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This is a question Well, that taught 'em

Sammi Evil Nice writes "I shared with two students, and it was always the same; whenever it was near to paytime, my milk *and only this* would disappear.

One of them, John, was a lovely bloke but allergic to nuts. John makes tea. Soon after, John starts swelling up.

ME: Runs, administers epi-pen. "You're going into anaphalactic shock."
HIM: "How do you know?"
ME: "I put almond oil in my milk."

What have you done to teach somebody a lesson?

(, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 14:54)
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This question is now closed.

A lighthearted that'll teach 'em
seeing as most b3tards' stories are depressing me.

In secondary school a new guy arrived from Stirling, Calum I think it was. He was too cool for school and generally copied off everyone else's work for his homework.

He did this to me in physics, and at the start I didn't really mind. But after a while this starts to grate, and I thought I would teach him a lesson. Our physics teacher was a pretty volatile bloke, nice enough sometimes but needed anger management and was pretty scary when he got going.

So I can only imagine his rage when, on marking Calum's homework, he would have found out that the answer to "What was the velocity of car 1?" was "The donkey likes to eat carrots" .

That'll teach 'em, and not in permanent scarring/much worse retribution way.

(, Tue 1 May 2007, 3:34, Reply)
Mad ex story
Ok, so I was finally getting rid of the crazy bitch that I'd supported for four years. She was moving out and we were splitting the possesions, the main ones were:-
A water bed (surely we need a QOTW on these!)
Fridge and freezer
Tv and video.

Now, she decided she wanted the water bed above anything else. I had to point out that the cost of the water bed was the same as the other things combined. She agreed and off she went, happy as larry that she had got her way.
Silly cow hadn't thought about the fact that although I'd paid for the bed in full when we bought it, all the rest had been bought on shop credit. In her name. And none of it had been paid for.
She had also insisted on all the utility bills being in her name when we'd moved in. As you may know, to cancel this you need to send a letter explaining that you've moved out and settling the final bill etc. Until you've done this you are legally liable for the bills.
She thought I would do that for her.
She thought wrong.

So, I rubbed my hands together at all my free stuff and then partied like there was no tomorrow for the next 3 months (until I moved out myself). My phone was free for anyone to use for as long as they liked. Every light in the house was left on and the heating was on full.

Two years later, she has finally tracked me down to demand money from me. She has several CCJ's against her name, can't get any credit anywhere and is still recieving demands for the bills and the tv & video.
For some reason she thought I would be happy to stick my hand in my pocket and come up with the cash to get her out of trouble.
Sadly, again, she thought wrong. after pointing out to her the fault in her logic (at taking the waterbed above the stuff she actually owned) and then letting her know that the next day I was flying out to live in Jamaica, I'd thought she'd see the funny side.

She didn't.

Happy days...
(, Tue 1 May 2007, 1:21, Reply)
the usual "at school" story
back in the day, 8 or 9 years ago (christ i'm getting old) there was the generic 'cock of the year', which was the hardest guy in your year, although in hindsight i think it has two meanings.

Anyway, school finishes, gates open, everyone floods out, usuall banter outside gates before everyone says their farewells (and buys and icecream from the peadeo in a van).

out strides the cock of the year, blonde hair, blue eyes, and his usuall chav crowd in tow.

he goes round, mocking, 'playfully' punching people in the stomach as he walks by. it comes to my turn, i knew what was coming so jumped out of the way, but he still clipped me in the stomach but not enough to hurt. not wanting to appear too hard, in case tries again, and being the little geek i was trying to avoid confrontation, i bent over and pretended it hurt.

usual series of thoughts running through my head; "stay in this position until he's gone, don't make eye contact, UPPERCUT THE FUCKER"

Shit, what, where did that thought come from? too late. i'd looked up, targeted his chin, straightened up whist swinging my fist and.... oh shit, contact.

FUCK FUCK FUCK. RUN? STAY AND PRETEND I'M HARD. FREEZE LIKE A CHICKEN? oh, yeah, right, now i'm a chicken. thoguth the haze of my own confusion and his, i hear his chav 'posse' shout out "hit him back, you can't let him do that to you, get him" etc. "oh dear. i'm going to be on the floor" i thought.

