.
A few years ago my girlfriend dumped me via the phone.

I went to my room and cried and cried like a little girl.

That showed her.
( moonjam, Fri 14 May 2004, 13:25, Reply)

some gay shit :)
A couple of years ago, I decided (in my then infinite wisdom) that it would be a good idea to run for the post of President of my students union at university. With the benefit of hindsight, as does always happen, I've decided that life would have been far better if that thought hadn't even entered the same postcode as my brain. But, hey oh, these things happen.

Anyway, bit of background... I was at the time also President of my sports club (for various reasons, principally my own safety, details shall remain anon!), so making that leap in the visious circle that is union politics at the time (again, that phrase "at the time" grrr) seemed like the natural progression.

However, what I wasn't aware of was that I had managed to pissed someone off in my sports club. To this day I don't know how: all I know is that with a couple of weeks to go until the big election day, this person (he shall hereafter be termed *git*) had managed to run such a nasty and personally embarrasing smeer campaign around the university that I had ended up being kicked out of my beloved sports club and lost my girlfriend in the process.

And so the anger set in. I couldn't give a toss about anything else right then, including the SU electoral campaign itself: all I wanted was pure 'n' simple revenge of the evil variety.

Skip forward a couple of days, to the Saturday before the big election day. I'm in the gym on campus when, who else should walk in as I'm leaving but *git* himself. Always having my suspicions of this little tosser anyway, I immeadiately set to work while his puny 5ft 2in, 8 stone body made a pathetic attempt at "pumping iron" (wow. even after all this time, I still have "issues").

Making a quick dash round the corner to the campus shop, I made a discreet purchase of some top-shelf magazines... but some of the Dale Winton-esque variety. Wondering back to the gym with said mags neatly tucked under my training top, I equally discretely picked up *git*'s sports-bag and wondered ito the changing rooms with it.

Making a quick check to ensure no-one else was around, I wondered into the toilets and squatted... on top of *git*'s sports bag... producing an almighty sold yet foul-smelling (and, disturbingly at the time, slightly off-colour) shit which was deposited in said sports bag under *git*'s spare clothes. Oh, and along with the mags too.

Now, I thought that that would be the end of that. Oh god no.

Having a quiet drink with my best mate up in the sports bar about an hour later, after I'd got changed and showered, all ready to face the outside world... when in walks *git* with a couple of his mates. I gritted my teeth silently in the corner with my Guinness Extra-Cold as *git* proceeded to sit down on a stool at the bar.

All of a sudden, one of *git*'s mates proclaimed quite loudly "'ere ****, what 'da fuck is that smell?! ... I think it's coming from your bag..."

Que the three idiots blindly rooting around in *git*'s bag until they eventually fall upon the now shit-covered gay-porn magazines. A deafly hush now fell, during which I (acompanied my my friend) strolled out.

For two years I've kept that a secret, with the only people knowing the true culprit until now being the friend that was with me at the time, the current love of my life, my sister, my cousin and my parents. And for all that time, virtually every one on campus (thanks to the miracle that is Chinese Whispers) has believed that *git* is deeply involved with some weird, shitty gay-porn fetish cult.

Thankyou, my b3ta-ians, for letting me bare my soul and relieve this burden from my conscience.
Of course, it's only a matter of time before I'm either shot or hounded out of university as the truth circulates amongst the general populous....... :-D
(mmmmm... pie, Fri 14 May 2004, 2:13, Reply)

This one is ongoing
but ont saturday 21st of may, this will happen to all the computers at my former place of work

thanks to a handy combination of windows scheduler and a program called "dead mans switch"

That'll teach the baastard not to fire the only member of staff that knows anything about computers, and by feckin letter! didn't even have the balls to tell me to my face
MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAH!
( VampireMonkeyOnSpeed a super sexy sexual sex terrorist sex, Fri 14 May 2004, 1:40, Reply)

The Fat Controller
*** sorry about the length ***

We used to work with a fat bastard that always had his computer volume turned right up and sound effects assigned to EVERY event. We also were aware that he used our slow company internet connection to download bucketloads of very dodgy (alt.binaries.erotica.japan.loose.socks I think it was) porn.

