b3ta.com qotw
You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Home » Question of the Week » Stupid Dares » Page 9 | Search
This is a question Stupid Dares

I once dared my mate to eat one of those blue cakes out of a urinal. He won his 50p, and got his stomach pumped into the bargain.

Stupid dares, eh?

(, Thu 1 Nov 2007, 11:22)
Pages: Latest, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, ... 1

This question is now closed.

oops I did it again..
Back in the 80's, I dared my mate Mark Chapman to shoot John Lennon..

I was only joking Mark you fecking psycho.

Ho Ho, how I laughed when he was refused parole again..
(, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 12:58, Reply)
Shakespearean misunderstaning
A Kenyan friend of mine who learned English mostly from reading Shakespeare had an unfortunate accident on a bus. After he had grabbed a handful of a middle-aged woman's arse, she turned to him and asked "How dare you?" Mistaking this for an Elizabethan English request, he replied "I dare you to polish my knob."

She kicked him in the nuts until he was unconscious.
(, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 12:30, 3 replies)
when I was at uni
My friend G and myself were sat in a lovely, quiet bar in the city of Carlisle. Now, that particular night we were celbrating something or other and were really quite drunk when another innebriated fellow came sat with us. He was one of these annoying types who is instantly really over-familiar and starts playfighting with my mate G, pinching his nipples and that. G get quite upset at this invasion of his personal space and warns the drunkard off. He suddenly changes of from affable but annoying to hostile and threatening, telling us that he'll fuck us up and put some serious hurt on our asses. G turned to the man and said slowly and deliberately: "I don't feel pain, I just inflict it" - line that we laugh about to this day. The drunk guy tells us to prove it, so we turned to each other, then back to him and slowly grind our fags out in the palm of our hand.

This seemed to do the trick, as he just sort of wandered off after that, less impressed than we'd hoped, but at least he'd gone.

As soon as his back was turned, me and G silently screamed in agony, grabbing ice out of our drinks to soothe the wounds.

Took 2 weeks to heal completely, with horribly jelly hand innards on show for a couple of days...
(, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 12:19, 2 replies)
Mustard and loose change.
Rather un-remarkable, but thought I'd post it nonetheless.

At about 15 or 16, I was dared to eat a whole jar of english mustard for the reward of 10 Regal Kingsize. With one stipulaton, I accepted. I had to have something to put it on. A slice of bread was produced and I went forth and consumed the entire contents of the jar, sweating profusely around the face and sheding tears or pure napalm.

No, I didn't get the cigarettes.

A lad I went to school with, Elvis (for that's what he was called etc. etc.) went through a stage of agreeing to swallow coins. I still don;t know whether this was just for the kudos of doing it, or if he sifted through (*retch*) and retrieved them later. He wouldn't do 2p's or 50's and the £2'er wasn't around then.

I only had a couple of classes with him, but watched him swallow £3.41 myself, so he must have swallowed at least a tenner in the few weeks he did it. Apparently he stopped 'performing' after over-doing it and having a rather difficult and painful 74p shit.

I still remember him every time I see a bank coin bag and read the words "No mixed coin please" or walk past a 'coin-star' at Asda.
(, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 12:10, 2 replies)
How sad?
To quell my pyromaniac desires and to relieve the unusual wheelie-bin volume problems we've had of late, I've taken to burning cardboard boxes and the like in a little wire basket in the garden.

On Saturday, I was duly disposing of a bag of old statements etc and came across a couple of AAA batteries that 'her indoors' had put into the bag.

Rather than basic female stupidity, I took this to be either a dare to burn them (strictly against safety instructions, kiddies!) or an attempt to injure my person.

I got a good blaze going with some barclaycard statements and banks statements, then rolled up some pieces of cardboard and wedged the batteries inside. I dumped them in the blaze and retreated to what I hoped would be a safe distance.

I heard some sizzling, which actually got the adrenaline going a little bit in anticipation, then a *PFFFFT* which produced a slight plume of paper-ash. There was also a bit of a funny smell.

