in.

THEN IT HAPPENS.

The door flies open and im stood there faced with a fucking room full of girls. What does Hoogs do?

1) Walk out not giving a fuck cos he's arseholed.

2) Apologise and walk away.

Nope

I stood there and in the most campest fucking voice and dramatics went....

"OH MY GOD - JUST DONT COME IN HERE - SOMEONE HAS BEEN SICK EVERYWHERE"

Then legged it up the stairs at light speed, grabbed Mrs Hoogs and went to the other end of the bar.

Prague is fucking ace.
(hoogie Original Cunt Horse Author, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 12:55, Reply)

and another
Many moons ago whilst working in Sheffield City center we happened to have some water ballons which found their way to be filled up as the boss was away and the mice, they did play.

We were daring each other to throw them out of the window at passing people on the street below, nobody had the bottle... until Steve got involved and threw one at a bunch of handy looking lads.

The balloon burst at their feet, giving them a little bit of a shock, they then turned and spotted us and legged it up the stairs to our office.

Cue our gang shitting themselves like little girls... We just locked the door and when they came banging and looking through the window we simply looked up in surprise, and they left.

Length? Across the street from three stories up.
(SillyMoo, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 12:54, Reply)

When I was a Jobcentre monkey...
I spent 3 years daring my entire caseload of clients to try working for a living...

Failed miserably in about 95% of all cases.

Stupid? I'll say. Then again, I was saddled with some of the most abject pieces of human excrement. Child molesters, murderers, violent alcoholics, and one bloke who I swear would deliberately shit himself before coming in for his fortnightly interviews and then sit there grinding his sweaty buttocks into the chair so that the smell would linger for hours afterwards. Ended up having to throw it out because it stained quite badly...
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Fri 2 Nov 2007, 12:49, Reply)

of stupid dares...
Whilst Living in Liverpool we did some silly things whilst drunk.

1) Came back from a night on the lash and dared each other to eat Dave's lizards pet food which it didnt seem interested in. Live locusts. They taste like luettice, didnt like the legs too much. This was all well and good until Dave decided he was going to eat some of his pet snakes food. Frozen baby mice... We had to stop him there as I'm sure that wouldnt do him any good whatsoever.

2) Dared Dave to answer the door to the pizza delivery guy in only his boxers with his snake wrapped around his neck, which he dutifuly did. The pizza guy ran off screaming... somebody turned up a half hour later to get the money. Never laughed so much... really funny stuff.

No money ever changed hands... hmmmm
(SillyMoo, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 12:47, Reply)

And whilst I'm there
Another drunken evening, another stroll home, eating some dog in a pitta on the way. We pass a swanky Italian restaurant, all glass fronted, full of people looking out the window at the drunken rabble.

"What the fuck are they all looking at" says a mate of mine, "Dunno", says another mate, "give them something to look at ####, show them your cock".
"I can do better than that", he says, "Here, hold my 'bab"

He pulled his trousers down turned arse to window and laid a humungous turd right there on the street.

I have honestly never seen so many people, knife and fork in hand, open mouthed and frozen in time with a omfg look on their faces.

Length? Not kidding it was like a donkey had laid it.
(RickGrimes Quite frankly, disappointed on, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 12:40, 1 reply)

A Takeaway
Whilst in studentsville, we were coming back from a pub one night when we dared a mate to go into an Indian takeaway and ask for something obscene - what I don't, but irrelevant. Anyway, he goes in, we see him say something to the guy behind the counter who looks shocked and starts to head towards my mate. He turns round, legs it....... straight through the window of the takeaway from the inside out. 1/2 mile of legging it later and a trip to casualty for cuts, he still couldn't remember what he'd asked for.
(RickGrimes Quite frankly, disappointed on, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 12:35, Reply)

Unfortunately not biscuits
I still can't believe I did this for a dare. No money changed hands, although the kudos I've received over the years has been impressive.

The scene: Union bar in Manchester. End of year.
We'd had a few drinks.