This got really annoying, and being a programmer I decided to teach him a lesson. I wrote a trojan and installed it on his machine at work. It would listen on a port on his machine waiting for a telnet connection from me (or anyone else that knew about it) to issue commands.

At first it only messed with the volume (connect and type "setvol vol%" and I'd turn his sound down), and it also supported an update command so I could update the program remotely - this was awesome as I'd gradually lower the sound, and he'd turn his speakers up a bit, so I'd lower it again. As soon as his speakers were at max, I'd turn the volume up to max too and wait for the next sound :p

Anyway, I used to sit at my desk and snigger constantly, so I had to let the other programmers in on the secret. The program was dubbed "The Fat Controller" and it got expanded rapidly with 3 of us working on it.

Here's a list of commands in the final version :-

login (obviously a login command to stop just anyone using it)

update [filename] (updates the program with the new program - you lose your current connection)

setvol [volume %] (sets the volume to the specified level)

holdvol [volume%] (sets and holds the volume at the specified level - this uses a callback so you can't physically move the volume slider)

-basic file commands
del, copy, rename, dir, cd

munge [filename, munge%] (this overwites the specified file with munge% random data - hehehe, we used this on his porn download files)

window (showed all window titles currently open)

dump [filename] (saves a screenshot do the network)

kill [windowname] (kills the application with that window name, takes wildcards - we used this all the time to kill his newsgroup downloader program)

mouse [x, y] (moves the mouse pointer to this position - great when you phone him and keep issuing this command)

error [message] (throws up a dialog box with the specified message on it - my favorite was "warning! your are running low on dynamic handles", then follow it a few mins later with "Warning! Out of dynamic handles, please reboot" - and he did)

mci [string] (issues an MCI string on his machine, we used this to eject his cd drive, play wavs & video etc)

start [program, commandline] (used to cause all kinds of mischief, especially launching IE with some gay website while the boss was approaching).

After I left the company (in England), I found I could even mess with him from the US - hehehe.

He never found out about it, but got convinced that he had a virus, and formated his hard drive :( Game over.
(JaffaMused local in the So.Cal, Sat 15 May 2004, 7:42, Reply)

Ex-girlfriend is a cheeky bitch
I'd gone through a fairly messy break up with one of my ex-girlfriends after I found out she'd slept with someone after her office Christmas party. I called an end to it straight away but she was one of those "We can still be friends though, right?" types who don't even understand what they've done. Anyway, a couple of months later she phones me up in work asking, as a favour, could I advertise for a lodger for her on our work intranet as she was struggling with bills since I left. I couldn't believe the audacity of the women so posted a message that was probably a lot more honest than she bargained for. It ran thus (yes, I kept it!):

HOUSEHSARE OFFERED
On behalf of an ex-girlfriend who still believes she can get me to do stuff for her.....

Room to let in houseshare close to central Newport. Preferrably to easy-going, professional male 28-35. Must be cat lover, constantly say how nice the cats are, make no mention of the fact that they stink and willing to put stupid, stinking cats on a pedestal at every given opportunity. Even though they never go out, crap everywhere and are the most obtuse and backward examples of the feline species ever to purr. Not that they purr very often, they're usually too busy fighting. Must also not mind the constant stench of strained vegetables and tobacco as owner is a duplicitous, cheating, scheming, vegetarian smoker who believes 'monogomy' to be a type of hardwood.

A willingness to do lots of nice things without appreciation or acknowledgement would be beneficial as would the desire to pretend to like classical music, Shania Twain or Megadeth depending on what day of the week it is.

Help with household chores and maintenance would be expected though constant criticism in this regard should never dampen your enthusiasm for the task. Particularly when you've done something out of the goodness of your heart in an honest attempt to please.

Erratic mood swings and behaviour are available en-suite at no extra cost as is an unbelievably dodgy group of friends and an overbearing and dominating set of parents. Any good things that happened to you during the day should never be brought up in discussion as owner will take this as a sign to snap after the day she's had. Any bad thing that happened should be similarly hidden as this will again infuriate owner and result in the reading of the "You don't know what it's like..." verse.

Finally, ideal candidate should have close friends that they hold dear so that owner can attempt to come between them. Also it would be a bonus if prospective tenant was considerate and good-hearted with an endearing innocence and child-like wonder at the great things in this world so that owner's coldness and total lack of compassion has maximum impact.

