I Didn't Have The Foggiest!
I have relatives who live in Blackpool and so have visited the lovely (charvery) place many, many times throughout my life. I always used to stay with my Grandparents in my younger years and the best thing, without a doubt, was that Blackpool tower was visible from my temporary bedroom.

It started one day when I must have been about, ooooooh lets be generous and say, 5. I awoke one morning and looked out of my window full of expectation and, to my horror, Blackpool tower was gone! I raced downstairs and told my Grandad of my shocking discovery. He looked out of the window and 'ahhhh'ed in recognition. "They've taken it down to clean it son." he said, full of authority. Naturally my five year old mind never questioned his undoubted wisdom. After all he was ancient so he must know everything. He saw the sad look on my face and so cheered me up by telling me they'd been doing it for ages so they were really good at it and it'd be back up before tea time. When tea time came around I'd forgotten all about it but just before we ate my Grandad whipped back the net curtains with a 'tadaaaahhh' and, lo and behold, Blackpool tower was back up. Yay!

This happened numerous times over the course of my childhood, amazing me greatly every time, but it all came crashing down when I was about 13. Walking down the streets of Blackpool with my older brother he suddenly stopped and said "Bloody hell! Blackpool tower's disappeared!" I shook my head at the naive fool and looked at where it should be. I think I'd made it as far as "Don't worry, they'll have just taken it down to clea..." when I saw the vague outline of it through the fog and realisation suddenly dawned. Being by the coast, it gets foggy pretty regularly in Blackpool. My brother was looking at me like the idiot I was, not expecting an answer to his pathetic joke. He gleefully retold the whole episode to my Grandad when we arrived home who, thankfully, was laughing too much to give me a clip round the ear for calling him a total bastard.

The best bit was just last year. It was roughly five years since my Grandad had died and I was walking round a foggy Blackpool with my Godson sitting on my shoulders. Suddenly he piped up with "Why isn't the tower there today?". "Oh they've just taken it down to clean it son." I replied with the biggest smile on my face.
( Gleeballs is mostly made out of chocolate and hate., Thu 5 Jan 2006, 20:39, Reply)

In school once, years ago
Sitting around in the classroom at registration before the teacher came in, everyone was chattering as usual. My friend decided to pull a bit of a trick on us, and declared, "Do you know that if you say orange really slowly, it sounds like the word gullible?" Thing is she'd said this in one of those silences you sometimes get when for some reason everyone stops talking at the same time, so everyone had heard her. Suddenly the whole class erupts in a chorus of

"Oooooooooooooooooorrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnngggggggeeeeeeeee"

which was absolutely fantastic as it was. What made it even better was that just as everyone started saying it the teacher walked in, to a classroom of teenagers who for some reason seemed to be greeting her with the word orange said as slowly as possible.

She was rather confused.
(therocker, Fri 6 Jan 2006, 12:25, Reply)

too many to tell: i used to be a bartender, after all.
i used the fake petition prank a few times to alleviate boredom. i think the best one was a petition demanding that the city of toronto not change the name of yonge street (big long 'famous' road, of all stupid things) to pierre elliot trudeau boulevard (probably our best known prime minister of the last century). nothing gets the grump into people like a political teasejob, so i had three pages of signatures in a couple of hours. of course, i was working day bar then, and men who start drinking at 1:00 pm on a regular basis are probably not tough to dupe.

back in university i got a job as a sperm donor (yes, it pays rather well), and several acquanitances got all frothily jealous and applied to the program. they were silly enough to tell me when they applied, so i phoned one of them a few days before i knew they'd be calling him. poor walt...


"hello, this is dr. prankmonster from the fertility clinic. is this walter bimbodink?"

"yes."

"good. i'm sorry to tell you that you were not accepted as a donor, but i do have some questions about your donation. have you ever worked in a nuclear power plant?"

"what?! no!" (quavering voice)

"really? how interesting. maybe your family lived under a large grouping of power lines for many years. is that the situation?"

"god, no! what's going on? what did you find?!"

"well mr. bimbodink, your sperm is rather unusual. in fact, you have the most unusual sperm i've ever seen and i've worked in fertility clinics for over thirty years. you don't have a very old microwave oven, do you? one that's broken some and could be leaking?"