"nah, err, i'll leave him this time" replied a squeeky voice.

what. the. fuck?

i walked home, feeling heroic and making a permanent mental note never to do any shit like that again.

he never even looked at me again.

sorry for length, girth, and excessive use of commas.
(, Tue 1 May 2007, 1:11, Reply)
Not my proudest moment...
My big brother (3 years older than me) used to do various things like pin me down and fart on my head, get me into boxing matches (fights in the front room) with his mates, use me as a goal post etc.
By the time i was about nine I'd had quite enough of this, so I decided to set him a trap.
He was in the bath, so I got a sewing needle and pushed it upside down into the carpet outside the bath. I had to estimate where his foot might land and didn't really give much thought to the fact that I might not be right.
Anyway, I went off to watch tv or something. About 30 minutes later the house is filled with the most bloodcurdling screams.
Turns out I'm a natural at spotting trajectories etc. He'd stepped straight onto the needle and it had gone a good half inch into his foot. I'd never seen him cry before.
The memory of him writhing in agony whilst my mum tried to pull it out with a pair of pliers will stay with me to my grave.

to this day he still doesn't know it was me. To be fair, after his foot had healed he was still a big c*nt and my treatment got worse until I was finally big enough to knock him down (which took another 7 years).

We get on alright now though (20 odd years later), but I still have no desire to tell him what I did to get my own back on him!
(, Tue 1 May 2007, 0:55, Reply)
Balls to you!
At school I wasn't very sporty, I was fit but didn't like school sports. I hated playing football, my two left feet made it impossible for me to kick a ball in anything near a straight line. I was however not too bad in defence, I had a habbit of just getting in peoples way, doing their ankles in and messing up a carefully planned attack.

One time I was picked for the team with the absolute arse-head of the entire year. Lets call him 'Dummo'. Dummo was one of those cocky bastards who thought he was a one man football team, full of himself and a thoroughly unpleasant guy to be around. So he gives us all positions, I mention that i'm slightly better in defence than in goal and point out the obvious that a 5'4" runt like meself isn't too good in a full size goal. So the stupid bastard puts me in goal, I'm really pissed.

The game begins, Dummo is running up and down the field like a rutting gazelle. Showing off his ball skills, forgetting that he has 10 other players on the team. I stand in the middle of the goal blissfully unaware of what is going on.

Suddenly I hear my name called, Dummo is hurtling down the pitch, red faced and screaming obscenities at me. I look down and see about 10 yards away the ball rolling gently across the grass towards my goal.

I could have stopped it with my foot. I could have sneezed heavily and the bloody thing would have stopped. I saw this, saw how angry Dummo was and made my move.

I waited until the second the ball had passed the line before collapsing sideways in a mock-dive. Cue a round of applause from the entire team and Dummo raging like an angry frog. Turns out everyone else hated him as well.

Length? Just over the line.
(, Tue 1 May 2007, 0:14, Reply)
Chavs always deserve it
A delightful chav who lived a few streets down from me a few years back was the victim, he always smoked in my garden and threw beer bottles at the windows, in the end he ended up breaking the front window. So one night after maybe a few too many to drink we went to his house in my wide assortment of mountaineering balaclavas and
1. broke into his saxo and stole the steering wheel
2. broke into his house and ripped up the carpet in his living room
3. broke the back door
4. pushed the washing machine and fridge into the back garden pond
5. splashed the living room walls with lead based paint
6. pissed on his leather settee
7. tipped the rest of the paint on the settee
8. ran up and down the stairs screaming

the thing was we could hear him shouting behind an upstairs door, he was screaming, peter we will call my friend had had the brains to be the first to run in straight upstairs and cover his door in industrial strength masking tape, so the bugger couldnt get at us

my memory gets a bit vague there but next morning was the worst morning and best morning in my whole life, i had the worst hagover ever and somehow i managed to break a rib (mystery to me) but when i walked down the road later to goto the shops i walked past his house, about 3 police cars were outside it :S:S oh dear shitshitshitfuckfuck i thought, but luckily, mr chav had no idea who it was, he prob thought it was his chav friends, but he moved not long after and for the next 6 months or so there was scaffolding outside his ex-house no idea why :S but he deserved it

we were drunk and there was about 30 of us :D, i deffinitely wasnt the ring leader
(, Mon 30 Apr 2007, 23:55, Reply)
I was at a works Christmas do about 10 years back and I was, unsurprisingly for me, hammered.