My "mate" returns from one of his many bar trips to announce that he'd arranged a challenge for me. To this day I have no idea how he managed to convince a complete strangler to race me in consuming a shot of bourbon...
Through a straw...
Without using our mouths...

Even in my state of advanced inebriation, I was unconvinced by this suicidal race. His mates and my "friends" unsurprisingly were more enthusiastic. I remember expressing myself fairly graphically at the time but once the spirits were placed in front the fog descended and it became Death or Glory. (incidentally, there were no straws available behind the bar and some research was conducted into alternatives - believe me, nothing at all works very well).

Well it's not easy drinking through your nose. It requires inhaling deeply through the nose, waiting for it to touch the back of your throat before swallowing.
Add to this difficulty the searing pain of snorting alcohol. Every action is agony. My nose burned like flaming coal was being skull-fcuked up there. My right eye felt like it was going to explode. Bizarrely, my left arm went completely numb.
And to top it all, I hate bourbon (although this came fairly low down on my list of problems).

Halfway through and I was struggling. Looking up I good see a mirror of my own pain in his face: The race was still on and I could feel my second wind coming.
Various liquids had built up in my right nostril making progress difficult. In error I decided to continue with the left which was a mistake as now I couldn't see through either eye, and both arms were in trouble.

Eventually a winner emerged: It wasn't me. John my "mate" was in tears of laughter and the victor stood triumphant (if a little unsteadily) among his admiring groupies. I headed to the toilet to try and quell the pain with a little cold water. (Even harder than it sounds).

A week later and I still couldn't smell or see properly, although feeling had returned to my faulty limbs.

And what did I get out of it? Shouldn't really grumble about getting a free shot I suppose, and I did gain the experience to know that I would rather have the biscuits rammed up my nose.

Epilogue
I never thought I'd meet another imbecile stupid enough to attempt this, but I was wrong!
A few years ago I went to a party where the conversation moved towards stupid things we'd being dared to do. Obviously the bourbon incident came up and I asked him what he'd used to inhale the whisky (re: the difficultly in finding straws at bars), to which the answer came back: "I just put the bottle-top close to my nose and inhaled". Bottle-top? "Wimp". Still, much respect has gained all round.

Length? I have no idea, 'though the effects lasted a week.
(markthebrewer doesn't know if he's coming or going or coming, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 12:23, 1 reply)

Chilli sauce from hell
A few years ago I was give a bottle of Dave's Insanity Sauce. For those of you who've never had it: it's hot. I like spicy food but one drop of this in a bowl of soup renders it almost inedible, it's ridiculous.

So, one day at work, my colleague Mo mentioned spicy food (Mo's already starred in a previous qotw answer).

I mentioned the Insanity Sauce, Mo sugested it probably wasn't as hot as I was making out, so I dared him to eat some on a rice cracker the next day, when I brought it in to work.

So the following day, I wandered over to Mo's desk, presented him with the sauce, whereupon he assumed I was playing a nasty trick on him and it would be horrible. To prove it was edible I had a tiny drop on a cracker first, which was decidedly unpleasant.

Seeing this, Mo did the same, and exclaimed "Oh, it's not that hot, it's no worse than a vindaloo!".

He then proceeded to liberally douse another cracker with mucho sauce, and eat it. I was (secretly) gutted that he wasn't impressed, congratulated him and sat back down.

A couple of minutes passed, and then another colleague, Amy, who hadn't seen the cracker episode came into the office and asked "Why is Mo out crying by the water cooler?"
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 12:23, 6 replies)

The adventures of Little Blue_in_Exile
This story happened in the mid eighties when Blue was a lot littler than he is now. Littler and a lot more daring…

Little Blue was the proud owner of a Raleigh Boxer and regularly went on bike rides all around the housing estate he lived on at the time. Now during the period of this little escapade, a new phase of the estate was being built to cater to an ever increasing housing need. This meant lots of new play areas for a young adventurer to explore: lots of half built houses to hide in, building materials to play with and lots of beer bottles left by the builders to smash. What more could a young scamp ask for.