On cessation of 6 month contract, no bond will be returned and owner will come clean about what really happened on that night at the Celtic Manor.... but will still contact you whenever a favour is needed.

Previous tenants have gone on to great things..... alcoholism, depression etc. etc.

£250 pcm to include household bills. Own share of telephone bill extra.

For further info. call 079** 98**30 and ask for Rhian.

(Disclaimer: I'm aware that the majority of women are wonderful beings sent to make this world a better place. I just picked a bad 'un).

The only difference between the version posted here and the original is that the original didn't have the phone number blanked out. Apparently she had several "strange" phonecalls but never did find a lodger.

Sorry for length...
(R. Jimlad twitter.com/sirmarkymark, Fri 14 May 2004, 11:23, Reply)

At my university most of the dorms are co-ed, but a very few are girls-only.
I lived in a co-ed dorm, but the dorm next door to mine was all girls, and a lot of my friends lived there. They had a very strict 'no boys after 11 pm' rule, which everyone except the people in charge was usually willing to ignore, in sympathy to people with/trying to get boyfriends.

One of my good friends, however, had a roomate who pushed this rule just a little too far. She would bring gentlemen into the dorm at all hours of the night and early morning, often several at once. And these were not polite, respectable fellows.

My friend apparently tolerated this for about half a semester, as she didn't want to cause trouble and get busted for having her (very nice, very awesome) boyfriend stay over some weekends. One night her roomie brings home two drunk jock types, and proceeds to get frisky with only one. Leftover jock tries to molest my friend, gets told to get the hell out, threatens to assault her with cooking implements.

Obviously that was the last straw.

My friend enlists the help of me and numerous other friends of ours, all of whom (alas, myself included) happen to be in this university's art school. We scheme. We wait for an opportune moment, counting on this girl's utterly shameless behavior to be repeated.

Sure enough, next weekend, she leaves for a night of partying around 9 pm. We go to work. We finish up, and camp out in the room across the hall to see what there is to be seen. She is observed entering her room in the wee hours with four (count 'em, four!) large males. After about 5 minutes all four come barging out, horror on their faces, closely followed by the hussy, pleading ineffectually.

So what had we done? The metals major in our group of friends had managed to whip up a large set of chains and bars and things, which he had bolted to the ceiling directly above her bed. It was actually just a mess and wouldn't have held anyone (hey, we're art students, not engineers), but if you didn't actually examine it it looked like some awful S&M device.

The two photography majors, who happened to be gay, had taken some lovely black and white photographs of men in, er, compromising positions. With other men. These had been blown up to astonishing proportions using the art school plotter, and stuck to the walls of the offending side of the room.

A couple of the art students who were into bands and such (there are always tons of these in any art school) had whipped up some sound tracks of orgasmic vocal glee and mixed these with sounds of chainsaws and whippings. This was put on a CD and replaced the 'hot sex bad rap' CD this girl always kept in her stereo for such occasions.

Some other bits were added, such as satanic drawings involving male torment or other things that would creep out football-type college guys posted up all over the place (as the illustrator in the group, this was mostly my doing), creepy voodoo-looking dolls all over the bed, etc.

Too bad that the four guys she tried to seduce that night were all extremely popular in the circles she moved in. Some very interesting rumors got out very fast and went very far. And in addition to all the havoc this played with her social life, the Residence Adviser for her hall got to hear about it and wrote her up for having males in the dorm after hours.

God bless art students.

8 thousand apologies for length, I'm a loquacious bugger.
( TheFelineAnarchist, Sun 16 May 2004, 6:38, Reply)

In a certain North London Fire Station............
There is (or at least was) a 20 year old framed picture on the wall of then local MP and Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher. She is surrounded by the boys of Red Watch and smiling whilst holding a large mug of tea.
Each of the firemen in that photo had specially wiped their dirty, stinking cocks around the inside of that mug before her "photo opportunity" visit.
Sweet revenge for the wave of Fire Station closures that she had instigated. I feel sure that she is not aware of this to this day.
(george_w_anker, Fri 14 May 2004, 2:12, Reply)

Really mean but
I lived in Antigua in the West Indies, and some of the locals are somewhat 'homophobic'. After an evening of drinking rum at a beach bar, my mates and I were giving a local guy a ride back to his village. He had drunk a lot of rum, and had been verbally insulting a group of (quite obviously) gay tourinsts at a local night club. A few puffs on a joint and he was comatose in the back seat. The plot was hatched for a lesson he wouldn't forget in a hurry.

