Plod
Some years ago (18 to be precise) I was tootling along in my Mums 2 week old Citroen AX to visit a friend in Nantwich, I wasn't speeding just enjoying the drive.
I get to some lights and wait for them to go to green when plod stops behind me, lights go to green and I nervously drive off (I'd only passed my test a few weeks earlier), I hadn't even got to the other side of the junction when the blue lights came on, I waved acknowledgement and continued until I found somewhere safe to pull over, unfortunately this was a good half a mile up the road which must have incensed the copper somewhat because he stormed out of his car and up to mine and the conversation went something like this.

Cop: Did you not see me flash you to pull over?

Me: that I did, but it's been double yellow lines since you did and they've only just finished back there (in fact his car was still on them)

C: If a traffic officer requests you to stop then you do ok?

M: err, ok then, sorry.

C: Is this your car?

M: No it's my Mums.

C: Are you insured to drive it?

M: Yeah.

(cop goes back to his car to check the details and comes back)

C: Have you been drinking?

M: Yeah.

C: How much have you had?

M: About 3 pints?

C: Right sir, please step out of the car.

M: Okey doke,

blah blah blah

C: keep blowing, keep blowing etc...

C: That's strange, it's coming up as negative, what have you actually had to drink?

M: Coke!

C: (going red with anger) Are you trying to waste police time?

M: Well you're wasting mine! (I was a cheeky cunt back then)

And with that he went back to his car and came back with a tyre depth gauge and proceeded to check every fucking tyre was legal and then went over the whole with a fine tooth comb, not sure what he was hoping to find cause as I said earlier it was only 2 weeks old.

Let me go though, but followed me for the next 6 or so miles to my mates house, I gave him a cheery wave when I pulled into the drive too.


(Kip, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 12:31, 6 replies)

I had to pickup me sister from a dentist once
and the only place I could park was outside an OAP's parking facility. There were multiple spaces outside there so I parked in one and quicky ran to the dentist, where me younger sister was waiting in reception.

We get back to the car and someone's deliberately parked their car behind my bumper, blocking me in. I'm looking about wondering who would do this when an elderly guy approaches me from one of the OAP buildings.

"Got some trouble there have we?"
"Yes....."
"Murder when that happens."
"Yes it is" I say glaring at him.
"What does that sign say over there?" and with that he points at a sign on the way saying "Permit holders Only".
"MOVE THE CAR PLEASE." I say as politely as I can manage.

He proceeds to give me a lecture for a few minutes about illegal parking, and how us types are always abusing it, which is funny as it is the first and only time I've ever parked there. He was also getting rather narked at my lack of responce or acknowledgement, and started getting angry which was scaring me pre-teen sister. Eventually he moves the car and we drive off, with me being fucking livid.

I had him though; the next morning at 6am, on the way to work I drove passed his address, so I pulled up around the corner, sneaked upto his car and superglued a sticker onto the centre of his windshield a council notice stating "PLEASE REFRAIN FROM PARKING YOUR VEHICLE IN THIS AREA". Have some of that, cunty.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 12:28, 4 replies)

the magical payroll calculator
A mashup of last & this weeks QOTW. Back in the days when I was starting out in the world of the employed I had travelled away from my native Dublin for the first time and found a job in a big cafe/resturant. It was a place that employed a lot of part-time staff, just over 200 at the height of summer. It was a good bunch of people and my manager was only a few years older I thought he was easy enough to get on with (turned out to be sadly untrue), payday was always ended with about forty staff in the pub (this resulted in many stories for future QOTW's).

As it was a summer job I didn't care too much about it however I was keen to do a decent days work for a days pay. This was noticed and I was rewarded/punished with the task of opening up and checking deliveries, it meant a 6am start but I'd by finished & out in the sun just after lunch, fine by me.

