I'm a bad, bad man.
Thank god for the relative anonymity of the internet, because what I'm about to confess is both dangerous, illegal and vindictive in a manner far in excess of the dirty deeds done by the hapless victim.

I know a girl who hated me for no readily apparent reason. I was nice to her, ribbed her in the same gentle manner as I do everyone, attempted to make conversation about topics such as lesbianism, absinthe, Dadaist art etc. which I couldn't give a tinker's damn about, but which she took great interest in. In short, I made quite an effort.

Not that she cared. Pouring poison into the ear of all our mutual friends, spitting in my pint, dropping ash on my carseats... this and many more acts of petty irritation wore away my patience until one day, not too long ago, I snapped.

I'm not a violent chap, so I didn't lash out physically in any way. Anyway, that would be but a momentary release of the my pent-up vexation and I wanted more of a long-term drip-dry, much like the annoyance she subjected me to.

This young lady has a voracious appetite for various Class A's, so in my corkscrew mind a plan was formed. I informed her I had obtained a contact who was able to get me some 'top-drawer snort', and would she be at all interested in purchasing some? Never have I seen someone carry out an attitude 180 so fast. Bought me a drink, fawned over me like a lapdog, offered me a smoke etc etc. Almost pathetic to watch.

Next week I turn up with two bags of crushed Pro-Plus pills and baking soda which I sold her for £40 apiece. I've been doing this for a few months, and the poor dear seems to be developing quite the coke habit, and I have absolutely no intent of telling her. Now my real friends are asking for some and I'm genuinely considering doing the same with them.

Let me just reiterate: I'm a bad, bad man.
(SurferRosa causing the lamentation of the womenfolk since, Sat 28 Apr 2007, 13:31, Reply)

A revenge that will never end...
Well, in January, my team of telecoms engineers we put 'at risk of redundancy'. As I'd been offered another job at a mobile phone provider, I asked if I could take voluntary redundancy. 'No you can't', came the inexplicable reply. 'You can only get made redundant by the company'. I didn't think I would get made redundant, as the only person in the office who bothers to trouble herself with work.

Shocking, then, that I was made redundant based on 'quality checks' and 'lack of commitment' (I had ASKED to leave!??!). Fair enough, I thought, I got what I wanted, but quality checks? WTF? I asked for a printout, and was amused to find some wholly invented stats based on 'how badly' I was doing. Now, everything I do is audited on a computer program, so I could easily prove they'd faked the stats to out me.

They then raised everyone else's wages, to over what I'd be getting in my new job. This didn't appease most people and the majority of them quit. I was offered a job 'now there was room for me'. I decided to stay, for the money, and waited to hear how much my yearly bonus would be.

A grand short of everyone else's, that's what, because the bloody bastards based the bonus payments on the fictional quality checks (so the part time worker, a mate of the manager, got double the amount other full time workers got). Upon complaining I was told 'that's something you will have to raise with HR' and 'the payment's gone through now, so it's too late'.

As the company is so boned for staff and customers are threatening to leave in droves (this is a well known corporate telecoms provider), the company offered weekend overtime at double pay to help sort out the mess. No managers in.

For the last three months I have been going into work at 10am on a Saturday, doing a few emails (sending on a delay, naturally) and going home an hour later. Yet clocking in 6 hours at double time. Same on a Sunday. So every weekend I've been working 12 hours at £22 an hour = £264 (before tax) x 4 = £1056 extra, meaning roughly £700 extra after tax in my wage each month. And I have no intention of stopping until I have a shiny new car.

That'll teach the devious bastards.
(Northern Lovely, Sat 28 Apr 2007, 11:23, Reply)

taught him a lesson?!? pah!
when i was a broke-assed student in london i shared digs with some downright nasty people. Earls court might be a nice place to stay and all that, but shit you meet a few strange southern hemispheric weirdos. some of them smell weird. no offense.
so, this one time, around half way through my second year, the room near the bathroom (revolving door for backpackers) was taken up by a real nasty, racist scruff. he was travelling with this real wet dream (for a backpacker) of a blondie and had decided to stay a month in london before f#@king of to who cares where.
the problems began when when my bread, ham and another of my flatmate's mayonnaise started disappearing AND i found a very hideous, curly brown hair in my razor (the bastard previously looked like he had not shaved in a year). the flatmate and i talked about it and he decided to spunk up the mayo. we both did. i also decided to have a word with his companion about him not touching my toiletries again.
at first the pretty buzzard refused to believe that he could have used my razor and stuff, but gradually the evidence (one nasty hair) was convincing her. i think she had a word with him that evening while i was out because the other bloke said that he had caused a pretty racket after coming back from wherever he went. this made me feel bad for the bird so i decided to apologise to her. i did not manage to catch her on her own for over a week, but as we bumped into each other in the kitchen i apologised for making things awkward for her. she seemed pretty shy and was non-commital for a moment or two until she kissed me. without more details, i bought another razor, toothbrush and hid 'em, and had a cracking two weeks with a screaming bird while some South African cunt traipsed around London with his weird mates. bliss.
i have not eaten Mayo since.
apologies for everything wrong with this post.
(monporn, Sat 28 Apr 2007, 10:34, Reply)

