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» Evil Pranks

Oily!
Years ago when I was in the RAF, having spent time with some of the strangest people you can possibly even consider, pranks and gags were, as you can imagine, bandied around with much amusement.

I can still hear Stu Williams' Welsh cries now... "My fucking shoes! What have you bastards done to my fucking shoes?!"

We had bought some white enamel paint (only stuff that will stick to leather No 1 parade shoes, and painted them a perfect shiny gleaming white. Next day we had a No 1 inspection, no less :)

But, of all gags, this was one of the best.
There was a small ginger lad, who owned a Mk1 Escort. Pristine it was, with alloys, chrome, big exhaust, nice stereo, the works. Worth an absolute fucking mint. Had even shown it off at shows and won some awards or whatnot.

I decided, that as his girly affection for his car, and refusal to pick up us lads from the local watering hole (he didn't drink) would require some form of payback. Retribution, if you like.

I got hold of his keys, and pulled one of the spark leads off the distribution cap, just enough so it doesn't IMMEDIATELY look loose, but will cause a cylinder not to fire, and obviously the engine will run shit as a result.

Next, roll car backwards, and under where the engine is, pour a nice quantity of the dirtiest old diesel oil on the floor. Roll car back, lock car, and return keys.

Next day, being a Friday, and a early finish Friday at that, we are all packed up ready to go. Cue ginger tosser starting car, and hearing the noisy starting and obvious shuddering caused by the engine, he looks somewhat confused.
He gets out, and we are all "alright, that sounds a bit noisy, mind you, was a bit damp earlier, it'll be alright in a bit!".
Cue him jumping back in, and reversing.
You now have a few lads looking aghast at the massive puddle of oil from where he has just reversed, and shouting "STOP!!!".

A whiter than white faced ginger emerges from the car, looks at the floor, looks at the car, and is horrified. Lads looking quite forlorn for him, till I whisper to a mate what I had done. One face of thunder and me thinking I'm about to me murdered, to one of impish glee, and he whispers "this will treat the little twat to NOT pick us up from the pub!"

Now, obviously, hes in near hysterics, but, theres nothing hes prepared to do, as he thinks hes just fucked his engine.
Off he trots, makes a phone call to AA recovery, and then to guard room to arrange for AA truck to come through main gates to car park.

At this point, said mate has let on what I've done, and its spreading like wildfire round the melee of people fucking off for the weekend. Hence, we then decide to bugger off to the Naffi for a couple of pints while we wait for others to get packed up, and end up getting pissed as lords as people come in to buy us drinks for this excellent jape.

Piece de la resistance?

Walking up to the AA guy as he's got it hlaf way up his tow truck, and telling him, with the sincerity that you can only muster when half pissed, that its actually just the spark lead, and the oil was a joke puddle. Ginger had demanded that said AA man not touch his car, but just simply to take it and him home.

AA man in tears of hysterics, best joke for a while lads, nice one, and as soon as Ginger comes back from whereever he had disappeared from, AA man straightens up, tells him to jump in, and takes Ginger home (somewhere near Carlisle if I recollect correctly, and this from Cosford, near Wolverhampton!).

Cue monday morning, 7am, and Ginger returns in motor. Nothing said to us all week, hes basically shunned us. Turns out when AA man dropped him off and unloaded his car (some 5 or 6 hours later), he told him.

Nice one AA man, if I ever see you again I will personally buy you drinks all night.

Apologies for length, but tales like this are always best served with warm gravy.
(Fri 14th Dec 2007, 0:59, More)

» Shops and Supermarkets

These boots are made for walking.....
Just in case you are thinking about the faux leather things you pop on your feet, a quick apology.
Its about a high street store that peddles pharmacy goods, and other general healthcare goods, and does a bloody good business at Christmas with their "Three for Two" offers.
And no, its not bloody Superdrug.

Now, a young Tesco Quality had bagged a job at this grand store to be a shelf stacker. Nothing wrong with that, I hear you say, even starting at 7am in the morning to punt out, by onesself, all manner of pantyliners, nappies and shampoos.
After the cages had been returned to their places, I would then be "on the till". Yep, I was also a till monkey, happily serving the good customers of my home town their wares.

Yes, indeed to this day, if you ask me what colour box is the "Tampax extra - Torrents of blood like a raging river", then I will happily murmur the reply in a daze of happy rememberance.