Problems began when I was called aside and told that "we don't pay overtime", I said I was not looking for any, I wanted out of work as early as possible but my manager explained with the following " Listen Namey you clock in at 5.57am or 5.56am when you start work at 6am thats an extra twenty minutes a week". I countered by saying that I clocked in when starting work and as the clock was a few minutes from the deliveries area and I needed to be there at 6am I had no choice other than leave drivers waiting.

As I was young and keen to work hard (i.e. a pushover) my manager said he would fix it with payroll and there would be no further trouble, I agreed that i would clock out every day at 5 minutes before the hour to balance things out.

Things went wrong when my wages were low, I queried and was told to take the money & go to the pub like a good boy, again I was a pushover and I did. It was not a huge amount of money, about £15.

After a few months I was still being shorted on my wages and I was getting more angry about it, it was then that I found out why (thank you idiot HR lady who gave me all those printouts), the goons in payroll were calculating my wages daily using a calculator so when they seen I had worked six hours fifty eight minutes they paid my hourly rate multiplied by 6.58. So for clocking out two minutes early I lost nearly half an hours pay.

I finally stopped being a pushover (after working ten days straight and getting shafted on my pay again!) I told my manager that I wanted all my back pay and I had the printouts to prove what had happened, his response "you are jeopardising your position here by doing this".

Now maybe I should have come up with a witty & cool reply to this, what I did say, actually scream, was "FUCK YOU, PAY ME!" I was sacked, this did not stop me demanding the money I was due and rather than deal with me anymore it was agreed that when I picked up my final pay packet the back pay would be included.

So the following Thursday I got an extra £250 and told to piss off, I pissed off to the pub and waited for work to finish. When a good crowd of staff had gathered (including a few managers) I told the tale of the magical payroll calculator to all who would listen. The result was that I got to look across at my ex managers face while the whole shift turned towards my him and began demanding a review of their wages. He was not happy but I was.

P.S. Garry if your reading this you were a shit boss and your girlfriend was far too good for you.
(cname, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 12:26, Reply)

Junk Mail
I save up all the unsolicited mail with the prepaid envelopes, till I've got a good stash (ie about 4days!) . Now prepaid envelopes don't cost them anything unless they are sent so I fill the envelopes with pizza menus, junk from other 'offers' and if they are really lucky drawings by my 4yr old. And pop them in the post box

Spread the word if everyone does it then junk mail will become an unviable method of gaining customers and we can save a few trees.
(sittingduck Attention seeking, bullshitting fuck-knuckle, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 12:20, 13 replies)

The TV License people. Again
A lot of people have already posted about how they don't own a television and the TV licensing people refuse to believe them. In a way, if you don't have a TV you are unusual - figures from the TV Licensing Authority suggest that 99.5% of households in the country have a telly in them and such is the ubiquity of the gogglebox that the Joseph Rountree Foundation uses non-ownership of one as an indicator of poverty (this surprises me, as the people I know who don't own a TV tend to be both better educated and in better jobs than the average).

There are distinct advantages to not owning a TV. I don't run the risk of wasting my time watching witless crap like Eastenders, X-Factor, Big Brother or the new Doctor Who, and anything decent like Life on Mars I can pick up DVDs of at Cash Converters six months after they come out. However, the disadvantage of not owning a TV is that I occasionally get threatening letters warning me that if I don't buy a license for something I don't have I could go to prison.

In the past I've written back to them pointing out that I don't actually own a TV so would they stop contacting me, but as a tactic this obviously hasn't worked because another letter arrived at David Towers recently suggesting, once again, that any moment now a television inspector might be rolling up at my door and if I don't fancy a hefty fine it would be in my interests to send them a fat cheque right now.

It's the hectoring tone which rankles most - the problem with Civil Servants is that despite the name of their chosen profession they are neither civil nor servile and this really gets my goat. This, coupled with a presumption of guilt and ignoring my sterling rebuttals of their accusations in the past, means I have taken a new strategy in my ongoing correspndence with the TV license authority.