I was with 2 of my (girl) friends and I was keen to impress - the conversation at the bar went something like this:

Me: Barman, I'll have the £25 bottle of champagne
Barman (BM): Sorry sir, we haven't got any left
Me: Well, that's not good enough
BM: Sorry sir Now Piss off*
Me: Well, what do you have??
BM: Just the £45 bottle, sir Moron*
Me: Ok, I'll have it and 3 glasses
(I was incredibly smug at this point)
BM: Here you are sir
Me: Good. Thank you.
Me: (Turns to girls) That showed him

3 weeks went by before I found that receipt again, when it dawned on me what an arse I'd been.

I think we know what the lesson was here....

*That bit wasn't said, but you can imagine the look
(, Mon 30 Apr 2007, 23:45, Reply)
Oedipus Complex
Is indeed the thing about marrying your mother (sortof) - if you end up doing that, then that's a lesson you really ought to learn before the wedding....


(, Mon 30 Apr 2007, 23:34, Reply)
Luke Brown
Utter. Cunt. Not one single person in our year liked him. He strutted trying to act the hard chav at a meager 5"4', constantly trying to flirt with girls waay out of his league with such pick up lines as "I want to do you up the ass" (seriously).
He was also one of those people who would scream and shout at everyone's faults in PE while he himself is a fat, flabby cunt.

He also did ballet.

There is nothing quite like the beauty of seeing a whole class of 30 or so lads in complete Rugby gear (i.e. big boots) rushing the fucker and proceding to kick the shit out of him on the field.

That learned him good.
(, Mon 30 Apr 2007, 23:32, Reply)
Fiat Uno
I had a Fiat Uno.

That taught me........

Actually, it didn't because I've since owned a Rover 200.

And now I drive a brand new Passat - Joy
(, Mon 30 Apr 2007, 23:29, Reply)
I just spent 5 minutes writing out a reply for this QOTW and then forgot to post it.

A night of heavy vodka consumption should teach my brain a lesson (in getting pissed presumably).
(, Mon 30 Apr 2007, 22:59, Reply)
Hand Shandy
Well first off I obviously have not learned my lesson from four years of Italian related expense, hence the (admittedly rather tenuous) link to the QOTW.

Secondly, you'd be quite correct in correlating the size of one's car to the size of one's manhood (or lack thereof), which was a point I believe I was making in slightly ironic fashion.

Thirdly, I am of the understanding that an "Oedipus complex" alludes one's desire to achieve sexual congress with one's own mother. Surely you should be accusing me of "Penis Envy"?

Word to the wise; I'd check your spelling, grammar and classic history if I were you.
(, Mon 30 Apr 2007, 22:39, Reply)
Bullies? Throw 'em off a cliff!
I, like so many other people posting here got a certain amount of hassle at school. Many many years later, and I find myself teaching the newbs how to handle off-road vehicles on a training course for the "long term unemployed" (as I had been, right up to starting doing the course myself). I had been entrusted with a machine called a Glenalmond, a sort of a cross between a Tonka truck and a motorised skip. One of the new guys starting that day was none other than one of the people who had given me extensive hassle from first to fourth year. Oh, this could get messy...
Now then, things started off cordial enough, as they do when viewed through the lens of a few years and a convivial cup of tea. Then we went out for the demo run. Now I have a terrible habit of turning to look at the person I'm talking to while driving, and while bowling along rough moorland in a 35bhp biscuit tin is no exception. "So these two levers here control the hydraulic motors, and the throttle pedal sets the engine power", I said, as we crested a rise with what looked like a sheer drop into a loch beyond, and the machine nearly stood on its nose. "... And, if I just pull them back gently we stop," - *THUD* as his face hit the windscreen - "... and pull them back further and we can just reverse back up this very steep hill! Good, isn't it? Right, your go..."

Length? It was the depth that did it...
(, Mon 30 Apr 2007, 22:15, Reply)
Catpain of industry
When I was at school there was a twunt (lets call him Deano, everyone else did) who annoyed the fsck out of me at school. He along with half the school, never missed a chance to annoy or bully me in some way.

