Revenge
I used to live in a house across the road from an old orchard in the middle of a tiny village. Sadly the orchard was bought by a developer with plans to build a load of houses on it. The locals formed an action group and protested and managed to get the number of houses reduced from 43 to 9, but the trees were all uprooted and building work started. The first bits of minor revenge were to move the surveyor's marks, move the wood and tape marking out the plots, etc., but the work of course continued and the houses were built.

The developer himself chose (unwisely) to live temporarily in one of the new houses; directly opposite my house, as it happened. Of course everyone in the area hated him: he'd spoilt the character of the village, so no one was interested in getting to know him. What's more, he had a big Range Rover and used to drive up and down the tiny lane, talking on his phone all the way, swerving round horses and children.

One morning I went down to the local bottle bank to drop off some empties. There in the field next to the container was the big Range Rover, sunk up to its axles in the soft earth. I guess he'd driven on to the field to turn around, not realising that it was so soft. I took a picture on my phone.

By the evening he'd got a farmer to pull him out and the car was parked on his drive, opposite my house, covered in mud. I printed out the picture of his car stuck in the field, wrote 'TWAT' on it, and crept out late at night to put it on his windscreen, as a reminder of his stupidity.

Next night I did the same thing. I revelled in this little act of revenge, reminding the fool of what a twat he was, and I imagined his fury every morning, seeing another picture there on the car. He didn’t have a garage (no garage = room for more houses = more money) and he was limited in where on his drive he could put the car. I didn’t put a picture there every night, just maybe once a week, and never the same night of the week. I kept this up for 3 months or so until the evenings got too light and it was difficult to go out under cover of darkness. I never saw him in the morning, when he got to his car, so I don’t know what his reaction was, but I like to imagine him fuming every time he saw a piece of paper there.

A couple of months later he moved away, to everyone’s great rejoicing, probably to go and ruin another village somewhere else. My little act of revenge was petty and childish. But it made me very happy.
(Smale is stuffed, Wed 13 Oct 2010, 8:28, Reply)