Well, on the day in question, Blue was riding his bike with a couple of “big boys” and they hatched a plan: they would borrow some bricks and a plank of wood and set up a ramp they could jump their bikes off. Now Blue wasn’t too sure about this, but the big boys said that it would be fun!!

Now little Blue enjoyed having fun, so he agreed… The three little rascals, using ninja skills, crept into the building site and set about assembling their daredevil stunt.
In a matter of minutes, the wood and bricks were found and the ramp was assembled. From Blues eyes the ramp looked 100 metres high and he was a little bit scared. The big boys just laughed and rode off to get their run up. The first big boy went and managed to land with a big grin on his face. The second big boy followed shortly after and did the same.
Little Blue was more than a little worried by this point. His shiny Raleigh Boxer and he had been through a lot and he didn’t want to damage it. He was all but ready to go home for some well earned lunch without jumping the ramp when the words that will forever ring in his mind were shouted: “I dare you!”

Now, never one to back down from a dare, Blue had to do it. He wheeled his bike to the end of the road to give him enough of a run up to clear the jump. Got on his trusty bike and got ready to be the daredevil everyone knew him to be. He pedalled faster and faster, with the wind rushing past his ears. As the ramp got closer and closer a little voice in the back of little Blue’s head started to be heard: “You’re not going to clear it. Stop before it’s too late!” Little Blue tried to ignore the voice and got closer and closer to the ramp. The voice got louder and louder.

The front wheel of the Boxer hit the front of the ramp. But by this time the voice became deafening.

Little Blue being slightly less aware of Newton’s Second Law of Motion and momentum applied his brakes slightly too late. So late in fact that the front wheel of the Boxer was already sitting in mid air. The rapid drop in speed, however, did mean that this wheel headed towards the earth rather more quickly than was intended. The front wheel hit the ground, eventually, causing Little Blue to momentarily become airborne sans bike.

Forever the optimist, Little Blue started praying for a soft landing. However this was not to be: the beer bottles the young rapscallion enjoyed breaking so much came back to haunt him…

A pile of broken glass that had been created on a previous occasion loomed large in Little Blue’s vision. It was getting much more than comfortably close: the word “faceplant” still haunts Blue’s dreams.

As he picked himself up, Little Blue noticed something was amiss: a warm red liquid was pouring out of most of the side of his face that had met the pavement and glass first. This wouldn’t do! Little Blue knew just what to do: howl like a baby and go home to mummy Blue, she’d be able to make it all better.

He picked up his trusty, no longer quite so shiny, bike and started limping towards home. While he was heading home, something missing became apparent: there seemed to be a bit more space in his mouth than barely 30 minutes earlier. This was the last straw; not only was blood pouring out of his head, but he was now missing a tooth that was worth money to a young chap like him. The going rate from the Tooth Fairy was enough to buy loads of goodies and sweeties.

Bawling his eyes out, Little Blue stumbled up to the front door of his house. Mummy Blue heard his cries and rapidly took things in hand. Plenty of warm water, soothing words and the removal of another, very wobbly tooth later, things started to be right with the world again.

The big boys turned up later on, after mummy Blue had cleaned up most of the battle wounds, missing tooth in hand. Hurrah, not a total loss after all: a little more money could be made from the Tooth Fairy thought Little Blue.
A great sense of timing had always been one of Little Blues gifts: the stunt just so happened to be the week before the dreaded class photo. Strangely enough Mummy Blue decided that she didn’t need a copy of that particular year’s classmates. It also happened to be the week before Blue’s first and as it turned out, last catalogue photo shoot for a local shopping chain. A modelling career finished before it ever began.

Afterwards, the Boxer was never the same: a bent set of handlebars meant that steering became a bit more difficult from that day onwards. So Little Blue started saving his pocket money for a mountain bike.