So, for those who take heed of safety warnings: Disposing of batteries in fires will not result in decapitation, or even combat-style shrapnel wounds. Aerosol tins, however...........
(, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 10:33, 5 replies)
Pull up a Sandbag
Back in the 90s I joined the Territorial Army for a laugh and as a way to put me through University. The laugh was on me, as I hated my course and students I dropped out and joined the real world. Just in time for the 'draft'.
A request was sent out for volunteers to go on operational deployment to the Former Republic of Yugoslavia. So I was sent to Bosnia for a year.
My work consisted of paperwork and admin. And travelling around Sarajevo at high speed in a 2 vehicle convoy. As higher a speed as diesel landrovers could manage. One trip back from the airport to base sat in the back of the lead rover trying to keep ahead of the other one, flicking the Vs at each other, racing through sniper alley, talk turned to mooning.
I crouched in the back with trousers and pants bunched in my fists and asked for permission to moon.
With permission to moon granted I pulled down my pants.

Now if I'd actually been shot, my story might have been better for you the reader and for the poor unfortunate old couple in the battered Lada that choose exactly the wrong moment to pull in between our convoy.
(, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 10:12, Reply)
I made myself do it.
I'm daring to ask the question "How do you dare yourself?"
Are there voices in your head?
(, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 9:45, Reply)
pony tail cut
When I was a young boy at school the fashion was to have rats style pony tails like what the thomsontwins (pop group) had, one girl in my class had a very long rats tail and my m8 dared me to cut it off. With out thinking I did, I broke that girls heart and had a good battering for it but inhind sight I did a public service as they looked crap
(, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 9:34, Reply)
Albert :)
Knew a doorman called Albert, cracking bloke and hell of a laugh too. His partner in crime was me ex-manager called Steve, and together they'd dare each other into trouble. Both have been in A&E wearing saucepans, launched a death-trap of a car "Starsky and Hutch" style onto a rugby pitch instead of the scrapyard and done lots and LOTS of pranks on everyone they know.

One of the more famous ones was on Steve's elderly neighbour though, as she was quietly watching something on the telly and she spied someone in her front garden.

Twas Albert, wearing a pair of Steve's boxer shorts on his head with his own trousers around his ankles and swinging an authentic ornamental Samurai Sword while screaming "Albert, WARRIOR PRINCESS!!!!" and swinging away wildly, not too akin to the likes of Star Wars Kid.

They trust this guy to bounce a nightclub too :D
(, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 9:32, Reply)
what was I thinking ??!!
I dared my mate to swallow 2 kilo's of coke before boarding the plane at Bangkok.

He is now serving a triple life sentence in a shoe box where they repeatedly rape and beat him..

I mean... ! what are the chances of that !

Looking back, it was a very silly and irresponsible dare..I still laugh every time I see the sunlight.
(, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 9:10, Reply)
Saturday night ...
After a couple of glasses of the 'falling down juice' I mistakenly undertook a dare. This QOTW having been open for a few days I should have known better.

The house a couple of doors down was having a firework party. The man of the house was obviously impressed with his display. I (foolishly) accepted the challenge to out do him. I went to the lockup and got out 4 rockets. Each of which was a 1kg payload.

I merrily hammered the launch rack into the lawn and loaded the rockets. Set the launcher at an angle to have the rockets explode right above his house, set them to fire at .3 second intervals. Pressed the red button ...

It was good.

Got up yesterday and noticed the huge scorch mark in the immaculately manicured communal lawn. Fucksocks.
(, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 8:41, Reply)
I was the age of
19 at the time, not long before I turned 20.

It was the summer of 1995, and for the duration of that season, come friday afternoon I sprinted out of my vacation job when it came to 'down tools time' (2pm) in order to make the fairly short journey to the god-forsaken hertfordshire satellite town in which I 'studied' for the rest of the year.

The purpose of this was a weekend of carousing at the house of a friend who was living there over that summer, which every week involved a trip to a municipal theatre in which was held an insipid indie night, an event we attended religiously during term time.

Every week, without fail, we got drunk on cheap, awful lager, bought at least one strange 'cocktail' with a name akin to 'bloody arse-fuck', (of which there where about a dozen, although for some reason they all consisted of snakebite and black plus a shot of something you'd only previously seen in your grandparents' sideboard, covered in dust) and fail to pull, which we would crown with the short walk home, which involved talking too loudly, knocking over bins, and maybe a burger.

On the third weekend of summer, our evening's 'merriment' at an end, smelling of too much dry ice, menthol cigarettes and lynx, we headed off for just that burger.