Dear Mr. XXXXXX

Many thanks for your letter of 18/5/10 which I received today. I would refer you to my correspondence of [dates] 2001, 2002, 2003, 2006, 2007 and early 2009 in which I informed the TV licencing authority that I do not own any form of visual broadcast receiving equipment, but the futility of referring your organisation to previous correspondence has now become clear.

You have now been threatening to send an inspector to my address 'soon' for more than nine years. I would put it to you that nine years after your initial promise is now longer 'soon'. Indeed, I would call it 'tardy', or possibly even 'sluggish', 'unpunctual' or even 'dilatory'. I'm glad I did not take any time off work to wait for your promised inspector, because I would have run out of holiday long before now.

You may be surprised to learn that I have no great desire to be visited by some jobsworth functionary with a peaked cap and bristling moustache (who will undoubtedly rifle my underwear drawers when I'm not looking) to demonstrate that I am in fact telling the truth when I say I haven't got a TV. However, I was prepared to put up with this offensive intrusion if it would get you to leave me alone.

With the receipt of your latest letter, and the non-appearence of your long-promised, never delivered inspector, I have come to a shocking conclusion; it is not I who am the liar, it is you and your agency. This 'television inspector' whom you have threatened me with for years is never coming at all.

With this in mind, I am issuing you the following challenge. If the Inspector whom you have been promising me would be visiting 'soon' for the last nine years has not visited me by July 30th, 2010, I shall take this as your personal permission, as a representative of the Television Licencing Authority, for me to go out and buy the biggest, most illegal television I possibly can and watch it until I am blue in the face. Furthermore, I shall take a failure to repond to this as your agreement to indemnify me against any and all fines, fees, charges, costs, forfeits and levies which I might incur resultant to this action.

I must ask that you cease your presumption of guilt against me forthwith and send your inspector - as you have repeatedly promised to do - by the end of next month. They will easily recognise my house. It is the one with the large and shiny new television aerial which I look forward to using after August 1st.

Yours, etc,


I'll let you know if they reply.
(davywavy, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 12:04, 20 replies)

I was attending my daughter's art class
a little while back. She goes to this pram-club with her mum, and sometimes I am boringly dragged along to see all the other parents. Don't get me wrong, it's good to see my daughter playing with others, but once she runs off to play with her friends I am left there to my own devices bored shiteless and looking like some kind of child-kidnapping material. Me daughter at some point settled down and painted some egg shells which were brought in this particular day.

So after an hour of dodgy looks from other parents this ends and we all pack up and leave. That particular day though parking in the area was a nightmare, as there was some press event happening locally, so the car was parked miles away. As we were hiking halfway back to the car though the missus realized that we had left my daughter's egg back in the club drying, and me daughter was playing up nagging for it. So for peace and quiet I told them to get to the car and I'll catch them up.

I run back, catch the caretaker before he locks up the little community hall used and run inside. There, by itself, is the egg with some monged blue smiley face stuck on the side. I carefully pick it up and vacate the building (I remember dropping an eggy fart in there too, it echoed lols).

I start making my way back up the road towards the car, when I suddenly spot a load of people standing by the pavement ahead, plus loads of flashing lights etc. Some bigwig in a suit was walking ahead through a plethora of cameras talking to everyone as if he was some kind of "People's Champion". Me not being one to miss out on stuff like this, I thought "Fuck it" and queued up with the other pedestrians. As the crowd are about to pass me I get a bright idea; I'm going to show him me daughter's mong egg. The cameras will fucking love this.

Only prob though was that I got a bit of an adrenalin rush, and as he walked passed I launched my arm out launching the egg at the cunt. He freaked and smacked me a beauty before a shiteload of people piled in and I was carted off by some bobbies.

I remember talking to the police about it afterwards, no charges were brought to him and the complaint that some fucker stood on me daughter's egg was never followed up. Now you try explaining that to a 3 year old :p

*might be complete bollocks*
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 11:58, 3 replies)

Wife and Solictor
When the then Mrs. Lovechild decided to cheer me up about her infidelity ("You're bigger than he is." I'm 6ft tall, he was 5 1/2ft.) I decided it was time to see a solicitor for advice and costs of divorce. Upon being told this, Mrs. Lovechild demanded the divorce be put through as soon as possible, I pay for it and the reason's for the marriage ending were not to be put on the papers. (She thought people would search for it on the internet and was worried what people would think of her!)