There are always advantages to working in such a place, the ladies on the cosmetic counter... However, I did ask one rather trowelled lady once how long it took to plaster on the makeup - I was met with threats of violence including "how would you like this rather big Denman hair brush stuck up your arse?". I retired to stacking more boxes of Tommee Tippee breast milk devices on the shelves.

Other moments of wide eyed hushedness included...

The old lady, every Saturday morning, as soon as the store opened. She made a bee line for me on the till.
At least 70, if a day. And regular as clockwork. EVERY FUCKING SATURDAY. A basket. She would approach, bolder than a African Lion in heat.

1 x tube of KY Jelly
3 x boxes of Durex, ribbed.

And no words were said while I picked up the items, scanned them into the till, popped them into a "small bag", and of course, she would say "you will double bag it for me deary?". And of course, I would double bag. Fuck you enviromentalists, some old lady is getting some. If she wants it double bagged, I'll double bag it.

Oh, and the "country" types. Dragging their teenage daughter in and baskets full of the aforementioned "Tampax Extra Torrent Strength".
I assure you all, my eyes are on the till, listening to the beep of the bar code as it passes by. No words ever were mentioned of this ever, it is like a secret code to those girls whom I was in 6th form with. I held mighty respect for not disclosing that "Big Tits Sarah" has got a minge exploding like Old Faithful in Yellowstone Park.

And the discounts were not bad either! 33% of own brand and 17.5% off any other stuff. Roaring trade at Christmas, especially on the testers. Want a bottle of the finest Eau de WHATTHEFUCKISTHATSMELL? Tester bottles by the hundred. All upstairs in the canteen, Pop a pound in the "honesty box" and take a bottle with you.
Profits abound, my lovely boys and girls!

However, these promised days could not live forever. I had to leave the sacred aisles of shampoo and boxed gift sets of Brut. But not before, THE BAD DAY happened.

The day started normally, Old Lady came and took her supplies, and various nubiles escorted by their mothers would buy their stocks of Kotex and other assorted goodies. Small talk would be passed to the good people. Please's and thank you's would be happily passed with the smile that I would happily muster.

The stench happened first. If I had known then about the Old Ones, then I would have thought that Cthluthu himself had passed a wrist shaped shit in the doorway.
Eyes watered, strange moans and retches were heard from the hair dye aisles. All I had to assile to evil stink was Vicks Vaporub, which I had been assigned, to be the good keeper of, in case of this day.

The evilness approached the till. My till. Oh mother of all holy please, not this, please no...
Oh yes.
A lady of odd complexity, some may say a look of being shell shocked, perhaps of being faced with a husband presumed dead in some awful accident suddenly showing up and asking for a brew.
She placed a toddler on the side counter, and the stink was magnificent. Since those young days I have consumed some drink, some foodstuffs to ferment in my bowels and the next day the escaping aroma is something that Hades himself would be pleased with.

But, no. This... stench, the evil clagging invisible mist was permeating the protective layers of Vicks Vaporub. It was simply melting from my upper lip, and the my eyes were quickly being consumed by a fog of dense evilness.

All she said was.... "I've had to take a nappy out of this pack, I've had to change him. Can you get rid of the old one for me?"
And with a thump, the most evil thing in the world was deposited in the basket holder. Pensioners were in cardiac arrest, the makeup from the trowelled ladies was dripping off, and in the distance I heard sirens approaching.

I had to be strong. The serve was done. The card was "click clacked" through the machine. All throughout, screams and the noises of pure evil was heard.

And guess what? The kid was chomping on a "Chupa Chup" lolly from the front of the till. Did I charge for that? Did I fuck.

The till was closed for about 3 hours after that, and it never recovered. I left shortly after, and I understand it was burnt down in a strange "electrical fire".

I feel, to this day, privileged though, to have met Cthulthu's Child.
(Tue 15th May 2012, 23:49, More)

» Bastard Colleagues

Here be a story.. so be comfy and pull up a kitten.
Once upon a time, there used to be a Evil Witch (TM). And this Evil Witch was the very spawn of Satan. It was told, in tales of old, that the Evil Witch was in fact SO EVIL, that even Satan will bow down to her.

This woman, and I use the word in the most polite way, was just simply MAD.
Not crazy as a shit house rat MAD, just EVIL MAD.

We shall indeed use names that are changed to protect forth from EVIL, as that is the TERROR that she dripped from every pore.

Sod it, I'll just use abbreieviate.

K, in all her crazyness was simply disliked. She had been with the firm for many a year, working in various departments. She has also slept with various persons from the aforementioned departments in some strange ritual, that can only be described as "slaggery".

