My Ex...
(always starts with that doesn't it)
Left me for a guy with all the physical features of a mole on a drug rehab course.

He couldn't afford the ticket to last years Download festival and so I taught him a well founded lesson by repeatedly fucking his new girlfriend who he was SURE wouldnt ever cheat on him.

Chris, your band is shit, she lied, I told the truth, I was fucking her for months before that as well. AND YOU BELIEVED EVERY LIE THAT POURED FROM HER MOUTH.! HAHAHAHAHA *cue strait jacket*.

Oh and making her horny by text without being there ALWAYS got my end off. Thanks.
(elfinpunk Touching Cloth Since, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 18:51, Reply)

I was
sat on the bus and the bloke sitting across from me is giving me a funny look.





So I shot him.
(littlenipple hate's bad grammar, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 18:30, Reply)

Oooh Shiny!
I work in the graphics dept of a print works. One of our directors has 2 faults - he is one of the most vain people i know, constantly combing his hair, and he is also a bit of a clueless nobber.

His first crime was on Comic Relief day earlier this year when 2 minging old women came in dressed as nuns from the front, but the back of their habits were cut away to reveal stockings and thongs. Most people gave them a quid or so (to get them out of their eyeline before they heaved), but if anyone was a bit slow, he would pipe up ' Come on you tight git, I've put 20 quid in'.
Nothing wrong there you may think........except he later put it in as an expenses claim!

Secondly, I personally have helped a client set up a monthly magazine, giving them loads of advice and technical help with software etc, and they recently celebrated their 50th issue and had a party at a local restaurant. I found out when they phoned up and during the conversation casually mentioned it was a shame i couldn't make it, and he had filled in for me.

Utter Cnut! He hadn't said a word to me! What makes it worse for me is that he has absolutely nothing to do with them work wise.

When the magazine artwork next came in, there he was, on the 'party pics' page, queuing up for his free feast. This displeased me somewhat, and unluckily for him i did something i shouldn't have.

As i work in graphics i am fairly comfortable with photoshop. 5 minutes later there he was, all his hair missing, and a nice shiny 'Right Said Fred' style in its place. I printed it out, with the intention of pinning it up on a notice board while he was out. However, just as i did, another Director came up, saw it, pissed himself and ORDERED me to sneak it in the magazine. It was duly printed, and over 15,000 have just been sent for distribution.

The best thing about the deed, is that he lives in the area where it is distributed free to every door, and if he does go bonkers, i have a written statement from Director2 saying it was all his idea.

Never piss off a 'shopper who has access to your image!

I reckon he will actually cry!
(turtles head is touching cloth poked a dwarf on the forehead at, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 18:23, Reply)

I'll get some more mileage out of this...
The Karma Fairy really did love me for this:

www.b3ta.com/questions/wehavetotalk/post77096/
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Thu 26 Apr 2007, 18:14, Reply)

Gun Club
I used to work Sundays at a gun club, firing off clay pigeons for shotgun-wielding toffs to shoot at.

One joker would think nothing of firing off your packed lunch, walkman, anything you owned, and laughing like a twat when it got blown to pieces.

Revenge: his brand new leather jacket that cost him a couple of hundred notes went over the top, and unthinking, he jumped up and chased after it.

KA-BOOM! KA-BOOM!

Both barrels. That certainly showed him.

They missed, the useless bastards.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 18:13, Reply)

She left.
With a fat man. And had a baby.

I hear they argue all day every day, and she can't cope with motherhood. I have no need of showing her. She's showed her fucking self. They just got engaged. I love being right :D
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 18:10, Reply)

It was way back when.
Some time in the late 70s. Down the lane to the woods where my friends and I would go and play Star Wars lived the nastiest bunch of bullies you can imagine. My friends and I are about 8 or 9, they were all of 14 or 15. But they were bastards. For example, they used to chase us on their bikes and punch us as they rode past. Think 'Human Polo' but with them on bikes and us as the balls.

They were horrid. Really unpleasant. We had to do something.

I should mention at this point that the biggest and nastiest bully was a bit of a Heather Mills. Not that he was pretty and earned a mint from divorcing a legendary pop star modelling, more along the lines of the fact he had a false leg.

Yep, a 14 year old bully with a wooden leg. He probably felt bitter or something. And it wasn't even a cool false leg with wires and tubes and shiny metal bits. It was shit. there was no knee, it was too long for him and it probably chaffed his ball sack or something. It was a fucking tree attached to his hip.

Dear reader, you can probably guess where I'm going with this...