The only plus was the huge amounts of sweets that Little Blue was able to buy with the money from the tooth fairy. Once he was able to chew again…

To this day a small scar can still be seen to remind Little Blue of his daredevil past. And never did he agree to a dare from that day onwards.


I'm going to break with tradition and make no mention of length.
(Blue_in_Exile, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 12:19, 1 reply)

Truth or Dare
Never play this game when going around to friends for supper....

Some years back I went to a college friend's flat for supper with her and her boyfriend. I took my b/f who was good mates with hers....they were both in the army together - that alone should have told me to stay away from alcohol and games of truth or dare....

We eat a lovely meal, work our way through a few bottles of wine and then decide to play the game.

We start with some silly dares - I was blindfolded and Kathy (my college friend) fed me with a chocolate biscuit. Fine! I think, I can handle that.....The cow had covered it with Tabasco.

Then it's the guys' turns....my b/f takes Truth - the most embarrassing event of his life - his mother walking in on him and three mates having a wanking competition to a porn video....

Erm.....

Anyway, Kathy's b/f decides to take a dare - stripping down to his underpants, going next door (where a single woman in her 50s lived) and asking for pint of milk.

He accepts his challenge and while he's undressing Kathy takes a dare....

To apply toothpaste to her most intimate areas so she can have both that Ring of Confidence and that Minty Freshness!

So off she goes to the bathroom and her b/f gets undressed...
He had the largest most prominent nipples I've ever seen on a man - he could have hung towels on them! Then he pops next door. Despite his over large nipples, he was a very fit and good looking chap and was gone for the best part of an hour.....

Kathy was in the bathroom all the time he was gone.

The strangest thing was the noises we could hear while waiting for them both to return....

I'll never know if the moans were from pleasure or pain....

But Kathy apparently didn't have sex for a week afterwards and her b/f didn't mind in the slightest...but he did take up drinking milkshakes.....
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 12:04, 3 replies)

Escallating dares.
I was in Bristol to have a last night out with a totally legendary freind of mine who was finishing her year abroad and returning to Toronto a day or so later.
I'd actually been feeling so ill I had to be carried to the taxi, between the taxi and the club, and drink by having my glass lifted up for me and having the straw put in my mouth. I wasn't one to miss a good night out under any circumstances back then. Anyway, after a lot of glasses of double vodka with alcopop mixer consumed in this manner (it was the best alcohol to currency ratio that night and I was an impoverished student), I felt perfectly fine and ready for mischief.
Sadly, being a Thursday, the cheap student night we had been enjoying shut and we had to move in search of more fun. We found the only place open and, being about the only women in there, found a steady supply of drinks flowing our way although we did nothing to try and contrive this.
When it shuts the pair of us get chatting to a couple of lads who worked there. One of them dares us to pull each other. Fine, says ****, but only if you match everything we do. So we put on a decent performance and wait for their turn. They indeed match it. And decide it's our turn again, but we will have to do better. This time, we repeat but for about 2-3 minutes and being as gropey and excessive as possible without it being classed as more than pulling. When we finish one of the guys looks a little white and says "but you two are blatantly lesbians!" (the other one just looked secretly pleased at the thought of what he might have to do (at least I think it was by that)). "we aren't", quoth **** "and you can't welch on the dare". To the credit, they matched us again.
One of them then suggests the next step. "OK" we said. "but it's your turn to go first". After some initial shock and resistance, I think they were actually going to agree. But then the manager came and threw us all out so I'll never know........