Years passed. I moved on, got a family, and a job, eventually getting to middle managment in a reasonably sized engineering company in the midlands.

About 5 years ago, I ended up at the NEC for an exhibition, and as you do, got chatting to the team on the stand opposite. One of leaflet distributing girls there came from Sheffield ... a bit more chatting over a drink one lunchtime about where she lived etc her family etc turned out Deano was her dad! Well, blow me! what a coincidence .. of course I kept totally schtum and worked out a cunning plan. It needed a decent restaurant and some seriously decent wine ... but ... to the victor the spoils!

I tried to remember all the times he made my life hell, but I smiled, because I now had one piece of knowledge he'd never have ... I know his daughter takes it up the arse.

length? pretty much all of it.
(, Mon 30 Apr 2007, 21:04, Reply)
blah blah blah
i got a bit confused when i looked at the latest on this qotw - is b3ta now 'which car'?
boooooooooooooooooooooooooooring! personally, i couldn't give a monkeys what car you buy, any chance of a joke? at least clarkson is funny.
(, Mon 30 Apr 2007, 20:57, Reply)
Penis extension?...
"The French driver's infantile recklessness often annoyed him, but not so much as did the typical Italian driver's use of the automobile as an extension of his penis, or the British driver's use of it as a substitute." -- Trevanian

(We found out later, this was after Doug had gone so far as to use the microphone as an extension of his penis in an effort to fuck some fellow in the ear).

I've heard a great axiom: For a man, a car is an extension of his penis; for a woman, a car is an extension of her purse.

His guitar literally became an extension of his penis, ejaculating soul, melody and sex all over the shop. Not bad for someone who’ll fit nicely in your pocket.

(The above are examples of what you get when you type the phrase "extension of his penis" into Google. Thanks- I needed the laugh.)
(, Mon 30 Apr 2007, 20:15, Reply)
My flatmate Molly did lots of things that would be unusual for a human, but rather commonplace for a household pet such as a dog! To teach her a lesson, I got a man to kill her.

But it's alright! It turns out Molly was actually my pet dog, and not really my flatmate at all!! This was all just a really funny story where I cleverly played with your preconceptions.
(, Mon 30 Apr 2007, 19:53, Reply)
Previous job
I used to work as a cinema projectionist. I certainly showed 'em, several times a day.
(, Mon 30 Apr 2007, 19:40, Reply)
is this a qotw about revenge or a place to rant about cars

it well and truely shows that your penis extention means a lot to you

enjoy your Oedipus complex
(, Mon 30 Apr 2007, 19:39, Reply)
After my tirade against a certain Italian "assembler", which resulted in more gaz messages about learning my lesson than revelations about my ex-wife I decided to put the lessons I've learned into choosing a new car (I'm downsizing).


So what do I do, the sensible thing? I'm after a hatchback after all, I can chuck my bike in the back of it and halve my fuel bills. I really ought to be considering a Ford Feck-Arse, but I was stopped in my tracks the other day by something smaller and Italian. However I'm assured that quality problems are a thing of the past (yeah, right) and the dealers have been given a much needed kicking (heard that one before).

Clearly I am indeed an idiot for even contemplating that "ownership satisfaction" and "Alfa Romeo", hitherto the ultimate in oxymorons, might actually work out this time.

Better renew my AA membership.
(, Mon 30 Apr 2007, 19:07, Reply)
Big-ass SUV vs. Weedeater
I was driving from Richmond VA to Myrtle Beach SC last Thanksgiving with my kids to see my parents for the holiday. My girlfriend had my sons in her car, while I had my daughter in mine (there are too many of us to drive six hours in one vehicle).

My car is a 1999 VW Jetta TDI which has seen better days, thanks to my girlfriend's daughter. I had bought it from her for $500 because it's a diesel, but she had run it for a while without oil- so the turbo is shot, and it has little to no compression on two cylinders. Result: if I get on the expressway with it, I hold my foot to the floor and keep it there, and I kinda keep up with traffic. Due to the ruined turbo making a high-pitched whine and its complete lack of power, I call it the Weedeater.