"no! no! no! nothing like that! what's wrong with my sperm?!" (clear panic at this point)

"calm down, please sir, i'm sure there's nothing wrong, but we would like you to bring us another few samples, please. don't use a plastic cup, though -- do you have, say, a couple of metal thermoses? we need to protect our staff. you have most unusual sperm, some have two heads, others are just masses of tails."

"oh my god! yes, i can do that. will it help me? am i sick?"

"you may be, sir, we'll have to run some more tests. no sexual activity for you for a while, though, other than masturbating for us. we need a minimum of three samples, preferably by the end of the day, by tomorrow at 10:00 am at latest. and please tell reception the nature of your sample and why precautions are required to ensure safety."

"ok." (weeping sounds)


poor walt. i think if i were gullible enough to fall for this, i'd have difficulty jacking off three times in a short span of time while being worried i was spiderfuckingman. i phoned him later to tell him everything was fine, but i would have paid a hundred butter tarts to have seen him arrive at the clinic with three thermoses containing his semen and asking for them to be handled carefully because they were radioactive.
( postbear has metal knees, Wed 11 Jan 2006, 7:14, Reply)

The Mars Bar Guy
When I was a young lad of 14, I had my first proper girlfriend. Some of my mates were impressed because she was in the year above me, but because her birthday was (and I suppose still is) in September, she was 16.

One day she had the house to herself for the weekend and I told my parents that I was staying at a friend's house. Now, we'd already commenced in the act of (to quote Stusut) "Jimmynudging" a few weeks previously so that was nothing new. What you have to bear in mind is that that the GF had a mind of filth. Pure filth. And I loved it.

So, we are engaging in sexual acts, and for no apparent reason, there was a chocolate bar at her bedsides. I think it would be a laugh to shove it up her.

Now, that's not a great story. It isn't really a great thing to do. And it made a chocolaty caramel mess. But what happened next was amazing.

She had decided to tell one of my friends about it via MSN Messenger. This soon turned to her telling all my friends about it. The story spread through my school faster than the flu. Everyone in my year knew about it.

"Do you know that Wonderbrawl?"
"No. Never heard of him."
"You know, the Mars Bar Guy"
"Oh yeah he's a ugly twat sexy bloke"

People who I had never seen before were coming up to me and asking about it. I was famous throughout the kingdom...or at least in my year group at school. I guess I kind of enjoyed the attention and liked the fact that lots of people knew who I was.

A few months later when I had a new girlfriend who also didn't go to my school, she told me a story.

"Apparently there's this bloke at your school who poked a girl with a Mars Bar"

I couldn't escape it. What made it even worse was when Mars Bars changed their slogan to Pleasure You Can't Measure. A day didn't go past where it wasn't mentioned at school. I was beginning to tire of it.

I left school at the end of year 11 and moved to another to do my A-levels. And bear in mind, that this is a good 20 months after the incident happened. One person knew that I did the Mars Bar thing, and everyone in the sixth form had already heard the story- They were amazed when they saw me in the flesh. People came up and started talking to me about it, which I guess broke the ice and quickly found lots of people to talk to. One set of girls even bought me a Mars Bar and left it in my bag-box as a joke. How I cringed as I set my eyes upon it.

Even now I am reminded of it. Four years after what is now known as "the Mars Bar incident" People still ask me about it, and now I am not as embarassed to tell the story.

That is how I was the urban legend. Apparently people still talk about it nowadays in my old school. "There was once a bloke who put a Mars Bar up......" I'm sure each time the tale is retold, it is given a new exaggeration or a new angle.

Now, I live in the aftermath of fame. I have had my fifteen minutes and the baton has been passed on. All I say is this: If ever you get the urge to shove a confectionary up your bird's love tunnel, then don't choose something with a tagline like Pleasure You Can't Measure

Apologies for Length - at least it wasn't a Funsize Mars Bar

/Edit: I went out on Thursday (same night that I posted this answer) night in Revolution, Leeds and this bloke comes up to me: "Hey You're the guy who did the mars bar thing? My friend showed me a picture of you and explained the story"

It still haunts me!
(wonderbrawl was pronounced dead on, Thu 5 Jan 2006, 20:08, Reply)

Mrs Scribble once asked...
...if she deletes the Internet Explorer icon on her desktop what happens?