(after they'd gone we ended up continuing where we left off, with the night ending with **** shouting down park street that I should come to Toronto so we would fuck like rabbits. I never did though.)
(Lotus Eater exposed herself on, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 12:02, 2 replies)

hairy legs
when i were a student, i was on a night out at the union whereupon i met a mate of mine. we drank lots. at some point during that night, i was bet £20 to shave my legs.

so next morning, i wakes up, remembers the bet, and still drunk from the day before, shaves 'em. hardly cut my legs at all, and it took fecking ages, too. but, eventually, i had smooth silky legs.

so i wander into the union to claim my bet, at which point i realise that i had no idea who i'd made the bet with. at all. i'd shaved my legs for no gain whatsoever. and because i was asking people 'was it you that bet me i wouldn't shave my legs last night?' now everyone knew i'd shaved my legs.

there was an unintended pay-off, though - it appears that women were very curious about my shaved legs. so curious, in fact, i kept shaving them for several years. i only stopped because a long-term girlfriend (now my wife) complained about the stubble, and when i let the hair grow back she seemed to like that even more...

so i guess it wasn't so much a stupid dare as a stupid person doing a dare in my case. oh, well.
(blades is looking for a brain, any brain, at, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 12:02, Reply)

The man in black.
A long time ago in a place far far away (halls kitchen in Uni) I was challenged to drink a whole Tabasco (not the currently flooded Mexican state - that would have been ridiculous but a 250ml bottle of the hot, legendary pepper sauce (according to their website)) for a fiver (a lot of money in those days). Desparate to prove my macho credentials in front of one of the few decent girls at my Uni (Imperial - just ask) I agreed.

I thought I was being clever when I removed the plastic drippy thing from the top - there was no way I was going to complete this challenge one drip at a time, and cunningly used a straw to swiftly emty the bottle down my throaght with as little contact with my lips and tongue as possible. Smugly I finished the glass of milk I had ready to rinse my mouth of the (surprisingly little) chilliness (water does not work - it makes it worse), held out my hand and recieved my reward. I then went to the bar to enjoy my newly acquired riches and glory.

All was well until I awoke at about 5 in the morning covered in sweat and to say "with severe abdominal pain" would have been an understatement - something was definately not right - kidney failure and appendicitis crossed my mind, then a dim recollection of the bet - apparently the compination of 5 pints of Murphy's and 250ml of Tabasco was not sitting easily and needed out - quickly. Luckily I had not pulled said girl and no - I did not shit the bed - I made it to the one toilet for the six rooms in the block just in time for a tubgirlesque frothy fountain to erupt in the general direction of the bog. Unfortunately the pain did not abate - it got worse and I was confined for the suqbequent few hours moaning slightly and feeling sorry for myself. After a while the other students began to wake up for their lectures and try to get into the shared bathroom and their concern and amusement ("are you OK in there?") gave way to frustation ("we need to crap too!") my cred rating also going down the toilet I was forced to eat humble pie, apologise and try to explain. They were non too pleased either to find that when I eventually did exit there was no loo roll left. And all the while it burned, burned burned...

Length - About 3 hours of sweating, straining and shivering.
(jmaxi returned again on, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 12:01, Reply)

I dared my parents to raise me well
but they don't take dares.

(writes bitter novel)
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 12:00, Reply)

Turd Smokin'
Jack was a peculiar child - thrown out of a Steiner school for driving their tractor into a pond, he famously appeared on crimewatch in his teens. (Not *that* famously, he did actually get away with it).

It wasn't fresh, that would have been tricky.

'Laying a cable' on a large piece of tin foil, he left the offending bum cigar behind a radiator until it was crumbly, then proceeded to make a joint with it.

His verdict?

"Tastes like shit."
(Countryslicker, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 11:43, 2 replies)

You’ll be a hero…..
I was on one of my backpacking trips; travelling through an Eastern European country which shall remain nameless when a group of locals invited me to watch a football match. Now I like my football and this was an opportunity I couldn’t refuse so I went along not really knowing what to expect. The atmosphere in the stadium was amazing; not like the soulless, let’s all be quiet for the Sky TV punters atmosphere you get back in England. Flares, flags, fences, riot police and Ultras everywhere.

It turned out that the guys I was with were part of a local Ultras group and as the match progressed they were teaching me songs, giving me a flag and then one gave me a dare. “Climb the fence with the flag; you’ll be a hero” and then the line that decided it “the girls will love it.” Why I felt the need to impress girls like some lovestuck teenager I don’t know (I was in my late 20’s) but off I went only to be hauled off the fence so fast I didn’t know what’d hit me.