At around the same time, about half one in the morning, a middle aged couple took the unusual decision to walk their dog.

Meanwhile I, in my stupoured sate, desired change. I saw something, and licking the ketchup from my fingers, decided I was going to do it, and by that I meant do in the "in inverted commas" way.

"You see that?" said I.
"What about it?" said my friend.
"I'm going to FUCK THAT HEARSE!" I bellowed, and at that point charged across the road, took an astounding flying leap, and landed on the bonnet of the undertaker's vehicle.

With all of my weight on one knee. The knee that promptly dislocated and then relocated very quickly. It would dislocate properly a few weeks later, but that is unimportant. What IS important was that it hurt like fuck.

I slithered off the bonnet into a screaming pile on the floor.

My friend rushed over, inquiring into my wellbeing, and laughing a bit. He stood over me and offered me his hand as a means to elevate myself from the unforgiving tarmacadam of the road.

At this point the couple with the dog walked past. They looked with an understandable mixture of bemusement and mild terror at the twin figures in the road, one standing over the other's crumpled frame.

"I reckon they think I've decked you" remarked my friend as they drew near. Seeing his distress at this, I rectified the situation by speaking thusly to the couple as they passed:

"Don't worry, he hasn't hit me. He's helping me up because I dislocated my knee trying to fuck that hearse."

They then executed the subtle but perceptible change in ambulatory speed that one performs if you believe yourself to be being followed, while I mused that maybe that hadn't been the best thing to say.

Somewhere in this process I was dared to do something.
(, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 6:07, 2 replies)
Ohh another one!
Same village as listed below. It was Thursday evening and that meant Youth Club! Before the place opened up we were milling about nearby and someone found a dead rat. One chap was dared to take said rat (using two sticks, not his bare hands - we did have standards) and throw it onto the road at the bottom of the car park. The chap who was dared to do it walked carefully down the car park with the rat suspended on two sticks. I suppose he looked a bit like a rat-amplified dowser.

The rat was duly lobbed onto the road and as it happens landed with front facing the middle of the road and the tail facing the path. The chap that threw it stood still while we waited for something to come along and run it over. Well the next thing to come along was an articulated lorry with nice wide tyres. Lovely we thought, this should do the trick - and it did.

Now I'd guess the rat was about 4 feet away from the chaps location and when the lorry ran over the rat the guts shot out of the rats bum at speeds I can only guess at. The intestines piled up on his shins and looked a bit like toothpaste. He was jumping about and kicking trying to get the stuff off his leg/shoe and of course the rest of us were doubled up laughing. We did of course call him Ratty from then on.

So kids, if you're going to crush a rat, don't stand at either end to be safe.

Length? over 4 feet, but memories that lasted a lifetime!
(, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 3:46, Reply)
Cow pats and dares
I grew up in a little village in Buckinghamshire which were surrounded by fields and the like. some of these fields had cows in them, and unsurprisingly there were lots of cow pats in those fields.

A bunch of mates had been off roaming around and came across a string of crowscarers in a field. We cut them off the pole and put out the slow burning wick. Much louder than regular bangers (firecrackers). While going through a cow pasture with them we dared one of the lads to put a crowie in a cowpat and light it. I must have been good at physics because I saw it as a good idea to hide behind a tree while this was going on. Everyone else but the dare-ee was a respectable distance back when Andrew lit the device and retired to what he thought was a safe distance. One almighty boom later and we all ventured out to see the damage. The cowpat was gone, all that was left in its place was some yellowing wet grass. The removal was almost perfect.

Only then did we look at Andrew who was covered, head to toe in some sort of aerosol green paint. Only it wasn't paint was it!

I can only presume the whole pooh got vaporised and re-distributed all over and those that were close got painted.

After the shock wore off, we laughed like drains. Well all except for Andrew and he didn't know what to do.

Good times.