She was thought of than less than the poor lad who would sit crossed legged in assembly with freshly trod in dog shit on his shoes - in fact, I would rather work with freshly laid dog egg in my office that have to even talk to her.

There are many words that have been used to describe "K", and oh dear, poor readers, I cannot tell you some, as they would simply render you immediately to an immediate and medically justified dose of Mind Bleach.

"K" is a Evil Witch of such self importance, such stuck up her own arse, but having the illusion of having from behind, an average to reasonable figure, but from infront, Good Lord and Jesus Himself Protect Us, the face of Medusa herself, thought she was a stunner.

Nope, sorry "K", you are just a common whore.

In my previous incarnation as an IT Manager however, it came to light that after she had managed to somehoo start boning the MD, she thought she was INDESTRUCTABLE. Think drinking from the Holy Grail style of INDESTRUCTABLE.

She was moved from position to position within the company, and somehow managed to attain one of the biggest offices from which two of the wonderful ladies had been ousted from. She now has an office bigger than the MD's. OH MY WORD.

Her style of evilness was of sometimes simple "I'll have you sacked" to actual verbal and physical attacks. I don't think I'd have much face left if I hadn't jumped out the way when said door was slammed on me.

Even when I was dealing with disaster of worldwide proportion, eg, exchange server self imploding, she would decide that she would gain access code from MD and let herself into my server room, and berate me for not changing her printer toner, which she had emailed me about 10 minutes earlier.

Now, see above. Exchange has hung and its mid afternoon , no emails, but she claims that she SENT ME A FUCKING EMAIL EARLIER NOW COME AND CHANGE MY FUCKING TONER IVE GOT PAPERWORK TO PRINT OUT THATS FUCKING GOING TO EARN MILLIONS FOR THIS COMPANY YOU LITTLE SHIT.

Oh dear. I was also on the phone to one of the sales reps who did ACTUALLY need to send an email of urgency to a sales lass. He advised to tell the potty mouthed little so and so (NOT ACTUAL WORDS) to go away.

I indeed did tell "K" that I was unavailable, and in keeping with her language, told her in no uncertain terms to "Fuck off out of my server room you obnoxious little bitch".

Hence forth, the MD.

Did you read earlier, my lovely B3tans? He was nobbing her. I was then pulled from fixing a CRITICAL problem to fitting a toner.

Did I laugh when she printed a ONE (1) single page sales order QUOTE of about half a dozen plastic chairs?

No. She then went into a tirade of abuse because she couldn't send any emails and her holiday booking form was going to be late.

Her rescue came in the form of the MD.

He then also made forth with "do I like making females cry" when she starting blubbering about her holiday (booked during work time etc etc etc).

Oh dear. Tesco Quality is in the poo, and its over his miserable neck.

What saving grace does the one and only Tesco Quality have?
One simple fact of life.

MD - If I don't get this email system up and running, like, now, then we could have problems.
"Why"

"Erm, because we have just changed to an semi automated wage system of which the financial director gets sent and email of which contains a code, and he has to phone the bank back to confirm code, and funds are released to wages."

"Oh right, you better get on with it then."

"K" : "I can't believe this - hes treated me like shit and just because emails can't be sent you're letting him off".

Me... "Oh, K, knock it off will you. I've got a million more important jobs to do that changing your toner. Oh, hang on. Bollocks. I know! - How about I get on the tannoy and tell ***ALL*** employees that they aren't going to be paid because you wanted your toner changing?"

***Deathly Silence Ensues***

"K" - "Silence"
"MD" - "Erm, theres no need for that now, so, lets just get emails working again shall we?"

She has a large number of complaints against her, of which none were ever followed up. Some staff actually threatened legal action, and I still have the emails sent from her with language that would give even lorry drivers a heart attack.

I'm saving them for a rainy day.

And, on a final note - if you are shagging the MD, for god's sake, don't do it when there are contractors working in the car park fixing the fucking drains getting a eyeful - they AREN'T the most quietist of folk.......

Apologies for length? None at all, as mine is Ad Finitum.
(Fri 25th Jan 2008, 21:59, More)

» Accidental animal cruelty

Worms, snails, electricity and THINGS.
*This real story is accidental in the FACT* that it was carried out under controlled conditions on the grounds of siences.

When we were younger, me and a mate thought it would be both a source of mirth and interesting in the realms of siences* to go hunting for small garden creatures, being as in the title, worms and snails.