One summer afternoon it was hot as hell and my friends and I just had to go to the woods and fight the Imperial Stormtroopers in our heads. But we could see the 4 bullies of the apocalypse on their bikes at the end of the lane (yep, I'll give him his due, Death could pedal his bike with one leg. Impressive, if a bit lopsided).

I decided that I'd be oppressed no longer and made off down the lane, Alex and Louise - for we had our own Princess Leia - were frantically shouting for me to come back, to turn around, to not throw my life away so needlessly at such a young age. But I continued on.

Their shouting had alerted the 4 bullies to my approach. They blocked my path and the leader hobbled over to me. Slightly Piratically I might add. He stood a good foot higher than me (it would have been just 6 inches if his false leg had only fitted him properly) and I was close to weeing myself with fear.

"Where are you going?"
"I'm going to The Valley of the Dinosaurs to play Star Wars"
"No, No you're not."
"Bloody well AM!"

* K I C K *

I kicked his false leg as hard as I fucking well could. Putting every ounce of effort and weight behind it. Needless to say he went down like a cheap whore.

He couldn't get up. He looked up at me like a Beetle on it's back and... cried. He begged me to leave him alone. He pleaded for me not to 'beat up a cripple' (his words, I remember them clearly). I looked at his mates, defying them to come to his aid. I needn't have bothered with the grimace, The didn't notice they were laughing so hard! We were given a wide berth from then on and managed to defeat the Imperial Stormtroopers in the woods every time we fought them!

Bullies 0 - Rebel Alliance 1

Length? It went all the way from his hip to the ground.
(Woodgie is back, but for how long?, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 18:10, Reply)

Revenge is a funny thing
At various points in my life I have been dicked over and I have never taken revenge because short of stabbing the antagonist(s) in the throat, there's usually not much I could have done about it.

One occasion does spring to mind though. 12 years ago I was having a particularly miserable time in 6th form college, my 'friends' had decided to ostracise me, I dropped one of my A-levels and the remaining 3 were going badly. My peers, my teachers, and worst of all my parents wrote me off as a loser dropout.

The mocks were coming up, these exams determined the grades you got to put on your uni application form and so basically determined the rest of your life. I was staring into the void, I was 17 years old and I honestly thought I was without a future, and so did everybody else.

So I thought "Fuck It", I’m not going to let a piss-poor period of my life and a bunch of cunts who I will shortly never see again decide the rest of my life, I’m going to cheat. Why not? I had never cheated at anything in my life and I knew that if I was caught I was fucked, but I was fucked anyway so I might as well take the chance.

So this was my revenge on the school and all the cunts that had made it their business to make my life miserable, I was going to pass and go to uni any way I could. So cheat I did, with excellent results, which allowed me to apply for the course and university I wanted. My teachers started showing an interest in me again, my parents were proud and my peers at school...well, they still treated me like shit but I wasn’t labelled as a dropout anymore.

The revenge aspect of cheating really kicked in when a number of my antagonists failed their mocks and got kicked off some of their courses or even out of school. The next summer I got the grades I needed (strange that) and I must admit to a certain feeling of satisfaction when I found out even more of my antagonists had failed.

As a funny side note, months later I popped into school to pick up my exam certificates and my old biology teacher introduced me to the new 6th formers as "a school success story" with real pride in his voice. Twunt.
( Colonel Dracula Two manky hookers and a racist dwarf, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 18:08, Reply)

sticky
At the age of seven, me and my half albino friend (yes, thats right!)would regularly go back to his house after school. Problem was, at the end of his garden where we liked to play, was a fence.

Other side of that fence was a lot of bigger boys who would spend their time smashing up my half albino mates fence.

So we get a bucket, and collect up every bit of cat shit, dog shit, mud, mouldy fruit and veg from the compost heap, and put it into the bucket. After Pissing and shitting in it ourselves we stir it up, and leave it and a chair by the fence and carry on playing.

When the big boys start kicking the ball at the fence, we start to mouth them off (as much as a seven year old can). Leaving their ball alone they promptly come over to the fence and start kicking it. Needless to say, we tip it over them. The battle is won and they smell of shit.


Apologies for length and obvious outcome.
(po po, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 18:06, Reply)

a bit like Sammi Evil Nice's story
but instead of milk it was orange squash and instead of almond oil it was my very own baby gravy

i kinda regret not telling him but i and his former house mates all avoid him like the plague

i did however tell everyone else in the house (there were 8 of us in a 7 bedroom house)

i bet he loved it though
( Reme Philips laid an epic dump on, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 17:54, Reply)

the diceman
When I was around 17 or so, a group of friends had established a Dungeons & Dragons game, which being a fully paid up nerd, I joined. Already a member of this jolly little gang was a fellow I shall call Paul, for that is his name. Now this Paul character was an insufferably arrogant know it all, and because he was a goth* (v.1 circa 1985) thought he was the epitome of fashion, and chose regularly to belittle my sense of style - same now as always, jeans and a t, baggy fit thanks very much, I was and remain, defiantly anti-fashion.