Length you ask? From where we were to Andrews house, about a mile and a half.. Time enough for the cowspray to dry. I don't know what his mum said.
(, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 3:36, 1 reply)
silly boy
A friend of mine in bygone years was a wee bit devoted and loyal, if not a touch simple. Being the evil twisted bastard that I am, I dared him to snort chilly powder. I'll never forgot that look of horror as his nose started to bleed and his face turned red. I am a sick fuck.
(, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 2:51, Reply)
Did you tread in something?
Reading another person’s account about blowing up a dog turd, transported me back to my own youth. While walking to high school one day with a friend, I thought it would be oh so hilarious to dare him to blow the shit out of a dog turd with some firecrackers he had. Never one to back away from a dare, he thought he’d up the ante when he spotted the perfect dog turd at a bus stop soon after, where some seven or eight adults stood patiently waiting. The sizeable, dare I say, freshly deposited dung pile was glistening in the morning sun on the footpath behind the standing adults, so it was relatively easy for my friend to insert a couple of crackers into it, light them and hurriedly move safely to one side.

Two rather loud bangs were heard, naturally startling the adults who turned and glared at my friend for being so childish. Of course what they didn’t know was that the backs of their trousers, stockings, suit coats, dresses etc were speckled with the sloppiest, smelliest dog shit known to mankind. I’d have given anything to have seen the reaction of the other passengers on the bus when seven or eight rather smelly adults boarded. Yes we were juvenile, but sensible enough to start walking to school a different way from that day.
(, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 2:08, 1 reply)
A friend of mine
(this story contains me)

A fair few years ago in a sunny place called cambridge I was single and so was my flatmate, I was single because I had dumpted my girlfriend after she cheated on me(previous qqotw) and my friend was well i'll put it this way grubby.

He was a skinny type with a beard and he was reading physics. He has little to no social skills and he could not dance.

He admitted to us that he had never kissed a girl, and he was 20. But he could roll a mean joint and we use to get on well me being somewhat of a nerd aswell.
He also had a thing about if anyone dared him to do somethig he would just to prove a point, so i coluded with another flatmate of mine in a way to get him to find a girl.
I dared him to get a girlfriend within a month and he said "well ok but whats in it for me?"
"I'll bet you 100 skinny pounds you can't"

The race was on, he got his hair done, shaved his beard off, got new clothes, he even went to a dance night to learn to dance at the union.

he first Friday night came, he looked nervoulsy around til he found a girl, she rejected him then he spent 3 days alone in his bedroom , welll being depressed at such a minor rejection.

At this I felt terrible racking my brain for a way to make it better, I spoke to a few people and we fopund out that a girl called Sarah, was alos hopeless at romance, so we se them up. My flatmate met her and went for a drink. We were also there being noisy twats, apparently he had said the first thing that came into his head and it was "will you consider marying me because i don't know but i think I love you and we could move in together and start a family one day"

But it worked she actually said okay then.

he ot married about a year ago to Sarah 4 years after meeting her in a dusty pub in cambridge and bursting out with a stupid line.

I handed over the £100 pounds when they met and I have never spent a 100 pounds better.

p.s I only did it because I fancied her mate who was fanfuckingtastic in bed! I ended up asking her to marry me!

£100 = 2 weddings and 4 happy people. Can't complain

length = 100 pounds
(, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 0:57, 4 replies)
I dared myself to leave my computer unlocked at work
Thinking "nothing will happen". Like the complete fool I was. This was the result:

(, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 0:54, 1 reply)
Glad I didn't
Me and some mates were bored, so we came up with some dares that are far too stupid to contemplate doing:

Walk into a gospel church dressed as one of the black and white minstrels

Turn up to A & E with a comedy plastic axe 'through' the head

Dress up as the prophet Mohammed (in the style of the Danish cartoons) and walk into a mosque

eat dog poo.

needless to say, none of us have actually done any of them, hence why we're all alive and/or not in prison.

Apologies for shitness.
(, Mon 5 Nov 2007, 0:26, Reply)
School Daze
Back in the heady days of primary school, we had a kid called Steels (as that was his name...those of you from Immingham will have seen this fool attacking a fried egg sarnie outside of Skeltons with all the grace of a Bulldozer doing a japanese tea ceremony).

Just as we were about to head back into class he decalred that he needed to go...and, well, have a shit. Gazza, a cool kid, dared him to try and hold it til lunch time, and, upon completion of said dare, he would be in possesion of a shiny new pack of Wheat Crunchies. Game on.

Steels, over the next 1 hour and 30 minutes became more and more restless. His skin started to slowly turn a very pale gray. He started fidgeting. He started to sweat. The teacher started to tear a strip off, "Steels, sit down!".

The bell rang for lunch. Steels could almost taste those Crunchies as he started to run for the door...until Teach called him back to tear him off a strip for being so disruptive during class.