Me: You delete the entire Internet!
Her: What really?
Mate: YES! When did you do it?
Her: Wednesday afternoon, about 3pm!
Me & Mate: We did notice everything went really slow! What did you do then!
Her: Well fortunately I undeleted it from my Recycle bin so now it's back on my desktop!
Me & Mate: Phew! That was close, you could have lost everything.


...5 minutes of pindropping silence before laughter ensues and I get a beating from the wife.

Worth it though.
(Scribble, Thu 5 Jan 2006, 21:04, Reply)

Famous Schooner Hotel
I shit you not.

www.livingtv.co.uk/mosthauntedseries3/loc_schoonerhotel.html

I quote from the website from those gullible dipsticks on Most Haunted.

"The Hotel itself is a listed 17th Century Coaching Inn and has been the hub of Alnmouth village for the past 300 years. Notable persons who've stayed in the hotel include Charles Dickens, Basil Rathbone, Douglas Bader and even King George III."

And that would be bollocks then as I was one of the people in the bar when we made up these stories. The Douglas Bader one was made up when we found a plastic leg from a shop dummy and convinced some gullible tourists that it was left behind by Douglas Bader. Then how did he get home then you thick twats? Hop?

And, again from the website:

"Its reputation as place of hauntings is well deserved. It has been twice awarded the award for The Most Haunted Hotel in Great Britain by The Poltergeist Society and is reputed to have over 60 individual ghosts."


Errr - there's no such thing as the Poltergeist Society. I know 'cos I printed out the fucking certificates that hang on the wall. John (the owner) couldn't get the fonts right. Go on - Google "Poltergeist Society" and see what comes up.

Cheers all - whooooooooooooooooo
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Thu 5 Jan 2006, 17:41, Reply)

Love Gloves
Right, this is an urban legend created by the following events at my parents house, it's a long one - so apologies in advance as I need to sow a bit of background foliage. I will also omit the names to protect the guilty, although this is probably a futile effort as I'm sure there are a lot of people who have already worked out who I am already through previous posts.


1996 - I was working as a DJ in a private members club in Cheshire at the weekends - and working as a order picker for Marks and Spencer Deliveries during the day (when I could be bothered). The packing job is where the orange sticky coated gloves come into the story, as these were standard issue to help you move the boxes and other gubbins.

My friend from Birmingham had asked my parents if he could stay with them for a couple of weeks whilst he was doing a contracting job for Railtrack timetable changes.

My Sister and her 3 kids were also living with my parents after a messy seperation, so there was my bedroom and one sofa spare for sleeping.

So there's the background.

Cut to Saturday night - I was behind the decks, pissed as usual, playing bloody Tubthumper, Born Slippy and The Levellers for the usual pissed crusties with my mate from Birmingham and my other mate from Hull getting noisily drunk together by the bar. Around midnight, Hull mate comes up and joins me in the DJ box saying that Birmingham mate has pulled and is exploring some girls Tonsils and mammaries.

Packing up at the end of the night, there was no sign of of the Brummie, so we assumed that he had got very lucky and gone home with the girl - so Hull mate and I went back to my parents place to have a smoke. Brummie was there on my bed with girl with the lights on and curtains open for all to see as I got home, so being the understanding bloke I am, left him to it and Hull mate and I rolled a couple of fat ones and went for a flesh shredding run off our tits through a corn field.

We got back about an hour later - Brummie and friend were still shagging like dogs in my room - and as I had pulled an overtime shift at work (double time) the next morning - Hull mate slept on the sofa and I slept under a blanket, under the kitchen table - well, more passed out than slept.

I got up the following morning at 7am after 4 hours sleep and crept into my now stinking room to get my steelies and gloves for work - but in the gloom could only find one of the gloves so left quickly so not to be late and to drop Hull mate off at the train station.

I got home that afternoon to be greeted with extreme hostility from my family and have my Father shout at me that Brummie was not welcome anywhere near their house ever again...

What had transpired after my blackout and going to work was this:

The shagging in my room reached a peak and the noises became animalistic, as did the banging and thumping. This woke up my sister and her kids in the rooms across the hall. Then things quietened down for about 10 minutes before they decided to continue their exploits in the shower, which woke my parents up. This cycle continued apparently for hours.