hotlinking twits
b3ta helped me figured out the .htaccess file to put on the server so the twit at rotten tomatoes dotcom claiming b3ta as his got pages full of thatchers. yay mod_rewrite

www.b3ta.com/board/7136128
( OneOfSome, Sat 28 Apr 2007, 4:53, Reply)

Lame story, but made me feel better at the time.
I used to be a cook at a particular pizza chain that may or may not rhyme with "Meets A Slut". We had one regular customer who was a real twat. When ordering his pizza on the phone, he would list what toppings he wanted, and when you repeated the list back to him verbatim, he would become irate wondering why you were trying to poison him by putting (insert random topping) on his pizza (even though he'd just ASKED for it). Every time he came in to pick up his order, he would open the box, stare at the pizza for several minutes, and then complain about what incompetent fools we were, could never make a pizza right, etc. He would never accept our offers to replace his pizza, though. So one evening, after a particularly difficult phone conversation with him, I went over to the pizza-making line, and meticulously scraped out every single piece of crud I could find trapped in the treads of my boots. All of this nasty gunk went, of course, on his pizza. Before I put on the cheese, I reached down and gave my sweaty balls a good rub, then used my clean hand to put a handful of cheese into my sweaty ball hand, then dumped it on the pizza. A little extra cheese to cover the crud, and into the oven it went.

20 minutes later, customer opens his pizza box, looks at it with pleasant surprise, pulls out a slice and takes a huge bite of it. "Mmm, you guys finally got one right."
(WillF http://www.flickr.com/photos/silverfischdotnet/, Sat 28 Apr 2007, 3:47, Reply)

Deja Vu?
Have a feeling I've posted this before on a multitude of similar QoTW's but hell, I'm at work, I'm scoffing the "Night Shift Managers Wine"(many bottles in our office fridge) so...

Many years ago, in pre-Fred West Gloucester, I shared a 4 person house with three other persons.

Now, I kept myself to myself. The prostitute who lived in the room next to mine just tended to rest there and kept her business elsewhere.

Upstairs was a whole different story. Two Chris's. Aussie Chris and uptight whole lotta angst Chris - who developed a huge antipathy towards each other.

So it came to pass that someone dobbed Aussie Chris's unacceptable behaviour (Shite music at 4 in the morning etc.) to Lilac Derek the world's gayest landlord.

Aussie Chris was duly evicted and, on his last day, broke into Uptight Chris's room and - well, frankly - deposited a mighty stool on the turntable of his stereo, then set it going.

Needless to say myself and the prostitute were hugely amused by this - asking our uptight friend if the turntable was playing at 33 and a turd etc - when it was actually us who'd dobbed the Aussie for disturbing her well earned sleep and my shift patterns.

A lot later we found out that Aussie Chris had got ten miles down the road before his cherised ex-GPO van spluttered to a halt due to 'Ol uptight emptying a bag of sugar into the diesel tank.

Ho Ho! None of your slippery foreign types in Gloucester thank you. That showed 'em.
( The Disappointed Caravanner of the year, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 23:20, Reply)

I'm sorry, but it's another story about the cunty flatmate.
After The Incident I still had a good month left to live with fannylipfeatures.

What happened over that month I'm not necessarily proud of. It represents my slow decline into mental fragility; an all time low.

I put his mobile phone charger in the microwave. I scratched the lense of his PS2 with steel wool. I spat in his conditioner (Yes, a man who uses conditioner) every day until he left.

EDIT: I considered spunking in it, but I didn't quite tap those depths.

And finally, the coup de grace. I'm actually so ashamed of this one I'd repressed it; my flatmate just reminded me.

As a law student, he needed a placement over the summer. I got into his mail, found the offer and tore it up.