Eventually I grew tired of being dissed by this fool, and during one evenings play, decided to mount an attack on his character. Now Paul had been nurturing this particular character for some time, and essentially being a humourless pompous twat would, I thought be wound up if i started fecking with him.
Plan was, deal out a few hits, do a little damage and leave it at that. However, a short time later I seemed to have executed said character. oops. killed by a noob. not good.
The fucker tried to get me in a headlock :-)
Which didn't work. I'm a muscular nerd.

*don't get me wrong, i have nothing against teh goth per se, i just don't like arrogant fuckwits.
(bollox, not again, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 17:47, Reply)

they said I couldn't control
my addiction to indecent exposure.

I showed them.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 17:41, Reply)

MORRISONS!!
There was a man, who for the sake of authenticity, we shall call Mick, for twas his moniker, who loved practical jokes.

loved em.

Many a member of staff (for there was much cameraderie betwixt the blokes working there in my day) recieved a spray from the hose or a rotten pear attack, or even a dunk in a bin of fish guts/water.oh the hilarity.


It came time for him to leave our hallowed store, and 'lo, a payback was inevitable.

A new car had been purchased by himself, and it was shiny, and treated like a firstborn.

It should have had a target painted on it.

We waited for him to venture to DAS TOILETTEN (random Deutsch) and lifted the keys from his jacket.

icing sugar was added to the vents, and then they were pointed at the drivers seat and placed on 'full'.

The radio was put on LOUD!!!!!!

A contraceptive placed over the exhaust (tail pipe for the yanks)

and then the car was wrapped expertly with around several hundred layers of clear pallet wrap.

It took him hours to get it off his car, with out scraping the paint.
Then he got in, gave us a wave and started the engine.

The look on his face was priceless, as he was covered in icing sugar, assualted around the ears with RADIO RAVE (tm) and a massive bang from the back end of the car.

He was fuming, but laughed it all off jovially enough.

We certainly taught him!!
(UnstableDan Bah, Humbug! ooooh, humbugs, nyom!, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 17:26, Reply)

they said I couldn't
fit an entire bag of rubber bands on my penis at the same time.

Who's laughing now?

Not me, I'm in considerable pain.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 17:25, Reply)

people on my computer course
constantly made fun of me.

The lecturer told the whole class "Patrick can't even send a simple email" and everyone laughed at me.

I showed them. I showed all of them.

Signed,
Solicitor Patrick Obasanjo,
Lagos, Nigeria.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 17:22, Reply)

That taught her to get smart with me!
I used to work in a SPAR-type convenience shop.

I had a queue of customers that I was serving when a woman walked in smoking a cigarette.

This was 5 years ago - I would have thought that it was fairly obvious that it was no longer acceptable to smoke in shops, but no; in she came, puffing away.

"Could you put that out, or take it outside please?" Said I.

"Why? Doesn't say I can't smoke in here on the door." Says Chavella.

"..." Says I, stumped, as I realised we actually _didn't_ have a no smoking sign on the door anymore.

"Besides, you sell cigarettes don't you?" She said.

"That may well be the case, madam," I said,

"But I should point out we also sell condoms."
( IHaveABadFeelingAboutThis most likely working from home on, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 17:10, Reply)

The Bitches Upstairs
Whilst at university, my best friend and I lived in a small block of flats below four girls who claimed to be our friends. A bigger bunch of back-stabbing bitches I have yet to meet; the final straw came when they were in their kitchen moaning about us, not realising we could hear them quite clearly due to the rather shoddy insulation in the building.

We decided to capitalise on a discovery we had made by chance the day before - the landlord had been into the building and had accidentally left the cupboard containing all the electric controls for the flats open. We'd pushed it to, but not locked it.

We had to work out which control belonged to their flat, easily done by flicking the switch and hearing them scream as they were plunged into darkness. We turned the switch back on and planned our revenge.

The next morning we were going to drive back home for the Easter break, knowing that the girls upstairs were planning to spend the first week of the holiday doing their essays (yes, that's how fecking sad they were). We cleaned the flat, packed our bags and left for a month and the last thing we did was flick the switch off. Bye!