When things had died down the following morning, I had gone to work and Brummie had left the house with friend, my family sat down to a full cooked breakfast - which was suddenly interupted by Brummie bursting through the kitchen door stark bollock naked, he didn't break his stride, walked past my agog family to the sink, filled the kettle, waited for it boil, farted and scratched his arse, then walked out, tackle swinging without even looking at them. The loud bedroom antics continued again just afterwards and then they vanished from the house.

Brummie was not seen for 4 days. Then on Thursday he turned up with a bunch of flowers looking very sheepish and wanting to apologise to my parents. He never said where he went to, he was just apologetic for getting "a bit too overenthusiastic".

Cut to a year later 1997, I was in the Brunswick pub in Crewe having a few scoops when Brummie's former boss from the Railtrack contract comes up to me and mid way through our chat drops THE bombshell at the top of his voice;
"I believe you're missing a glove!?", I looked at him in confusion not knowing what he was talking about. "When ******** stayed with you last year, one of your orange work gloves went missing didn't it! And you've never found it!".
How he knew this small detail then came pouring out amidst a lot of other sordid details of that night, again at the top of his pissed voice.

Brummie's missing 4 days and sudden departure from my parents house was due to him being in hospital - because after the morning cuppa and sudden re-introduction of fluid to their systems causing their rutting glands to start again - he allowed her to fist him up the arse with my orange sticky work glove. This in turn had gone wrong and he had her drive him to the hospital where he stayed for 4 days.

The feeling of disgust and horror that washed over me that this had happened in my room made me feel sick, as well as the sheer shuddering disgust of even contemplating the act.

Cut to the following year 1998 - I was in a pub in Nantwich having a quiet drink when I overheard a story being told by a group of students which suddenly made me sit up and tune in just in case my family name was mentioned - it was the story you have just trawled through - ending with the "friend letting the slag fist him with a cricket glove and him having to go to hospital for a month".

Chinese whispers - don't you just love them.
(Catchag "You know!....For Kids!", Tue 10 Jan 2006, 16:39, Reply)

Chain email related urban legends.
Following a large amount of pointless chain emails, I've seen this doing the rounds lately. I think it sums up a lot of the popular scaremongering legends perfectly.

Hello everybody.

My heartfelt appreciation goes out to all of you who have taken the time and trouble to send me "forwards" over the past 12 months.
Thank you for making me feel safe, secure, blessed and healthy.

Extra thanks to whoever sent me the email about rat crap in the glue on envelopes - because I now have to go get a wet towel every time I need to seal an envelope.

Also, I scrub the top of every can I open for the same reason.

Because of your genuine concern, I no longer drink Coca Cola because I know it can remove toilet stains, which is not exactly an appealing characteristic.

I no longer check the coin return on pay phones because I could be pricked with a needle infected with AIDS.

I no longer use cancer-causing deodorants even though I smell like a water buffalo on a hot day.

I no longer go to shopping malls because someone might drug me With a perfume sample and rob me.

I no longer eat KFC because their "chickens" are actually Horrible mutant freaks with no eyes or feathers.

I no longer worry about my soul because at last count, I Have 363,214 angels looking out for me.

Thanks to you, I have learned that God only answers my prayers if I forward an email to seven of my friends and make a wish within five minutes.

I no longer have any savings because I gave it to a sick girl on the internet who is about to die in the hospital (for the 1,387,258th time).

I no longer have any money at all in fact - but that will change once I receive the $15,000 that Microsoft and AOL are sending me for participating in their special on-line email program.

Yes, I want to thank you all so much for looking out for me that I will now return the favour!

If you don't send this email to at least 144,000 people in the next 7 minutes, a large pigeon with a wicked case of diarrhoea will land on your head at 5:00 PM (GMT) this afternoon. I know this will occur because it actually happened to a friend of my next door neighbour's ex-mother-in-law's second husband's cousin's beautician.
( Sylia Stingray is pilfering the biscuits on, Wed 11 Jan 2006, 13:39, Reply)

ghosts
I work with this bloke, and although he's OK and means well, lets just be kind and say he's not exactly quick on the uptake. Anyway one time I was working in a different office when I realised I could control the printer in my office i share with this guy from the other location I was bored rigid at.

So out came the Word Processor and i typed out "I am the ghost of the office, I can see everything you are doin, I'm watching you and following you mwahahahaha" or something to that effect, and hit print. Come on surely no one could fall for that I thought.