Not big and not clever, and I never want to get so worked up over something so trivial again. But at the time it felt very, very good.
(Generator cannot be named for legal reasons, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 23:14, Reply)

punting children
let me set up the story by saying that I am huge. being of german stock, i'm a good 6'5" and 240 pounds. on top of this, i had just gotten out of surgery, so i was fucked to hell on pain killers. seemed like a good time to go to the theatre and see a movie...

...middle of the movie i decide to go to the bathroom. trying not to fall over (i'm still fucked up) i walk into the lobby and mindlessly walk towards the bathroom. i notice there is a woman holding her toddler in front of me...

...apparently the cnut decided to let her child down after i had passed, because the little tyke thought it'd be a great idea to run right between my legs. i swear i didnt see him, but the kid got at least 3 feet of air after i kicked him.

taught him not to run around near big people.

funniest part is the mom apologised to me after the incident as if it had been anything but hilarious to me.
(khoethmora Curiouser and curiouser..., Fri 27 Apr 2007, 22:34, Reply)

Ah, File Manager
Back when I'd just started doing IT consultancy, I was sent by my then Evil Pay Masters to one particular customer, in the middle of London. They were all mad. Sixty-two people, each and every one bonkers in their own little ways. Mad as lions who'd spent all day taking Mad McMad's Mad Pills.

They used to wind me up royally. Anyway, I was putting in a new network for them, as they were upgrading from Windows 3.0 to Windows for Workgroups 3.11. Told you this was a long time ago. For those too young to remember, check en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File_Manager for more.

So... we had to create shared drives, and network drive mappings. It took me two weeks, but we had it straight. If you logged on, your home drive was I:, your team's drive was T:, and your workgroup's drive was G:. That last one was a bit tricky, because they wanted W:, but I talked them round.

So... we went live. And everyone's File Manager proudly showed their local and mapped drives. In order, they spelled A C G I T. And they were happy with the fact that each and every one of lunacy's disciples had the word "GIT" staring them in the face every day.

Two weeks later, my then boss arrives for a meeting. He decides to check over the new system. He logs on. He pauses, briefly. He beckons me over, and points to the offending message. "Has anyone else noticed this?" he queried.

"Nope." I replied confidently.

"Let's leave it there then", he said.

Job's a good 'un!

p.s.: A year later, they decided to go to the all-new Windows 95. The drive mappings were still there then. For all I know, they're still there now.
(purplegod counting down for Christmas!, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 22:33, Reply)

My Brother
Is 2.5 years older than me and one new year's eve he was thought old enough to look after me whilst my folks went to a party at the house next door.

The cheeky fekker enticed my down stairs to look at something outside.

I , being a curious scamp take a gander clad in my jim jams. He promptly locked the door behind me and sttod on the other side of the glass panel taunting me.

Without missing a beat I turned, headbutted the plate glass door and stepped inside, leaving a train of snow and blood up to my bedroom and left him to go next door and pull my folks out of a party and explain why they had no front door and an injured son!

That'll learn him.
(Speshal, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 22:15, Reply)

Not one for the ladies
I just went down the pub with a friend of mine from way back. Turns out his lass was seeing some bloke on the side... for 3 years or so.
Now, as you can imagine, he was in quite a state, but kept himself together long enough for one last piece of genius.

He went round to hers the day they broke up looking for a good time, and brought a gift to spice up their bed times together.
The gift was one of those all metal vibrators.

She loved the idea, and was even more pleased when he said that it 'heats up' so it's not too cold for her to use by herself.

Did I mention that this friend of mine is an Electronics student?
He'd set up a nice little system to charge several capacitors inside the vibrator, hence the warming effect, and then discharge a certain voltage through the metal casing of the thing about five minutes after it was turned on.

He said he tried it out on his arm and it had felt funny for days after, so if you see a lass in Sheffield walking like John Wayne you know why.
( Pointy Head poked another hole in my anorak on, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 21:47, Reply)

The magic pint
I hate people who steal drinks or are generally rude to bar staff - drinking is a privilege, not a right, so try and act like an adult when you've had a few and everyone else will accord you some respect.

To this end, I found myself working behind a very very very busy bar in a club for some time, and the customers were grade A arseholes for the most part. Rude, obnoxious, arrogant fucking twats with no ettiquette or manners.

Good manners don't cost nothing, however, calling my barmaids "stupid cows" or "deaf bitches" would earn you a drink in a glass that I'd wiped my smeggy cock round. I even had a reserve of glasses, prepared at the start of the evening, that I'd instructed my staff to use for particularly troublesome customers.