The police were less than impressed; plus it turns out I was in the country illegally due to a slight technicality.

Dare to impress – it got me deported.
(Rev O'Lucian will unfortunatly age on, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 11:31, Reply)

Hen Night
Some years ago the cousin of ex-Mr.Chickenlady got married and I went along to her hen night.

The 'night' was in fact an entire weekend of debauchery in Cambridge (if getting debauched is possible in Cambridge).
I drove up with another friend (Vicki) who is coincidentally a six foot stunning blonde who does a bit of modelling in her spare time....

Now the three of us - Vicki, myself and Polly the 'Hen' have a little bit of history as we spent the night sharing a bed on my hen night...so it's safe to say we're very close.

In light of this closeness Vicki and I decided to stop off at a local 'adult' shop in order to purchase some toys for the weekend of fun.

The shop we went into wasn't either a family friendly Ann Summers or a squeaky clean bright lights and chrome job as you sometimes get (there's a nice one like that in central London) but rather this was a down-at-the-heel, skanky carpet, dodgy customers and nasty smells place. And it was right next to a pet shop, coincidence? I don't think so.

Anyway, in walk myself and Vicki, we spend some time browsing the shelves - both of us nonchalant and behaving as if this was simply the local branch of TopShop (remember this was before Ann Summers appeared on every High Street). Eventually we choose a variety of fun items which we know our Hen will enjoy....

That evening the party is in full swing in Browns in Cambridge....many banana daiquiris have been downed and we have reached the slightly raucous stage.

Now is the time to give our Hen her main 'gift'......A set of 'love eggs' (google it). Everyone laughs and they are passed around the table...then of course the dare is made that she tries them out....
She and I disappear off to the ladies to deal with this task. I was going to ensure she did the deed....

For those of you who are not aware of 'love eggs' they are a pair of small balls about the size of ping-pong balls, joined together with a cord and both have weights which move inside. The idea is that the (female) owner inserts them and they supposedly stimulate the owner as she walks around and carries out her daily tasks.

So, Polly (the Hen) goes into the toilet cubicle (how many of you were hoping or expecting me to accompany her???) and tells me she's doing the deed.
A few moments later she comes out of the loo and we both return to the table giggling.

Everyone asks if the balls work and Polly just giggles a great deal and drinks more....

Half an hour later I nip off to the loo for a pee and discover a huge queue for the ladies - a common occurrence. While standing waiting I overhear a couple of members of staff moaning about the loos.....one of them is out of order.....some bloody idiot tried to flush some plastic balls down them.....

I return to the table (after having a pee, of course) and blurt out to everyone what Polly has done.

As a penalty for not completing her dare we made her remove her knickers there and then, gave them to the very bemused but grateful waiter, and she spent the remainder of the evening knickerless...

And yes...there was flashing on the way home.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 11:09, 10 replies)

My father was a policeman
And *he* had a friend who worked in Maintenance on the Tube. As is well known, every so often some businessman or other will snap under the pressure of owning all those Jags and houses and jump under a train. The little-heard aspect of the story is that someone has to clean up the resulting mess. It is the 1970s and my father's mate is one of these people.

After shutting down the Tube station, he and his team are merrily cleaning away, picking up arms and legs, bits of torso etc. There were a few mops and buckets and stuff.

They couldn't find the guy's head. Anywhere.

"Somebody's going to have to go up the dark, echoey, badly lit tunnel with all the trains rumbling through it creating a suitably hellish environment in order to find a grisly, bload-soaked, disembodied head, probably frozen in a grim rictus of pain and terror," were one man's paraphrased words (well, it was Halloween yesterday, bugger off).

My father's mate drew the short straw. Off he wanders with a torch. An hour goes past. His mates start to worry and wonder if they're going have to do another clean-up operation somewhere in the tunnel network. They are just about to send somebody to a phone to shut down the tunnel when they see the bobbing light of a torch and the sound of whistling.