We laid him out on his front on the beach, pulled his trousers half way down his legs, and using a pen, inserted a condom (with some suntan cream in it) a few inches into his anus. We left him there.
(anotheradam, Fri 14 May 2004, 6:07, Reply)

Simple but effective
Utter bitch of a flatmate / landlady was on the slim-fast diet. I swapped her slim-fast for Build-Up.

She never twigged.
( Bad Horsey Bring back Dr. Ubes Rub!, Fri 14 May 2004, 11:50, Reply)

Not strictly revenge,
but someone who left their job recently printed "cunts" in 8 point pale grey on a couple of reams of paper, and filled the photocopier with it. It was tomsks idea I seem to recall.
( supermoore: HUNG, Fri 14 May 2004, 1:08, Reply)

Victim takes revenge!
When first dating my wife in 1983, her ex used to cause all kinds of grief for me – making hoax complaints to my employer, telling a security guard I’d been shoplifting, etc, etc. He even tried to pay someone to beat me up – the joke was that the “hitman” and I thought it all rather pathetic and we became good mates. He also used to follow us around on his motorbike and when we'd parked he'd put a 6 inch nail in my car tyre. Later the same day he'd then take great delight in pulling up on his bike whilst we stuck at the side of the road changing the flat tyre and then laugh at me before driving off before I had a chance to smack him.

Fast forward 18 years to 2001 and we are now on vacation in the UK having emigrated to Australia in 1988. Found out that he is now a real estate salesman so we arranged to view several upmarket properties with him (he didn’t recognise me or my wife). Gleefully enjoyed finding fault with everything he showed us and managed to slip outside of the last viewing to place two 6 inch nails under his car tyres. Then made sure that he got a few minutes head start on us and headed home. Soon found him at the roadside with 2 flat tyres and pulled over. He looked so pleased that I’d stopped to “help”, but instead I started to tell him how awful it was to have such a stunt pulled on you and that some c**t used to do the same to me all those years ago. Then told him “Funny thing mate, that c**t had the same name as you”. The look on his face as it gradually dawned on him was f**cking priceless. Laughed at him and drove off!

The fact that my wife is even more drop dead gorgeous now than she was when she dumped him just adds salt to the wound!!
(emadex thinks the world will end on, Fri 14 May 2004, 17:48, Reply)

I Shot Jill Dando. . .
. . for ignoring my letters
(le renard, Fri 14 May 2004, 12:05, Reply)

tic-tac
As students on a work placement, my flatmate and I soon bored of the office environment - in particular some of the more 'self important' members of middle management (to whom we were lower than scum).

It turns out my flatmate had taken real offence to one of our 'superiors' actions and so blu-tacked all of his phones handsets to the base units (I had no idea of this at the time). Then when said manager walked into the room, my flatmate rang his desk...

The sight of a 40 year old man violently clobbering himself in the head with a whole phone is - I assure you - one of the funniest in the world.
( moonjam, Fri 14 May 2004, 9:59, Reply)

Thinking man's road rage. Instant revenge using Mr Plod as a tool.
My brother's a fella who drives an insanely fast mini-van (1071cc over-square A-series for those in the know)... great for corners, but a bit pants in a straight line.
Around our area, there's a notorius stretch of dual carriagway, with roundabouts every mile. This dual C-W ends and turns into single lane... and the police seem congregate there to catch the poor unwitting sods who appear at 70mph in a 60 area.
My brother was getting tailgated by a pillock in a BMW, so he takes the next roundabout at top whack just so the Beamer isn't sat sniffing carbon monoxide.... only to be overtaken by the BMW on the straight... the guy gives my brother the finger to prove his point: sweet.
Finally getting bored with the BMW, Brother sets Mr BMW up for a good fall (hoping that Mr Plod'll be fishing in his ususal spot).... He throws the mini through every roundabout at 70, and upsets BMW by catching him up on each and every roundabout... at the last roundabout, brother passes BMW by outbraking him.... Exits roundabout at 60 (knowing what'll be waiting on the other side), only to be overtaken by Irate Mr BMW doing 120+mph waving finger out of open window at brother... Apparently in his window winding preparation, Mr BMW had failed to notice the 2 police motorbikes waiting in thier usual spot, one of which was armed with speed camera...