Minesweeping was also an issue in this club, so to resolve the issue one evening, I took an empty pint glass and emptied my bladder into it, just over halfway full of hot yeasty smeggy cloudy pish. I then topped it off with some nice cold lager, with a perfect head, and left it on the bar.

Within two minutes, some random had come along, spotted the pint, eyed up both me and the other barman (who was near apopletic trying to contain his laughter), picked it up, necked a good mouthful, then wondered off with his booty.

He returned later to complain that his pint smelt funny, but not until he'd passed it round all his mates, who all sniffed it and had a taste to see what he was on about.

Serves you right you thieving ratbag, you and your pikey mates.
(mymilkshakebringsallthemongstotheyard poison hearts, poison minds - joining hate, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 20:34, Reply)

Never
..fuck with the unemployed, they just have too much time on their hands.
(mymilkshakebringsallthemongstotheyard poison hearts, poison minds - joining hate, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 20:26, Reply)

the poison dwarf....
fucked her ex and then left her skaggy drawers in the laundry basket....so I move on, get over HERRRR. whatever.
3months later her ex has moved in, they go on holiday to magaluf.....(nuff sed)
I stop by the pet shop: two pairs of mice and a box of weetabix as at midnight postman,its surprising what havoc 2, no 12, no 36 mice can do within a 3 week period-apparently.
and I still fucken hate social workers, working up to their next holiday whem I can stuff the air bricks with low grade cod....
(mickturate if i could be arsed i'd be bored, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 19:25, Reply)

The never ending spiral of doom
In my first first year at my first university (long story), I had the pleasure of sharing halls with ten 18 year old blokes fresh out of school.

Two of them decided that they didn't like each other very much, so they started playing pranks.

It started when 'bighead' (for he had a very large head) pissed in a glass and left it under the bed of 'Welshgirl' (for he was Welsh and liked Robbie Williams).

WG then retaliated by smearing fish paste on the back of FH's radiator.

The pranking got worse and worse, culminating in FH stealing a handfull of fruitfly eggs from his genetics lab and hiding them in WG's cereal box.

Cue me being woken up at breakfast time by lots of screaming and shouting. I ran to the kitchen to find it literally swarming with fruitflies. You couldn't even breathe in without inhaling a mouthful.

Following that, the halls manager had to get the entire floor fumigated, and everyone's food had to be destroyed (which went down really well, as you might expect).

The final act of retaliation was stopped short due to risk of fatality. Its a shame really, because I'd love to have seen it happen...

They both did genetics and in their lab they use a chemical called phenyl phenol or something. Now apparently, if you put just a few drops of this stuff in someone's drink, it's such a powerful muscle relaxant that you just piss and shit yourself within seconds.

WG has managed to steal some and was waiting for the ideal moment to strike. As it happened, he had mentioned it to his sister who was a nurse, who in turn mentioned it to a doctor who informed her that 25% of the population were fatally allergic to this chemical.

So we never got to see FH shitting himself in the middle of a busy club, which is something I still rue to this day.
( HoratioFellatio Taking the the out of psychotherapist, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 19:17, Reply)

Another flatmate
who was lovely for 3 months and then sort of disappeared leaving nothing but some curtains. Turned out he'd paid no rent either.

About a year later, I spotted him in a pub on the other side of town. He looked up just as I came in and caught my eye through the central bar area. I raised a hand to say "wait there", but by the time I got around the bar to the area he was in, he was scarpering out the back door.

Which was a pity, as I was going to buy him a pint and have a chat about where he'd been all this time...

Some people make their own punishments.
( chthonic, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 19:11, Reply)

Summer camp
Best experience of my life and I would recommend it to anyone. However, there is, and will always be, in any situation, one complete prat. This one happened to be Australian. Anally retentive, a complete arsehat. You get the picture. Very easy to wind up, to boot. My idea of making his life hell? Getting all the kids to mock his accent. Every day. For three months. I believe by the end he was twitching.
( jim_bob can herd cats., Fri 27 Apr 2007, 19:07, Reply)

landlord kept our rent deposit.

Back in College - in Wash DC. - me and 2 friends rented a house in the suburbs for a year. I am a neatfreak and always have been. I even rented a carpet steamer/cleaner for the carpets half way through our rental to keep the place clean. Fast forward to the end of the lease -- The Landlord kept the ENTIRE deposit of $1300.00 (650 pounds) -- said the place was a mess, we didn't rake the fucking leaves in the back of the house and he had to hire a cleaning company to do it... My roommates had all moved away and I was stuck explaing why they didn't get their part of the deposit back. We all still fucking hate him.