I was told by the solicitor that for the reasons not to be put on the divorce we would have to have been seperated for a year 1st. We didn't have property or kids to worry about so the divorce (after a year) would cost approx £900. If it were to be done sooner it would cost a lot more and the reasons would have to be noted on the papers.

After that I found out from a friend I could do the divorce myself through the court. I would have to wait till we'd been sperated a year and it would cost me £95.

I made psycho wait a year and stopped the solicitor getting an £800 profit for what was essentially filling out a multiple choice form and getting a signature from the sherrif's court.

I have since wanted to pursue a career as a solicitor. Or maybe just soliciting.
(Jackie Chan's Lovechild Go outside for annoyment!, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 11:58, 2 replies)

I use IE8 as my browser of choice.
Yeah, get over it fanboys.

However, if I go on the Microsoft site, or check my Hotmail, I use Firefox.

Take that, Microsoft.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 11:49, 3 replies)

I used to work
In a large conference centre in London town, I say 'work' essentially my duties consisted of washing mugs from which much tea and coffee had been slurped. As i'm sure you're aware these mugs aquire a lovely brown stain after several cups, repeat ad nauseum for an entire day and its pretty well encrusted.

So instead of washing them up, I gave them all a quick coat of dulux. Ta da! White as the driven snow. Take that faceless conference centre boss man!


(may contain elements of lie for comedic purposes)
(Psymon_Spark Jesus Saves! The rest of you take 4d6 damage, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 11:43, 1 reply)

When I suggested this QOTW
I ought to have specified which man I was referring to. It was actually Mr Tickle. So I'm afraid all your posts are now invalid.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 11:43, 4 replies)

Just £9 per month...
Remember those TV licensing ads that had a repetitive theme telling us how all our TV viewing delights were just nine pounds per month?

When I proudly moved into my first house in 2001 I phoned up the authorities and registered to pay my license.
That'll be "£24 per month".

I can't remember the exact figures or details but I believe it was something to do with it being my first application - apparently you pay for the first year up front and then subsequently in arrears or vice versa... they did indeed baffle me with numerical science.

However, what I can remember is my utter disgust at their adverts and the huge discrepancy in the amount they wanted. I also remember threatening going to the ombudsman etc.

OK so the ads disappearing probably had absolutely nothing to do with my mini-crusade but I like to believe in my heart that I'm the guy who stuck it to the man... especially since in normal life I avoid confrontation like the plague. I leave it to the missus who frankly kicks ass!
(lord nose, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 11:38, 5 replies)

friend vs. ex-employer
Somebody I know quite well used to work for a large high-street pharmaceutical company that WASN'T Superdrug. I say used to because after a year the recession was kicking in and they were looking to lay staff off. As he only worked a few hours over the weekend he was the first to go with very little notice. While working there he notcied a flaw in their returns policy and after a few months returned to test his theory.

This companys return policy was "if you have a reciept, you can return it for a refund, or a new item". If you didn't have a reciept the you could exhange for an item of the same or less value, or get a Boots gift card for the remaning balance.

He picked up a make-up set from the shelf (~£15) went up to the check-out and spun some tale about his mum not wanting this and could he have a reciept. The girl explained that she couldnt give a refund as he didn't have the reciept and he could only exchange it (when he of course knew) so he went and picked some DVD-RW's, some CD Markers, a drink and returned to the checkout which he then swapped the make up kit for (even though he hadn't bought it). He left the store with the produts and a £7 gift card to spend in any branch of Boots. (whoops)

I have been told that many people do this on a dily basis and get away with it, though you may not be so lucky.