I get in the next day and the printout was there sitting on his desk, I decided to play the innocent and ask what it was. He told me how the printer had started going nuts and this had churned out and at first he thought someone was winding him up but as no one admitted it he started to freak out. So i made up some crazy story on the spot about how an old worker had died after falling over and hitting his head on a printer, and theres rumours that people here noises near them and occasionally, the printers even jam! Surely he couldn't buy that i thought, but his face went white.

Another workmate came in clocked what was going on immediately, and with a straight face said "Its true you know, think about it, who else can use the printer in your room except you two, and J wasn't here yesterday was he?"

To this day he still thinks our printer is haunted by the ghost of someone who died in our office. I'll tell him one day it was a joke, maybe,.
(ruffdiamond, Thu 5 Jan 2006, 17:20, Reply)

Murder - Gallic Style.
I heard that popular Sattelite Dish Face looking singer Sophie Ellis Bextor was killed by a popular French Footballer.

Apparantley it was murder on Zidane's floor.


Just Fuck Off
(hoogie Original Cunt Horse Author, Fri 6 Jan 2006, 13:54, Reply)

the lefty conspiracy
Ok, this is a case of inventing a myth...

my first party in university, and two of my new found friends are having a conversation about mars bars. One friend, lets call him bob, has managed to convince another, lets call her beryll, that a new mars bar is being produced for left handed people.

You see, apparently left handed people can't open ordinary mars bar packaging. At this point bob convinces (right-handed) beryll to attempt opening a mars bar packet with her left hand... of course she finds this very difficult and is deeply concerned about the injustice of this phenomenon. The problem is, says bob, the new left handed mars bar will cost ten pence extra, because all the machines in the factory will have to run backwards. beryll is incensed and begins to rant and rave 'this is discrimination!' she wails.

So bob decides to take it one step further...

You see bob is left handed and so has a habit of smudging his writing, due to the european practice of writing from left to right. this, during his GCSEs was a problem. So, he tells beryll, since he is also jewish, he was given special permission to write his GCSE answers in hebrew, which flows from right to left... producing smudge free, legible writing, provided the marker can read hebrew in the first place of course. She laps it up... he didn't tell her till a week later.

Beautiful.

(first post, by the way... hi ho all!)
( litzigig, Tue 10 Jan 2006, 17:46, Reply)

You spin me right round baby
CDs and DVDs in Australia (or indeed, anywhere far south of the equator) have to go the other way around, and are therefore incompatible with UK/US/Canadian equipment.

Honest! Why? Well, surprisingly quite simple when you think about it. As we all know, manufacturing processes are never perfect, and so the discs are rarely perfectly circular. This imperfection results in significant wobbling when the discs are spun really fast -- something that the players hardware has to be able to correct for. Unfortunately, when the disc is spinning in the opposite direction to the earths rotation, the Coriolis effect induces instabilities that hardware of the player is unable to correct for (due to requiring third and higher order differential stability correction in the mechanical hardware), so therefore the player (and discs) have to be manufacturered to rotate in the direction /matching/ the spin of the earth in the region that the player is manufactured from.

This is why you can swap UK and US discs, but Australians can't use discs from the US/UK and vice-versa.
( duckbilledfattypuss full of fatty pussy duckness, Fri 6 Jan 2006, 0:56, Reply)

Many years ago
I discovered my then wife had been shagging most of the men in my village. I started a rumour that she was HIV+. That is all.
( Captn Hood-Butter is not dead yet., Wed 11 Jan 2006, 18:06, Reply)

Dad Facts
My dad reckons that if you tie a scarf round your head it indicates that you are a baptized Seikh. Is this true or is it just another turban legend ?
(I'M JACK MEADOWS, Fri 6 Jan 2006, 14:08, Reply)

Urban legends?
Once upon a time, there were two forum goers called Stusut and Legless. While Legless was an excellent and entertaining storyteller, he perhaps passed off one story too many as an actual experience, and destroyed the whole image (as there are only so many tales people will take about wanking gorillas, camping holidays involving nurses & sheep and film-esque narrow escapes from the fuzz involving motorbikes before becoming suspicious ).