... which was nice.

As brother passed the freshly halted BMW, he cheerfully peeped his ikkle mini's horn.

Never seen the lad so chuffed with himself.
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Fri 14 May 2004, 14:28, Reply)

Mate of mine
Had just broken up with an office fling after he found out she was also shagging their boss.

A couple of days later, he was on a course of antibiotics for a stomach bug, and was taking one in the lunchroom when she walked in and said "are you sick?"

He turned around and said "I need these for my Hep C, don't you remember?"
( gronkpan https://twitter.com/VomitingLarry, Fri 14 May 2004, 5:11, Reply)

Not physically yucky, but devious nonetheless
When I was a bitty froshie at college, I had my first "real" boyfriend. (I was a late bloomer) I was in Lurve. Luuuuuuurve, I tell you. He was a twunt and an asshole and I couldn't see it. After many instances of 'borrowing money' and asking/doing gross things in an effort to drive me away, he broke up with me, rather viciously. I was fat, boring, bad in the sack, you get the picture. I was destroyed.

Fast forward 8 years. I'm engaged and finishing nursing school. He gets back in contact with me, "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, why did we ever break up, I love you, etc". We correspond for a while, exchanging hotter and hotter letters. (This was BC-before computers) He proposes a visit-to "reconnect our relationship". Ok, fine.

I had cued in my boyfriend and when Mr. Weedy showed up, he was met at the door with, "Oh and Gary, this is my fiance Jon." He sputtered, was outraged, then pled for mercy and charity. No go.

The look on his face was priceless. Here he was, 500 miles from home in a foreign country, no money, (planning to sponge off me) no place to stay, no friends in town and faced with an evilly grinning me. Paybacks are a bitch. I have never felt so vindicated as right then.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Fri 14 May 2004, 14:17, Reply)

Dexterous incompetence
i was so unimpressed with the results of an undrpant pillaging session in my downstairs toilet, that I gave my right hand the sack.
I have rather spitefully employed my left hand in its place. My right hand is hurt to the very soul.
(foxdaniel, Fri 14 May 2004, 14:13, Reply)

Radiation!
We had a particularly unpleasant crew member once, and on the day he left the boat,he left his luggage on display, to which memebers of the engineering department quickly added large chunks of steel scrap, resulting in a monumental increase in its weight. I happened to be returning from a job whilst this was going on and plopped my waste materials in the bag, amongst which was a faulty fire detector unit. Unknown to me, when X rayed due to there radioactive content (fire/smoke detector units)these create a distinctive bright glow on the display and produce some hysterical x ray operators. Needless to say we were in the US post 911 and this 'security threat' went down like a turd in a swimming pool. What I witnessed still brings me to uncontrolable fits of laughter, I come out of a phone booth to an official telling me the airport is closed, and see this guy being frog marched by 6 SWAT guys in full tack to the security room....made the 6 o clock news and brought all of Miami to a stanstill (sorry)Bet his bum is still sore....
(captainbirdseye, Fri 14 May 2004, 8:49, Reply)

The bastard deserved revenge. This is not the time to explain why, simply to tell how.
I filled a wheelie-bin 3/4 full of water, and emptied a few packets of watercress seeds into it. I waited till he went into his room (this was in a uni halls of residence) and then I partially tipped the bin up against his door, so that it was leaning on the door. When he opened the door (it opened inwards of course) the bin fell into his room and flooded it with water. Being winter, his carpet didn't dry out for a week. After a few damp days, it mysteriously began to sprout green shoots...
( Purple Martin is board sigless, Fri 14 May 2004, 4:22, Reply)

Long but nice
This is one I heard about, but it's great so I'll tell it.

Years ago an electrician I knew was ripped off $20,000 by a builder he did some work for. The builder just flat out refused to pay, and due to crazy building laws at the time, the electrician knew there was nothing he could do about it.