So here I am, driving with my daughter in the Weedeater, trying to drive along I-95 with all the holiday traffic and the tractor trailers (lorries, for you English types), and doing my best not to either block traffic or get stuck in a knot of cars behind an even slower-moving vehicle. My daughter is not a small girl and I'm over 200 lbs, so the Weedeater was struggling. As I'm going along I find myself coming up rather fast on a slow moving tractor trailer, so I get in the left lane to pass him-

-and then find that we're going up a hill, and I don't have enough power to do so.

I said a few bad words, but as I was still going slightly faster than he was, I knew that I should just stick with it, especially as there was now a line of cars behind me, led by a very large SUV driven by a rather fat middle-aged man with a beefy red face who was now glaring at me in my mirror. I was in truth trapped there, unable to shift lanes to let them by without slowing down a lot- which would have been rather dangerous in that traffic and besides, I was still driving at the speed limit. It took about two minutes, but I finally got past the truck and pulled into the right lane to let the other cars by.

As soon as I did, Beefy Face swerved toward me, leaning on his horn and giving me the finger, just before jamming hard on the gas and roaring off at about 85 mph.

Too bad his big-ass SUV was so high off the ground, or he would have noticed that directly behind him was a state trooper. I think he was pulled over in about a quarter of a mile. Speeding, improper lane change, tailgating... I imagine that his Thanksgiving was spent in a drunken rage.

My daughter was still grinning about that when we arrived a couple of hours later.

Length and girth? Probably a hell of a lot more than Mr. Beefy Face has, given what he drives and how he drives it...
(, Mon 30 Apr 2007, 18:12, Reply)
Once at uni ...
... a few years back, I was walking through a car park on my way to the campus and I came across a fellow student pushing a very heavy trolley full of 1p coins in plastic sacks. Turns out, much to his disapproval, he had lost the deposit on his student house, so to get back at the landlord he paid him back the £200 odd quid in small change. Genuis.
(, Mon 30 Apr 2007, 18:02, Reply)
Dumb bully gets his commeuppance
I have to admit, like a lot of people on these boards, that I was bullied at school. I was new, I was clever(er than the tards that were there in the first place). I also happened to 'displace' one of the popular kids in the class seating plan, which involved the cleverer you were, the further you sit towards the back. He didn't like this, and after various verbal exchanges, which I lost, he tried to beat me to death.
However, he wasn't as bright as he thought he was, and I was quite nimble. As he swung his meaty leg at me, I, like a Ninja, jumped backwards, and grabbed his leg. I then proceeded to rise it higher, and higher, until he lost his balance and cracked his head on the concrete floor. How I laughed, and so did a lot of other people around. Success! What made it even sweeter, was that he tried to kick me in the corridor again just after, and slipped on the wet floor and went arse over tit. Hooray for Karma! He didn't bully me again :)
(, Mon 30 Apr 2007, 16:51, Reply)
I used to arse about a LOT at school, but I used to enjoy the cadets - We had a Combined Cadet Force (well, Army and RAF) and there was the usual Army/RAF rivalry, mainly because we were the educated bunch and they were a bunch of neanderthal morons.

Did I mention I was in the RAF section? :-)

Anyhoo, I always went on excercise with the Army - to shoot guns - and flying with the RAF for the best of both worlds.

The end of year camp was always looked forward too with fear and excitement and a little loathing....

Anyhoo, there were the usual shenanigins involving girls, fire, guns and girls all of which I will gladly put my hand up to usually being the ringleader of.

So when we got back and I got my ass hauled over the coals for a "fire in a billet" I was not amused - As much as I protested and complained, it was clear that I was the designated fall-guy for this one. Unfortunately I let slip "I had nothing to do with this incident, I was doing....." I stopped there as I was incriminating myself.