EDIT: yes, this is technically fraud but as they "forgot" to pay him due holiday money he saw it as fair game.
(tb2571989 dies at precisely, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 11:21, 10 replies)

I was in Asda carpark a bit back
cruising about looking for a parking bay on a busy day. I saw one on the left. I also saw a Jag, (a rather fetching racing-green XJS I might add) approaching who had also seen it. I put my clog down and swung swiftly into the parking space.

I looked in my rear-view mirror to see none other than John Prescott creep past giving me the evils.

Ha! Take that New Labour!
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 11:16, 2 replies)

TV Licence
This topic has been mentioned before recently, and it reminded me of my own experience with the maggot-brained window-lickers that make up the TV Licensing Departments finest workers.

As students, my flatmate and I didn't have a TV. Being at uni in central London, but living way out in Zone 4, we got back home so late at night that we couldn't be bothered to keep up with who said summat bad to Shania so Peggy Mitchell got huffy and demanded Grant did something about it but he was too busy having a feud with Simon who'd knocked up his ex girlfriend and had called her a slaaaag.

But I digress.

We received a couple letters saying "we don't have a record of you having a TV license, please get one NOW if you have a TV". Since we didn't have a TV, we ignored the letters.
Then we started receiving more strongly-worded ones saying "it is an offence to watch TV without a license". I strongly resented the thinly-veiled implication that we, potential upstanding leaders of tomorrow, would be so dishonest as to steal television programmes. So I replied to them confirming that we didn't have a TV.

But the letters kept on coming, in increasingly vibrant shades of red. "It is an offence!" "TV inspectors are coming to your area soon!" "Our special van is outside your house right this minute monitoring all the filthy free television you're stealing from the BBC, the Queen and all the starving orphans. You soulless bitch". And so on and so forth. I replied a few more times, I phoned them and spoke to a disinterested drone who promised to "update the records" as soon as she located her last, diseased braincell. I even tried emailing them.

However, the final straw was when we received three letters in a single week. I wrote to them, saying that I have already replied several times confirming we didn't have a TV, that they had ignored all my correspondence, and if they continued to harrass me in this way I would have no option but to involve my legal representative, and they should jolly well compensate me for the time and money I have spent on communicating with them. The fact that this was hand-written in felt-tip ink on music stave paper (it was the only paper we had in the house) made it slightly surreal.

I got a letter three days later apologising for all the inconvenience, saying they'd most certainly updated their records now, promised me the lives of all their first-born children etc. And in compensation, paperclipped to the top of the letter was a stamp. A single stamp. A single, second-class stamp.

Yeah, I really showed them.
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 11:16, 6 replies)

I helped stick it to the man
But abusing the BNP 'freepost' address.

You could send stuff to their British Heritage freepost address and this 'legitimate' political party would have to pay to receive it.

They closed it late last year - fed up of what were apparently hundreds people sending them abuse, blank envelopes and opposing political views.
( JeffTheDogFucker Can you dig it?, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 11:13, Reply)

Sick to death
As my father was, of receiving unsolicited CD's from the ISP 'FreeServe' he decided to do something about it.

On the wallet that houses the CD was a bit of small print that said, 'If you don't want this CD, you can return it to us free of charge at the following address'.

So that's what he did. He posted the CD back to them. After first stapling it to a large bag of spuds.

These freepost addresses charge based on the weight of the parcel received.
( JeffTheDogFucker Can you dig it?, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 11:09, 4 replies)

Bringing home the bacon
I'm one of those passive-agressive souls who loves nothing more than fighting the establishment (those bastards) in disputes from deposits to item returns, and after a briefly-lived career as my office's go-to guy for those looking to get their bank charges overturned, I cant say I feel anything more than humbled to finally be portrayed as 'the man' in this following tale...

I'll introduce firstly our protaganist, Ryan. Ryan is the brother of my former housemate, 17 with 2 kids and no qualifications after spending most of his childhood in a young offenders' institute, and in that gaping void of education Ryan would pop over our place most days of the week to freeload us of our internet bandwidth and read up on conspiracy theories. Lots of conspiracy theories.