Refusing to take the loss on the nose, the electrician proceeded to launch an annual campaign against the builder that lasted until he'd felt he'd equaled his loss. This campaign included:

* Emptying can after can of 'expanding foam' up the exhaust pipe of the builders expensive Jaguar car. The electrician used enough foam to force it up the pipe into the block. When the builder started his car, the block shit it's pants and blew apart. It's reported that certain parts attached to the block flew off with such force they pierced the bonnet on their way skywards.

* For many years, on both Christmas and New Years Eve, the electrician would cruise over to the builders house with his monster F100 ute, attach a chain to the main water meter with the other end attached to the ute and then rip it out. Given that the times were right before long public holidays, the builder would go without water for up to a week during Christmas and New Years.

* Filling the builders letterbox with quickset concrete. The builders letterbox was embedded in a massive brick gate pillar, so each time he had to practically destroy the pillar to repair the letterbox.

* And finally, the electrician would drill a small hole in the builders electronic gate opener and pump it full with sialine solution. Since it was housed in a waterproof box it would fill up nicely, then be completely shorted out and rooted when it was used.
(Brundy, Fri 14 May 2004, 10:34, Reply)

Revenge
Our neighbours once reported us to the police for having too loud parties so we reported them as beating there kids to social services
(CheekyMonkey, Fri 14 May 2004, 6:58, Reply)

Ex girlfriend.
Complete sponger, she lived with me for three years, and four of those months were *after* we broke up. She never paid for anything, ate all my food, put a lock on my bedroom door etc.

So I had my new girlfriend round as often as possible, and we used to shag everywhere. Even started going at it on the sofa while the ex was there watching TV.

Then, when she was finally ready to leave, I wiped my arse with her toothbrush, pissed in her mug, and sewed up a dead rabbit inside her favourite stuffed toy.
(Foss, Fri 14 May 2004, 12:56, Reply)

Ultmate revenge
After years of being tricked into drinking urine, having my personal possessions laced with excreta (human and animal), being cuckcolded, being subscribed to "Hot Man Meat Monthly" et al c/o my mother's address, having my job/car/significant other advertised for sale in the press and having every follicle shaved I decided to set a trap for my tormentors.

I organised the creation of a website called b3ta.com. Over the years I lulled my targets into a false sense of security with banal baubles. Finally, I sprung my trap: "a "question of the week" designed to get them to confess their crimes so the authorities, my lawyers and "Da Guatemalan" could exact my terrible retribution.

GOTCHA!

Muahahahhahahahahahha.
( calgacus Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynarae, Fri 14 May 2004, 12:55, Reply)

Another uni story
In our halls of residence we had this ridiculously anally retentive senior student we nicknamed Velcro because of his velcro shoes (crap nickname, but this isn't the best nicknames question). Anyway wheras all the other senior students were sensible (ie have parties if you want just don't wake me up, keep drinking after 11 as long as I can't see your pint if I don't look too hard) this guy followed the letter of the law exactly, snatching pints out of your hand at 11:01 and prowling other people's corridors to check for the vaguest hint of noise. You know the really geeky, annoying suck-up guys who cause trouble for the cool kids in crappy American college flicks? That was Velcro.

So, to cut a very long story long Velcro's next door neighbour was a skateboarder who was prone to using the corridors as a practice circuit. The result was 3 none-too-cheap skateboards being confiscated. Naturally he wasn't a member of the Velcro fanclub. So when Velcro left his key in the common room he immediately grabbed it, legged it out of halls to the nearest locksmith, got a copy cut and then handed it into lost property. He had this key for a couple of months until divine inspiration struck. All he had to do was wait until Velcro was out, grab a few people who also hated him (not too hard a task) and revenge was afoot...

One day Velcro comes back from a tiring day of royally pissing everyone off in the Student Union Council, opens his door to his room and finds... nothing. Not a stitch of furniture bar the sink and shelves on the wall. Naturally he freaks out and runs to the porter to get them to call the police. He then proceeds to interrorgate everyone on his corridor ("nope, didn't see a thing, honest") before nature called and so he headed to the large communal toilets. Where he found his room. Laid out exactly as it had been: desk next to bed, lamp on the bedside table (though not plugged in, obviously), posters of S-Club 7 on the wall, everything. For the next couple of months he was on the receiving end of numerous cracks about his new "en-suite" room.