When I got back a month later, one of the girls was reduced to tears as she told us about how all their freezer food had defrosted and that they hadn't been able to watch tv (a big deal for them, believe me). They'd called our (rather bad-tempered) landlord, who'd come round and shouted at them for turning off the switch downstairs themselves and wasting his time.

This would have been enough for us if we hadn't heard them bitching about us a few days later (after all the sympathy we'd shown for their electrical trauma). Sadly for them, it seemed that the cupboard downstairs could be opened with creative knife use and their recently re-stocked freezer once again wept onto their kitchen floor. The landlord threatened to evict them. It was a joyous time.

One of the greatest highlights was seeing my flatmate opening the cupboard and operating the trip switch using a tissue 'so as not to leave fingerprints'. Fabulous.

Another friend told me I'd be going to hell. I told her I don't really mind as all my dearest friends will be there too.
( thealternativefact, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 17:03, Reply)

I renamed the QOTW 'Your Revenge Stories'
That'll teach em'!
( scoshi pretending to diet since, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 16:59, Reply)

Repost, but very fitting I think
One of my mates occasionally has too many when we go to the pub, and rather than leave his car there, has the nasty habit of driving home trolleyed. One night he did it when I was staying at his, and to this day he swears he'll never do it again.

You see, the next morning after a heavy session at the local he was still in bed nursing the mother of all hangovers. I'd got up a few hours before him due to my not being totally wankered the night before, and happened to catch the local news. It turned out that some old duffer had been knocked over and killed by a hit and run driver the night before. Well...the opportunity was just too tempting.

So with a spring in my step I almost ran down to the town center. I had three stops on my list:
The butchers (Pigs hearts a free if you ask nicely)
The hairdressers (They look at you funny but they'll give you a bit of hair if you ask)
The Off-Licence (You still have to buy a local paper)

So back I go to his house. The coast is clear. Good. No going back now. After little more than 2 minutes my master piece is ready for action. The corner of his car looks like an Iraqi. Its doused in pig blood and little bits of flesh and hair, and the headlight is smashed. I paused a bit before smashing it, but decided that it would make it look more real, and wouldn't cost too much to replace.

An hour later up he gets, still half asleep. He glances at the perfectly placed paper but thinks nothing of it. Then about half-an-hour later he goes out to his car. The look of slow realisation dawning on his face has he realised what must have happened was absolutely priceless, and worth any amount that the headlight would cost.

Then it reached a new height of funny for me. He started almost crying saying that he'd have to turn himself in. At this point most people would have stopped, but not me...no way.
I offered to go with him, and let him get all the way to the front door of the police station before I told him the truth.
( Furness, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 16:55, Reply)

Hitcher
We picked up a guy as we were driving to Aspen, Colorado. He was a bit of a bully, but we taught him a lesson when we put a red hot chilli in his burger. How were we to know that he had a stomach ulcer? We handed him his pills but he just died, so we ran off.
(Fothermucker, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 16:53, Reply)

Stupid fat lodger
I used to have this stupid fat lodger a few years ago, and while he was basically a lovely sweet and fantastically generous guy, he had two main drawbacks. He wasn't really housetrained , so never did and cleaning or washing up, but far far far worse, he was a snorer.
Now Mr Steve mansions, (or Casa Esteban as we like to call it) is a big old Victorian terraced job, and there was a good 30 feet between Fatboy's room and mine, yet his snoring would keep me awake at night. Sometimes he would punctuate this with odd shouts and cries in his sleep. Given that he was a Roleplayer at the weekends his dream-shouts tended to sound like the Lord of the Rings and Hawk the Slayer. Not great!
So after about six months of this I decided to take action, and devised a cunning plan. Over a few beers that night I told him about his sleep-talking habit, and how it and his chronic snoring were going to put off any ladies he managed to lure to bed. (He was the original 30 year old virgin.) Fatboy attempts to make light of this, but his curiosity got the better of him, and he asked what he'd been talking about.
I told him he'd been syaing things like:
"Oh Mum, that's fantastic, yes, Mum, you're the best. Oh god Mum, do me tonight."

Fatboy goes purple and flees the pub. I guess he had the last laugh though, since he never did anything about his snoring/sleep apneoaeoaoeioi(stop it, you can't spell and your just making it up now.) Eventually he moved out and I lost the £400 a month rent, but at least I get a decent nights kip now.
(Mr Steve is jobless and fancyfree!, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 16:49, Reply)

I'm a programmer
and just for fun I coded up an autobot which would spam QOTW with banal stories about students stealing each other's milk.