There was the pretty bog standard stuff to begin with; 9/11 organised by George Bush Jr, dollar bills predicting the destruction of the Pentagon, Freemasons and Jews controlling society; the general crock of shit that gets 3,000,000 views on Youtube.

After a while, Ryan began spouting utter tripe about secretive cults stealing original holy scriptures and keeping them locked up in Alaska, his abduction by aliens, and, most interestingly, how meat products are injected with the eggs of maggots who burrow into your brain and control your thoughts. Apparently after smoking himself onto a stupor on our sofa while watching something about food hygiene on the Discovery Channel, 'the truth' came to him, and we'd all get it in the ear daily if he so much as saw a meat product in our possession.

Obviously, the Freemasons had planned that one, and that's why Ryan was a vegetarian alongside his refusal to own a bank account (the Jews monitor how much money you have and automatically steal it when you have enough) and also wear condoms (they make your sperm gay; like I said, he's 17 with 2 kids).

These suspicions naturally made Ryan a 12ft by 12ft glowing neon target for my boisterous activities, and I would take any chance to rip into the little guy, from putting up captioned pictures of aliens about the house ('Come back to us Ryan; we miss your anus'), to cutting out and sticking together words from magazines to fashion crude ransom notes from the Jews ('gIVE uS yOUR MONEY rYAN, BUT reMEMBER WE'RE not oPEN on SATURDAYS'). I was generally a horrible fucker to the guy, but I enjoyed myself nethertheless.

Would you believe it, one day he got me back. After returning from a particularly heavy night out - without Ryan, as like I said, he's only 17 - I get a thump on the door as I'm busy trying to straighten out the room from its needless spinning. Ryan's been in most of the evening looking after the cat and (most likely) downloading as much porn as our ISP could provide in our absence, and is off to the 24 hour shop to stock up on snacks and wondering if I needed anything.

'Grblowf' I said, as I violently snuggled into my pillow, blanking out for a few minutes before I get awoken by a bang.

Then some rustling.

Then the sound of the fridge closing.

Then giggling.

When I scarper out of bed the following morning, Ryan's already awake with the biggest shit-eating grin exhibited since those Hobbits got back from their 9 hour walk only to proceed to frolick over each others' bodies gleefully. I disregard it and head to open the fridge.

It's full of bacon.

Full.

To the brim.

I turn to Ryan. He stares at me, points and yells "I got you Foxy, enjoy your brain maggots!", before running with great speed out of the house. Somewhere in his mind, the perfect revenge for months of torture was to give me no choice but to give me the very brain maggots he'd warned me so vividly against.

Defeated, I got out the frying pan, buttered the some bread, and pondered whether my children would ever be that stupid.
(FoxyBadger (try saying it backwards), Fri 18 Jun 2010, 11:02, 8 replies)

at my local petrol station
if I buy a packet of BBQ flavour Mini Cheddars and a can of Monster Ripper energy drink, for some reason it gets rid of the price of the can. But only if I buy the Cheddars too. I would have told someone, but the fella who works there is such an odious prick, that I buy a packet of Cheddars everytime, and I get both the snack and drink for 70p.
(Hernandez Fiendish probably won't be here until at least, say, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 10:50, 2 replies)

I stuck it to the man
but I used cheap glue so it fell off.
( Crap Little Monkey Deathstar, so good they built it twice, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 10:43, Reply)

I'm a Secondary School Science Teacher...
...and I'm surfing b3ta RIGHT NOW!