As the teacher began to bellow, lamenting his fidgeting, fat form, there was an almighty HRRRUMMMPHHHH! as Steels' lovingly baked brownies escaped into his Spidey Y-fronts, breeched the leg elastic, and slowly slid to the floor from the leg of his shorts.

The teacher had to go into counselling as he thought he had made Steels shit hiself with fright, we had to spend the rest of the day in a classroom smelling of Steels' shit, whilst he had the rest of the day off being pampered and having a new transformer bought for him.

He is still a dick, still eats egg sarnies and just got married to a girl who looks like a Fimble.

Length? You should see it when its aroused.
(, Sun 4 Nov 2007, 23:49, Reply)
How to Annoy Your Dad

When I was eight, my sister dared me to push a paper clip up my nose (for some reason). I duly did this, all the way up, and lodged it nicely in the depths of my sinuses. This was followed by a severe panic when I realised I could not get it out again, and it was causing a nasty metallic grating pain in the middle of my face.

As a result, my dad had to take me to A&E where we waited for two hours to be seen. A doctor finally saw us and removed the offending paper clip with a long thin pair of pliers. There was a bit of blood, and a nasty little bit of flesh on the paper clip once removed. This was followed by a long lecture from both the doctor and my dad (who was very pissed off by this time).

We get home, and I head off to catch up with my sister. After ten minutes or so, she dares me to put the paper clip up my nose again. MMmmm...after a minute of so of thought, and taunting, I thrust another paper clip up my nose, again losing the end and lodging it in my sinuses again.

You can imagine how pleased my dad was when I sheepishly went to report my predicament for the second time in one day. Cue, three more hours at the hospital, and the same doctor....very annoyed this time.
(, Sun 4 Nov 2007, 23:31, 2 replies)
I once dared
some popular b3tans to make us stories for QOTW.

It worked.
(, Sun 4 Nov 2007, 21:45, Reply)
Drunken Gems
Ok, another tale of pain...

Playing darts in a lock-in at the local.

I throw a dart, it bouncesof the wire and in my frustration I volley it, straight through my boot, luckily in the gap between my toes.

Lee turns and says, "do that again.." I do.

I end up in the John Radcliffe with a dart through my foot.

(, Sun 4 Nov 2007, 21:15, Reply)
Bodily Fluids
Drunken conversation.

Me: You know you have 8 pints of blood in your body..
James: I could drink that...
Me: Yeah, in beer, but what about spirits?
James: Ok...

3 hours later, James had his stomach pumped and active charcoal in him... I have his £10 note in my sky rocket...
(, Sun 4 Nov 2007, 21:13, Reply)
I dared my colleague at work to snort the wasabi out of my lunchtime pack of sushi, for the contents of our staff swear box. After a bit of hesitation and deliberation, the bald headed idiot then decided that it was a good idea and promptly squeezed the wasabi paste (paste, mind!) onto his desk, and took out a fiver for the 'straw'... after the mega countdown 5,4,3,2,1! ...he snorted said paste right up his nostril - and screamed his head off!! Baldy went redder than usual and did a delightful little dance round his desk! When his eyes had stopped watering enough to count the contents of the swear box, he discovered £2.75p and a wedge of I.O.U's...hehehe
(, Sun 4 Nov 2007, 20:10, Reply)
Drunken Hand Gestures
When drunk me and a few friends were using a potato cannon to launch random things. (you ignite a potato cannon with hairsray, bugspray etc.)

We decided it would be fun to coat our hands with hairsray/bugspray, then light our hands on fire and make a gesture for the camera.
I dared my friend to hold it for as long as he could, and he ended up getting 2nd degree burns all across the back of his hand.
(, Sun 4 Nov 2007, 19:18, Reply)
Also the same sketch
with the deep heat on the old scrotum.

Do it. It is exhilarating. But painful.
(, Sun 4 Nov 2007, 19:16, Reply)
I decided I'd dare someone
to stick a massive line of chilli powder up their nose as though it were drugs... he he. I got told to fuck off and double dared.

Did it

Pissed mucus out of every orifice in my face. I cried and snorted like an impaled sow
(, Sun 4 Nov 2007, 19:14, Reply)

This question is now closed.

Pages: Latest, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, ... 1