Later I became a salesman for Dairy Crest and now I live in a chateau in the Dordogne and drive two Lamborghinis.
(><(((">, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 16:46, Reply)

Deep Heat & Tiger Balm
Football. Changing rooms. Twat in shower...

Obviously the inside of his pants (front and back) were coated with tiger balm.

He screamed. And cried. For hours.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Thu 26 Apr 2007, 16:42, Reply)

Painful memory
As a kid in the 1980's I once ate several boxes of those tiny, tangy crunchy grape and strawberry flavoured sweets in one go. It gave me really bad stomach ache.

I fell victim to Revenge of the Nerds.

*sorry*
( abefroman skating on the thin life of modern life on, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 16:39, Reply)

Ginger error
We used to have a horrid little 'friend' with a veritable shock of wiry ginger hair - disgusting, yes I know.

One time he accidently left his schoolbag out in the park after being prodded with pointy sticks all night, so we decided to teach him a lesson.
We all took in turns, at least six people, to lay fresh shiny logs inside, as well as a healthy portion of urine for good measure, all over his ginger schoolbooks and lunchbox. We left it there for him to collect once he had realised his unfortunate error.

An interesting postscript to this tale, is that a passing old lady must have found the offending bag, peered inside and read his ginger name tag, and decided the best course of action would be to take a bag full of excrement to my other friend's Mum & Dad's sweet shop over the road.

"I think this belongs to a friend of your son"


I have a small penis
(wrigglesworth, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 16:28, Reply)

My sister
poured bleach into my goldfish bowl once so I put her terrapin upside down in the middle of the road.
( Kris Fucking Kristofferson, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 16:26, Reply)

Maz :-)
Mate of mine :-

Playing football pulls a muscle in his groin just before half time.

Being a real trooper, and wanting to play on, at half time asks if anybody has some "deep heat" (hot muscle rub cream). Is passed a plain white tube, smears the cream all over the damaged muscle and limps on to play the second half.

At the end of the match he limps off. Commenting "that deep heat stuff is crap, "

The response:-

"sorry Maz, that was hemorrhoid cream!"
(bigdave40, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 16:25, Reply)

Basic
Crofton Junior School, sometime in the 70s. Here comes the school bully, a big ginger twat with a Bobby Charlton haircut and buck teeth. As usual he's supplementing his pocket money by extorting the little kids dinner money. Gets to me, and I am outraged at his bad behaviour, and before he even starts with his threat spiel I thumped him in the gob. Down like a sack of potatoes, minus one buck tooth. Claret everywhere, and my fist hurting like anything.

Certainly the first time I ever hit anyone, though sadly not the last time I've had to.

Despite being a huge bastard he avoided me for the next year or so, until he left. I was scared shitless in case he got the drop on me the next time.
(Mr Steve is jobless and fancyfree!, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 16:24, Reply)

Well that taught him
Friend of a friend, had a greenhouse, full of nice just ready to pluck tomatoes. Comes down one morning, the door of the greenhouse was open. Half the tomatoes missing..

He calls the police immediately. Spent the rest of the day at home waiting for a police officer to turn up.. Typically, by 9pm no police. He was REALLY annoyed by this point. So he wired the metal door handle of the greenhouse to the mains (Uk 240V AC).

The following morning all was well, tomatoes were all ok. So he went to work.

Got home from work to find two police officers on his doorstep asking questions about an injured (electrocuted) officer, wanting to know how the greenhouse door handle had got wired to the mains.
(bigdave40, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 16:17, Reply)

I used to get the piss taken a lot at primary school
As I was a bit of a spastic child with no coordination (and they also thought I was autistic). So I used to get bullied, beaten up, teased, etc and never really fought back.

Until my parents found out one day. My dad gave me the 'be a man, son' talk.

The next day, the school bully (Jason, I think his name was, at Ashmead Primary School in New Cross, London, in about '94) decided to have a go.

Except somehow, 7-year-old me managed to get him down on the floor, and kick him in the head.

And kick him again. And again. And again.

He was missing most of his teeth and his head was an odd shape, he also couldn't speak properly. He had to be taken away in an ambulance. He never came back to school.

And they never found out it was me.

That fucking showed the cunt. You wouldn't believe the amount of abuse I had to put up with from him and his mates.

I still hate him, 13 years later. I hope he's still sat in a wheelchair with his dribbling mong-face oozing spit. Fuck with the weird kid and that's what you get, let that be a lesson.

(Oh, and I turned out to be perfectly normal. Mostly...)
(Half of Stephen Fry's right buttock pissed on your dog on, Thu 26 Apr 2007, 16:16, Reply)