Mwahahaha!
( NinjaBadger hides in the bushes and gives you TB., Fri 18 Jun 2010, 10:24, 8 replies)

Cider Scam.
About a year or so ago, I discovered the delights of Koppaberg Pear Cider but it was quite hard to get hold of back then. However, it turned out that my local supermarket (which may or may not be advertised by a fat-tongued chef, and for the purposes of this answer, qualifies as "The Man") had a supply. The first time I bought some, I grabbed two boxes of four cans each, among some other shopping. When I got home I looked at the receipt and found that I had been charged £5.49 for one of the boxes and £1.45 for the other box. I thought about this for a while and realised that somehow the barcode reader must have read the barcode on one of the cans, rather than the one on the box, and that the till operator hadn't noticed. I idly wondered if maybe there was a way to influence the processing of the shopping through the till, so that this could happen more often. I came to the conclusion that maybe if I placed the box on the conveyor belt in such a way that the scanner would be more likely to read the barcode on one of the cans, I might be able to save a few quid on the price of the delicious fruit based brew.

On my next trip I tried it out. I did a normal-ish shop and grabbed 3 boxes of Koppaberg. When I was putting the shopping on the conveyor belt, I made sure that the barcode on the box was furthest away from the scanner, and that the barcodes on the scanner were facing the side that the scanner would read. To my surprise it worked almost perfectly, and two of the three boxes were priced up at £1.45. Result. Next time, I tried it again. Unfortunately, on this trip, the cider was all that I was buying, and the till operator was on the case and noticed that £4.35 was a little on the low side for twelve cans of premium brand cider. She fiddled about with the boxes and the scanner until the right prices came up. This meant that I had to rethink my strategy somewhat. After some further experimentation, it dawned on me that the supermarket had two broad categories of till operators - middle-aged women, who had been doing it for years and didn't miss a trick, and young men who had been promoted from pushing trolleys around the carpark, who did miss tricks. Therefore, it became a simple matter of picking the right till operator, and arranging the shopping in a certain way, and, bingo, cheap, cheap Kopparberg. I also decided to always pay cash, and not use my loyalty card, so they wouldn't be able to trace me. I must have got away with this for about three months before they worked it out and changed their pricing so that the tills would only charge for sets of 4 cans.

I did wonder about the morality of this but figured that they probably lose more in kids eating the pick n mix than they did to me, so screw them if they couldn't get their operating processes right. Apologies for length, but it's such a lovely drink that I would have been more than happy to pay full price for it
.
( Ping_Pang_Piddley_Dee couldn't give a big shiny fuck., Fri 18 Jun 2010, 10:21, 9 replies)

One of me mates is a hero, although at the time he was arrested for it
Bit of an unusual one this; my friend "J" works in as an Environmental Technician for a certain Steel plant in the area. As part of the company policy they need to ensure that any chemical waste or hazards which are located locally are identified and dealt with appropriately in conjunction with the police.

One particular day they get a call on the "Bat-phone", stating that a tanker on it's way to a factory nearby had jack-knifed and split it's contents out on the road. The police had closed the road and were awaiting the cleanup team. The chemical involved in the spill however, was not a general run of the mill one. The name of it eludes me, but apparently it was very inert to most materials, but incredibly corrosive to biological matter. Apparently it's been known for people to accidentally spill a drop of it on their hand, and before you realize what's happened the droplet has fallen to the floor with a nice new gaping hole like you're a Jesus wannabe. Basically it's not good stuff.

Anyhows, that's enough background stuff; J takes the call and his team are sent out to assess the situation. He turns up with his colleagues to find that the Police had blocked off the road and a few officers were talking to the driver nearby. As J gets closer however he notices that one officer was examining the vehicle, while standing in an inch deep puddle of this shit leaking out of the back of it. The only thing that was saving him was the soles of his shoes, and that wasn't going to last long.

Without saying a word he marches up towards the policeman who sees him coming and asks him to stay away. Ignoring this, J grabs the copper by his collar with both hands and drags him tip-toed out of the puddle before dumping him about 5 foot away from the spillage. The other coppers see this and leggit over to J, who is instantly grabbed, pinned down and handcuffed, before being thrown into the back of one of the policecars. J tried explaining what he just did but they ignored him and read him his rights....that was until J's boss found out what happened and had the local Police Chief down there to investigate.