Anyway, I got a demotion, bollocking and a detention - I think the lesson there was "shut up"

That taught me - I never got promoted again - which meant I could still go and shoot at stuff! Hooray :o)

Perhaps I should start shooting at stuff again.....
(, Mon 30 Apr 2007, 16:38, Reply)
Evil english teacher
Me and a few mates decided to exact revenge on our grumpy (and morbidly obese) english teacher when we were in 4th year. She'd come in every day with a cup of coffee and plonk her fat arse down then make us read in silence all lesson and bark at anyone who dared to even breathe loudly. Sometimes she'd make people read aloud and deliberately pick on the stupid kids and mock them if they mispronounced words. Cow. So one day we wound her desk chair round and round up to the last thread on the screw. In she came, flopped down and promptly went flying along with her hot coffee. She was totally soaked and it took her ages to get her fat arse back up. Embarrassed is not the word! Ha.
(, Mon 30 Apr 2007, 16:31, Reply)
That'll teach you not to ask
I had an extremely annoying work colleague whose husband was such a tight-wad that he kept their car in a garage & made them both use public transport everywhere (maybe I've got him wrong - it was a skoda so maybe he just didn't want to be seen in public in the daylight in it???). Anyway, she lived fairly near me & once I'd passed my driving test, she suddenly became really matey.

But, and this is what annoyed me, instead of asking whether I would mind giving her a lift home (I was heading that way after all), she would hang around, making mindless small talk, telling me she might have missed her bus etc until I had no option but to offer her a lift. I honestly wouldn't have minded ever giving her a lift if she had actually asked me outright, but it was all the emotional-blackmail-pussy-footing about that pissed me off.

At that time I was driving a mark IV cortina (my first car!!!) which had a dodgy gear stick - if you pulled too hard whilst depressing the clutch it would come out in your hand - ooh err. As long as you held the clutch down it was a piece of piss to put back in (even for a a girly).

Anyway, one night I'd had enough of her drivel, changed gear and .... oh dear me, look what's happened .... I'm waving the gear stick wildly under her nose! I thought she was gonna jump out of the car there & then on the dual carriageway.

Oh I did laugh! Oh she didn't! Guess who always had peace and quiet on their drive home ever after that (and it wasn't the bus driver - ha ha)?
(, Mon 30 Apr 2007, 16:23, Reply)
This is slightly tenuous I guess...

As per a previous story I was banned from Chemistry - an "alleged" incident involving 4 desks, 2 sinks, a gas tap, ethanol and fire.

It was never conclusively proven to have been me....

Anyhoo, I had to do Art for GCSE as it was the only thing that fitted with my syllabus. Joy.

I hated it, I hated the classroom, I hated the whole damn thing and goofed off. A lot....

Anyway, in the 5th year, I came to the conclusion that I wasn't going to get kicked off so I started working and my grades slowly improved from a "G" to an "E".

Time came to take the exam and I actually tried hard (for some reason), found it easy-ish and I was proud.

My teacher then pointed out to me that had I worked like that for 2 years I'd get a "C" - as I was aiming for 10 Cs, I didn't get that full sweep.

There was a lesson there - damned if I can find it, but there you go.

Sorry for the randomness there, but I'm rather sleepy and my brain isn't firing
(, Mon 30 Apr 2007, 16:15, Reply)
A company that I used to work for
The MD was a bit of an entrepreneur, and he kept thinking up new company names and registering them, then thinking up ways to make money from them, then he would get me to register the web domains and put together a site for him.

I've just been to the company's main site and found that two of the links on the main page are to domains that he has now let expire. It's extremely tempting to register them and host a goatse or something.
(, Mon 30 Apr 2007, 16:08, Reply)
Unstable-angry-Dan has reminded me of this revenge/taught'em story...

I was bullied at school. A lot. One guy, who I'll not name, was a particular offender - nothing major, but it was constant - Let's call him Bob.

Not helped when, one year, I was the only black kid in a forces boarding school - You might as well have painted a target on my ass....

Anyhoo - as mentioned before, I had a hair trigger temper and it didn't take much to tip me off so that was his cause celebre - "See how long it'll take to tip JTW over the edge".

I endured this for a few years as I was only ickle and couldn't do much about it - until the 5th year (Showing my age here I think - I was 15 or 16 so is that year 11??)

He was goading me and I snapped, suddenly I had him by the throat yelling in his face angrier than I'd been for, ooo, at least 20 minutes - threatening many bad things, etc.

I calmed down after his face turned a little bit blue and oddly enough we became friends after that one....

Shame he got expelled for shagging some girl (and getting caught)....
(, Mon 30 Apr 2007, 15:52, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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