A set of the fairies he supposedly hallucinated about in one of his stories stole his nads as punishment. May that be a lesson to you, children. He did, however, win the prize for appearing the most Best Of QOTWs, which although good, wasn't much of a replacement for his stolen testicles.

Stusut was just crap.
(Cheesecake Like a cake...But cheese, Thu 5 Jan 2006, 18:18, Reply)

tits
My mate who was always fairly bizarre, told me he once walked into his bathroom at home, and caught his mum shaving her tits.
(balboa, Thu 5 Jan 2006, 17:31, Reply)

Bomber in the lake
A couple of years ago me and a couple of other local scuba divers were asked by a local historical aviation group to survey a lake for them.
Local legend had it that in the 2nd World War a Hudson bomber had crashed in the deepest part of the lake which was said to be about 30 metres.We all turned up one Sunday morning complete with ropes, big torches, marker bouys and full dive kit (dry suits, twin cylinders etc.)
As we walked into the lake the water quickly came up to chest height - and stayed there. After about an hour and a half of splashing round all over the lake the deepest bit we found was just over 2 metres.
(Alf N. Safety - refusing you planning permission on, Wed 11 Jan 2006, 13:39, Reply)

room service
Friend of a friend - as ever - felt rather horny while staying in a hotel on business. After failing to get pr0n on the telly, he decided to give the old phone lines a call.

"Hello Sir, how can I help you," said the sexy voice.

"You can start by taking off your panties. I'm hot, horny and ready to blow," came the reply. "What do you think about that?"

"Not a lot Sir," came the reply. "You might do better if you dial 9 for an outside line..."

Sorry if already done.

Enjoy the length.
(Milkmelikeacow, Tue 10 Jan 2006, 17:51, Reply)

"If your hand is bigger than your face, you've got AIDS"
On hearing this urban legend, rather than checking myself for the virus in this manner in front of the crowd of bigger boys and receiving a punch in the face, I went home and checked in the bathroom mirror. My hand obscured my face... Oh no, I must have AIDS!

Cue me, by now one very frightened little boy, trying to fall asleep with a smile on my face so when my mum found me dead in the morning she wouldn't be too upset!
(gavD, Mon 9 Jan 2006, 17:04, Reply)

The old McDonalds semen in the mayo one
I heard it about the one near me a while back after it had been closed for the weekend for "health and safety reasons". Now, at the time, my boyfriend worked there, so I asked him about it. No way someone could spunk in the mayo, he said, it's thoroughly sealed until it gets squirted into the burgers with one of those polyfilla-type guns, and it would be impossible to have a sneaky shuffle into a burger due to lack of space and privacy in kitchens and on the counter. All well and good, I was relieved.
The reason why the place was shut all weekend? The smell from the open sewer in the kitchen was too bad. He took this picture on his phone to illustrate:

This sewer was frequently open while the place was serving food, not even 3ft from where they were cooking the burgers. Yuck.
( useful_idiot, Sat 7 Jan 2006, 19:56, Reply)

Manhood Hoopla
A intelluctually challenged girl at my old job once loudly asked "why do bagels have holes in the middle of them?" feeling a bit naughty I gave the reply that Bagels are so called because at Barmitzvahs the Jewish boy who is celebrating becoming a man has to lie down naked on the floor with an erect penis and the family crowd round him and then take turns to toss specially baked dough called "bagels" over the boys manhood, not unlike a "manhood hoopla". Any Bagels that land round the..ahem..."prize pole" are then eaten to celebrate the boys passing into manhood.

Despite the fact four people were laughing during the telling of this made-up tale, it didn't stop the girl coming back three days later, loudly calling me whats now known as a "James Blunt" and explaining that the previous night she had entertained her pub quiz mates with her new knowledge and was promptly laughed out of the pub and harrassed by a outraged Jewish couple.

She was and possibly still is one of the few gullable twats of the world.
(Anarchy Duck, Fri 6 Jan 2006, 14:40, Reply)

Fan death
Koreans have this insane belief that the electric fan is the deadliest household appliance. Every summer, many deaths are reported in the papers attributed to fan death.

If you fall asleep with the fan on and the windows closed, Koreans believe you will likely die.