Apparently the Chief turned up, ordered the release of J (as they were still sorting out some details before carting him off to the local clink) and after being ordered to carefully remove any footware he was wearing he was formally rollocked for standing in the stuff and made to give J a formal apology. It was only after this that J was able to explain just how potent this stuff was, to the point where if his shoes gave way all they would have found was a uniform in a puddle, that the copper finally took the hint and aptly shit himself.

Hell of a day at work, getting paid to with rough up coppers, I want his job :D
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 10:13, 13 replies)

Glentress wallride
I have not paid the parking charge at Glentress since they closed the wallride in the freeride area and I totally refuse to pay until it is reopened.
( Ramsay Tupper, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 10:06, 8 replies)

About eight or nine years ago,
I left my previous employer - a large, globally recognised American concern with various theme parks dotted about the world and having been stiffed on a bonus payment, extracted my petty payback on my last day. Possibly inspired by a post on B3TA (I wasn't so creative back then), I put a paperclip onto the photocopier and ran a ream of paper through before returning the paper back into the hopper.
Apparently this caused much confusion and an engineer call out the following Monday.

'Ave it!

This still makes me smile to this day.
( ForecastMonkey, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 10:04, 4 replies)

Soemthing of a pearoast, remixed
I was working in IT support, helping a largish restaurant chain move their head offices. After we'd lugged out all the servers, desktop machines, cabling and all that, there was a fair amount of office stationery left over, so naturally I set about filling my pockets with pens, markers and all the other inconsequential stuff that can be really expensive should you have to buy it yourself.

Driving the van towards Victoria I was pulled over by two vanloads of anti-terrorist coppers who held me at gunpoint at the side of the road while they searched the van. Searching me, they found that my pockets were crammed full of pens and markers and although they didn't say anything I've never felt so guilty in my life.

I've not stolen so much as a paperclip since then*.

*Except booze. Alcohol doesn't count.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 9:49, Reply)

I'm not gay or anything, right...
but I totally stuck it to the man... last night...

IN THE BUM
(likeajackhammer, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 9:47, 1 reply)

Tesco Bastards
Last week, I was going down to the supermarket after Sixth Form to get some shopping for the weekend. So I went in, and picked up my usual: Findus Crispy Pancakes, Tissues, E45 lotion for my rash, 4 cans of Scrumpy, Empire Magazine, and a packet of Scotch Eggs.

Anyway, I got to the counter, and the girl tried to stop me: 'Sir, this is 5 items or less, and you've got 6.'

I said 'Look, love, you need to understand that this is how I roll. I don't even know what the rules are!'

She must have grasped, at that moment, the kind of no-nonsense, bend-for-nobody man I am, because she spontaneously orgasmed so hard that she FAINTED!

The Manager came over to try and stop me leaving, but I just knocked her out.

Then I put on Ace of Spades on my iPod and walked out of the shop, with everyone watching me, and not having paid.

Take that, Tesco. I didn't even have any ID on me for the cider...
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 9:43, 9 replies)

When I get unsolicited mail,
usually "To the house owner" or "The resident".
If delivered alongside my regular mail I put "Not at this address" on it and shove it in the nearest post box.
Stuff you Royal Mail, putting those through my door.

OOh, cathartic and all that- What a rebel;0
( Blind Meach Cautiously optimistic, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 9:41, 5 replies)

Giving one to the salary man.
I had to go to Osaka to change my plane ticket.
Sorted. Going down about 30 floors in a large lift with 20-odd nips.
Realised that I had an obscene and greasy fart brewing. Thought for a minute. Will i ever meet these cunts again?? So I stuck it to the man, and issued a loud and voluable stench in the enclosed space.

Nobody wanted to acknowledge what had occurred.
So for what seemed eons, they breathed an outrageous number of minute shit particles from betwixt my cleft.

Felt like a god!
( hismastersvice cunting flange-jammer, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 9:33, 10 replies)

My housemates pissed me off
So I threw a brick through their loungerooom window.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 18 Jun 2010, 6:43, 1 reply)