The unfortunate creatures were rounded up in a bucket, and masterfully carted off to Matt's garage, located at the bottom of his garden.

Now, the garage was secluded enough so that if Matt's Dad came trundling down, we had time to **put things away**.

Now, being young of age (12 ish if my brain remembers) we were full of childish experimentation, and decided to see what would happen if we wired the poor fuckers up to the national grid.

Yes, ladies and gents, we took an extension lead, whipped off the socket end, and wrapped the live and neutral around said worms and watched in amazement as when power was applied, we would have a disgraceful miniature version of old sparky, but without the chair.

Pop, BANG and fizzle went the worms, but on most occaisions, they would just sizzle and turn rock hard.

Boring.

However, snails were slightly more interesting. You see, the shell seemed to contain the fizzy 240V AC and boiled the poor bastards from the insides, and cause miniature explosions. POW! BANG! SPLAT!

But, of course, after a while, we get bored, and decide to gather up more of the creatures and put them into a fish tank. The fish tank still had gravel, and we indeed did a VERY SILLY THING.

Petrol, the contents of a old chemistry set and the liquids from bottles from your average garage were bunged into this tank, and the creatures were tipped in. They seemed to enjoy swimming / crawling around in this toxic chemical sludge we had created, and we had a brain wave!

LETS CONNECT THE POWER!!

Now, as all good siences people know, electricity and liquid generally doesn't mix, and when we connected the power, there was occasional pops and fizzles as a worm or snail managed to crawl over the bare wires. This unfortunately also cooks them, and we had a mini explosion as the vapours kind of popped, a whoosh was emitted, and a small fire ensued. Luckily also, the 13A fuse had decided on the grounds of safety to blow, and save us from fire/electrocution/mutant creatures.

This also caused a rather strange fog to be formed, which rolled over the top of the tank, and hugged the floor. The fire was no more, but the tank had cracked, and the front of it dropped and shattered. Me and Matt look at each other in the kind of "oh shit we are in trouble look" and look around something to clean the mess up with.

Only problem was, was that this chemical fog was still kind of hugging the floor, and the undead (or rather, lucky) snails or worms were happily wiggling their way through it.

Cue disbelief, ARRRRGGGHHHHSSS and "mutant snails / worms" coming to pay revenge.

Nope, they were just doing as their little invertebrate brains were designed to do best, and wiggle around looking for dead vegetation to devour.

Needless to say, we did have a few moments of terror as we had thought we had somehow created toxic chemical soaked garden things, and they were out for BLOOD.

Our BLOOD.

Happily, these moments passed, and we ignored the little blighters as we cleaned up broken tank and fucked it off in the dustbin.

Still to this day, I cannot tread on a snail or chop a worm in two with a garden spade. I treat them with respect, in the hope the the love and encouragement I give them now will prevent a horde of worms and snails in Hell wiring me up to old sparky for their own peculiar source of entertainment.

Length? Average worm, extended, 6.5 inches. o_O

*FACT : May not contain 100% regarding Accidental and Siences. May contain traces of childish evilness.
(Thu 6th Dec 2007, 23:36, More)

» My job: Expectation vs Reality

Nursing.
Expectation : Lots of people going "oooh" and "ahhhh" and getting some "lovely" doctor telling them that all is well and they will live another x years even though their lifestyle is shit. "Pretty" nurses and doctors jumping on people who have just had a cardiac arrest and bringing them back to the world of the living and the patient having a miracle recovery!

Reality : Lots of people using A&E as an excuse to bypass the system. GP's in the field not giving a shit anymore and dumping ***anything*** that looks anything more than a cough or a scratch into A&E. Liars, cheats and vagabonds using the NHS as a way of cheating their way through life so they don't have to contribute towards their own life.
Some drunken tosspot with a sprained ankle shouting and screaming at you in some indecipherable language because they demand to be seen by a doctor now, holding you up from seeing a polite old gentleman who has paid his NI for 50 years has broken his hip (full on rotation and shortening) after falling over, because his so called "community carers" have not been to visit him this evening.
Working for 12 hours, 5 nights in a row, with no more than perhaps a 10 minute break each night to get a quick cup of tea.

Most of us have the reality check and make sure the old lad with the broken hip gets a pillow and blankets. The drunken wanker gets their expectation fulfilled. No prizes for guessing what their reality will be.
(Sun 11th May 2014, 1:46, More)
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