Sorry about the length (not the first time I've said that)
(Captcheese, Fri 14 May 2004, 12:43, Reply)

hmmm, cake
At uni (why the hell not) this obnoxious foreign bird used to cook some foul smelling fish dishes that stunk the whole house out. She also had a habit of coming down to the kitchen in the dead of night and munching through whatever left overs were left in the fridge.
As a relatively expensive revenge, I purchased a good half ounce of finest resin and made some rather morish hash fudge.
I got a mate to test it, he had half a slice and 10 minutes later decided it was shit and went out. An hour later he was unconscious on the floor in some bar. The recipe was perfect! I put the fudge in the fridge.
Next morning I checked the fridge, it was all gone! Someone had gobbled up a fuck load of cannabis!
The girl was missing, but later in the day rumours began to surface that she had woken up in the middle of the night completely tripping her bollocks off paranoid as a cunt, scaring the shit out of some guy she'd just pulled. Aparantly he got the fear and left. The girl had never done any drugs before and didn't have a clue what was going on, so she decided to drive home in the middle of the night - about two hours away. She's lucky to be alive.
Needless to say she never ate my food again.
(fearnation, Fri 14 May 2004, 10:44, Reply)

Porn:
If someone is really conservative, uncomfortable and squeamish about sex and the discussion thereof (and deserving of revenge for some reason), this is perfect. Cut up about 4 or 5 complete porn magazines, the more depraved the better, and then proceed to hide the bits in all their belongings. I once helped a friend do this to his flatmate at uni and it was a top laugh. We waited till he was out and then filled everything he owned with pictures. His bag, his pencil case, his drawers, his cupboard, his books, coursework, we took apart his speakers and put some in there, wrapped round batteries in his torch, stuck underneath furniture, in his printer and computer case, literally almost everything he owned. They will still be turning up in a few years at this rate.
( Nimble Colin camera-wrangling, globe-trotting whisky enthusiast, Fri 14 May 2004, 5:30, Reply)

Many many years ago
When people used to use the speaking clock, one of my brother's mates had a falling out with his current squeeze. When they couldn't stand each other any more he told her to move out of his flat. To make it easier he went away for the weekend to get out from under her feet while she packed, on the understanding that she would be gone by the time he returned.
When he did return he noticed (after a fair while) that the telephone was off the hook. He picked it up and listened, as you would, and she'd left it on the speaking clock, (from about 5 minutes after he left on the Friday evening it turned out). There was however one small additional complication, the speaking clock had an American accent...
Cost him hundreds, and this was in the late seventies when that was proper money.
( A Lurker jacked up on B3ta on, Fri 14 May 2004, 1:58, Reply)

Not me but classic
A friend of mine works in a shearing hotel serving cheap holidays for old fogies who occasionally redecorate the bathrooms and die.

His boss is a right twunt and loves to think of himself as some sort of god for working 90 hour weeks and earning rubbish money. Anyways they are always at each other throats and it is not uncommon for them to be scrapping in front of guests. One particularly funny revenge he took was to put his boss's car for sale in Scot-ads (a free national ads paper) for 500 quid, was probably worth about 8k, resulting in many enquiries. When his boss found out about this he went nuts and gave him a written warning which he then framed and put up on the wall beside all the awards the hotel had won for all to see!
(noah472, Fri 14 May 2004, 1:47, Reply)

I really didn't get on with my sister when i was young.....
so i went into her condom drawer, armed with a sowing needle. I carefully put the pin in at the side of the wrappers, and poked about in it for a few seconds. On every fucking condom in the drawer.

My niece is a lovely girl though.....
( Steak the weegie: I though I had gone?!?!?!?!?!, Sat 15 May 2004, 12:43, Reply)

Just remembered another couple.
Back when I hated my Dad (toooo long a story) and he was moving out he asked me to get all his stuff together. Which I did, after:
1) Taking out any stuff that I wanted
2) Throwing his stereo down the stairs
3) Drawing Groucho marks faces on all the people in his 'artwork'
4 (my fav.)) he had an origami fish inside a picture frame; I opened the frame carefully, unfolded the fish, wrote 'fish' on it, put it back inside the frame.
(Chom, Fri 14 May 2004, 17:47, Reply)