My dad's mate comes strolling out of the tunnel with the head held carelessly by the hair. He then flicks it up and drops it, bringing his foot up in a wonderfully executed drop kick. Aimed straight at the guy who suggested drawing straws. Who screamed and threw up.

Not quite a dare really, but a suitable story for the time of year. Dad told me that his mate's foot hurt for two days after that. Heads are heavy.
( Kroney, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 11:03, 3 replies)

Not so much a dare....



But a wistful dream amongst all us kids in the neighbourhood. A dream to be the first to climb to the top of a very tall pine tree. Everybody had given it a try and everyone had failed.

One day, while strolling along all by myself, I found myself at the tree and decided to have a go.

I climbed up and up and up. Up past the awkward bit where you had to swing halfway around the trunk to get to the next branch and upwards into the stratosphere. I got to the bendy branches which could barely take my weight and clung to the whip-like top of the tree to admire the view. I'd done it! I was the first to ever climb to the top only... only there wasn't a soul around to see it. Bollocks. So I decided I'd better climb back down and set off.

I didn't get very far when my foot slipped and down I went. I must have bounced a good third of the way down before one of the larger branches broke my fall. I managed to get down the rest of the way covered in green mould, scratches and several painful bruises.

As I was checking myself over, this man, dragging a dog on a lead came running over. I turned, grinning at him in the sure knowledge that he had witnessed my triumph. He had, only he didn't reckon that it was a victory of man over nature. In short, I was called a little fool, eejit and more besides for nearly killing myself.

I headed homewards and comforted myself with the thought that at least I had done the impossible and it had been witnessed.

A few days later and the council parks department showed up at the tree. They lopped off all the lower branches until there was a 10-15 foot stetch of bare trunk. It seems that Mr. Dogwalker had phoned up to complain about the health hazard and reminded the council about public liability.

So, despite me swearing that I'd done the deed, nobody believed me and the tree became legendary for being the one nobody ever conquered.
(Fanta Menace Is tall enough to see over the fence, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 10:49, Reply)

The Dangers Of Email Flirting
I once worked with a supplier mostly over email for a period of 6 months.

During that time the conversations became more racy, flirty and risqué.

This culminated one day (bear in mind we have never seen each other), in her jokingly saying in answer to a question of mine "Well you've never seen me naked have you?".

Not one to miss a trick I jumped on the opportunity and laid down the gauntlet with the (now) immortal line "I dare you to send me a picture of you naked".

She coyly agreed, and the next day a mail arrived with a jpg attachment called "Me.jpg".

Well, folks I opened this with anticipation, my heart pounding so fast I thought it was trying to get out of my chest.

What was then displayed in front of me was indescribable. It looked like a white chocolate walnut whip with tits!
Although she was, indeed, naked it was hard to find any discernable genitalia there.

Dont get me wrong, I have nothing against curvy girls, in fact my preference is for the more rubenesque figure, but this was just taking the peach.

I hauled my 24 stone frame out of my chair, waddled out for a box of Krispy Kreme donuts and contemplated how to let this barrage balloon down gently.
(Vic Flange, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 10:38, 1 reply)

I dared a mate to join the French Foreign Legion
I don;t know if he did or not. I never saw him again.
( Crap Little Monkey Deathstar, so good they built it twice, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 10:33, Reply)

Swinging about
Was in the woods with my brother and a couple of mates, and we came across a rope swing across a deep hollow, about 20-30ft deep. There were a bunch of little kids swinging about on it, and my bro & mates had a go too. I wouldn't though, because (a) I was a fat kid and much heavier than them and (b) the "rope" was actually a stringy length of washing line. Everyone dared me to but I refused. Oh how the little kids laughed, but I got the last laugh because I'm still here without a broken back.

*goes out and gets hit by a bus*
( Ysol ab abl blap, Fri 2 Nov 2007, 10:22, Reply)