How does this work? There are a number of theories:
-the fan on exposed skin will cause hypothermia
-the fan creates a vacuum around your face, causing you to suffocate
-the fan unmixes the air, separating it at a molecular level and pushing the oxygen away from your face
-the fan burns the oxygen itself
-and when they're cornered, "Koreans have a unique physiology which makes them prone to fan death while other races are unaffected"

I first heard it from my Korean boss, who warned me to keep a window open. Curious, I asked why. It led to me asking every Korean I knew, and they all said the same thing. I even asked a doctor, and he told me in very scientific terms how a fan can kill. And the people most likely to tell you, "No, that's total bullshit," the FAN MANUFACTURERS THEMSELVES, well, they make sure to include safety tips on the instruction manual so you will keep the window open.

My girlfriend insists that this is not superstition, and has basis in science, even though we've slept together with the fan on many, many times.

Okay, I never fell for it. Hope this isn't too off-topic. I just find it weird that an entire country would believe it and insist it's scientific. Then again, it's not so weird when you compare it to belief in the Jesus vampire.
(racetraitor has an alibi for, Fri 6 Jan 2006, 2:38, Reply)

you may find this shocking but...
one of the ways local newspapers beef up circulation in certain distribution areas is to have sightings of 'beasts'. Black beasts, cat-like beasts, big-cats whatever they call them, they co-incidentally make an appearance in times and locations suffering low sales (i.e. Jan/Feb in rural areas). You would be amazed how many people buy a paper when there may be a beast in their backyard.
The reason i know this was that i once had to 'enhance' a picture to 'highlight' one of these beasts whilst working on a local paper. To my shame i have since seen this picture repeated in reputable journals as 'clear evidence' of urban big-cats. I am a bad bad man.
( BadBadman saw an incorrect comma placement on, Thu 5 Jan 2006, 19:27, Reply)

Tube Bombings
Just after the London underground bombings I was in York waiting for a train to London when I bumped into an Arabic looking bloke and knocked some papers from his hands. So, being the helpful guy I am I picked them up for him. Arab guy was really grateful and leaned forward and said to me in a hushed whisper:

"If you're traveliing down to London today - don't!"

I felt a little scared and asked him and asked him:

"Why? Is there going to be another bombing?"

"No" says Arab bloke "Don't go cause it's shite!"

Ba-bom-tish!!
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Thu 5 Jan 2006, 17:26, Reply)

Ramadamadingdong
Some friends of mine were told that a scary bogeyman in the Middle East had super secret weapons that would kill us all in like 45 minutes and that only by war could we make peace. And Saddam's a Hitler. And something about terrorists.

And the suckers bought it! Duh.

And they'll fall for it all over again ... in Iran.
( calgacus Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynarae, Thu 5 Jan 2006, 16:46, Reply)

More printer ghosts
I set the status line of our printer to "Out of Coffee" as a laugh one Friday and went away for the weekend.

On Monday my boss was freaking out that something was wrong with the printer. So I set it to "Insert 10p to play" and waited. As soon as I heard the shout from over by the printers, I changed it back to the default "OK" and never changed it again.

He still goes over to check that the printer is behaving and I've never seen the need to enlighten him.
( chthonic, Thu 5 Jan 2006, 17:40, Reply)

Jack Daniels....

Bourbon legend


*salutes*


.
(Xyphious : Sinkin' Gin since '85, Mon 9 Jan 2006, 17:16, Reply)

Pick up a penguin
My sis was serving pints in the pub and talking to a punter. When she asked him what he did he told her that he picks up penguins at London Zoo. He told her that when the planes land at the London airports, the penguins look up, tip over backwards and can't get up again.
She actually believed him.
(Peelmytangerines, Mon 9 Jan 2006, 16:44, Reply)

Gullible
Just to settle this for once and for all.

www.oed.com/words/gullible

See. Gullible *has* been oficially removed from the Oxford English Dictionary. At least the online version.

Thank you.
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Mon 9 Jan 2006, 11:48, Reply)

Fairy Queen vs County Council
I have convinced my 5 year old daughter that when the tooth fairy swaps a tooth for money. the tooth does not go to making the fairy queens castle. What really happens is the fairy sells the teeth to the local county council, the white teeth are then crunched up and used to make the white lines on the road, any bad teeth are crunched up to make the yellow lines on the road... what am i talking about this IS what happens...
(BadgerPirate, Fri 6 Jan 2006, 10:26, Reply)