Revenge: I got a rubber stamp made with his name and address on it - 10 dollars. I then went to the local mega-book store - to the magazine section - and took out close to 120 business reply postcards - the ones that you fill out to have the magazine sent to you -- and then they bill you for the yearly subscripition. I stayed up late stamping those cards and marking the "bill me" box -- I made sure I picked the magazines that he would not like - like those for children or ones on quilting. I hope that asshole landlord spent HOURS on the phone clearing up the mess...

- cathartic, thank you.
(xianstudio, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 18:47, Reply)

Ball kickings
Repetitive.

Unexpected.

Shows a fantastic element of surprise and teaches that fucker a lesson about taking my USB cable...

another form of getting my message across also involves balls, but not kicking. It's only possible if you're sitting down and he's standing up: When said arsehole stands up, swing out your fist at a 90 degree angle and fucking sock the bastard.

Length? He's got none left thanks to me.
(Snailfighter Mk VIII MASTER of the bits underneath the ledges on fences, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 18:46, Reply)

Morals
I, in the phrase of the day, 'got into' my best mate's girlfriend in a disused supermarket we had recently broken into. She decided to leave him for me, but I rejected her.

That showed her for leaving my mate for another man.

(p.s. tis my first post, please be gentle)
(Jim8, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 18:41, Reply)

Crap housemate
A few months ago, my worthless, piece-of-crap housemate moved out. He did not give me back the keys and was using them at lunchtime to come in and help himself to the contents of my refrigerator. He was also stealing my newspaper in the morning when he drove by on his way to the gym, whilst I was still snug and cozy in bed. He broke a window moving out and did not even clean up the glass, much less pay for it and he still owes me money on the back rent and utilities. The first thing I did was pay the paperboy $20 to place 3 mousetraps side by side in my paper box on top of the newspaper. The traps were sprung and broken up under the paper box when I got home from work that evening. My initial plan was to insert some fake news pages (I work at the newspaper) accusing him of all sorts of disgusting things, but the mouse traps were much better seeing as how they are made to control vermin. The next thing I did was run house current to the doorknob and powered it up before I left for work in the morning. Upon returning home, there was skin adhered to the knob and the key was welded into the lock. One way or another, I was determined to get the key back from that bastard. And I did. A Pyrrhic victory is still a victory and he hasn’t bothered me since. Now for an evil plan to get my money out of him.
(jeligula, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 18:32, Reply)

this is a story of a right Twunt...
..who fucked me about for god knows how long, he ripped the piss one last time when we went camping, heh he just said one word and that was it. I was on him like a drunk bezerk Gorilla (apparantly), i got him around the neck and slammed him down, then got him into a choke hold until he mearly passed out.

scratched deep the bitch, at least he was better afterwards, but still is a cock.

i'll carry on about him and what he did to other people (in one week):

-teabagged about 3 people (teabagging is the act of inserting ones testicals into someone elses mouth, the victims are usually male)

- making another person take a shower in their cloths and taking their clothes

he is also a closet gay, hope he'll get genital warts or something
( Dances with Rabbits Back to Education i go, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 18:27, Reply)

My ex, of course.
My ex wife used to be (and I believe still is) highly paranoid whenever she leaves for a weekend that she's left something switched on- the oven, the iron, the stove, anything that might burn the house down. We would get a half hour down the road and she would make me turn around to make sure that she had turned everything in the house off.

So before we went anywhere I would make a great show of unplugging the iron, checking the kitchen appliances and all that- not in a mocking way, just in a "hey, everything is definitely off" way. But even that wasn't good enough, and we had two instances in a row of her making us turn around and go back because she was certain that she'd left her curling iron plugged in. (I don't know if it's called something else in England- I'm referring here to the thing that women plug in to curl their hair, with a long part and a clip on the side.)

So we were headed out of town one weekend and she started in about whether or not she had unplugged the iron after pressing her shirt, and whether or not she had unplugged the curling iron. We were a good 45 minutes away from the house by this point. I made things worse by asking her questions about it until she was utterly convinced that she had left them on and the house was going to burn, and she insisted that we turn around right then and there to go back and unplug them.

"Nah, I don't think so. I don't want to blow a couple of hours for nothing."

"What do you mean, nothing?!?" she screeched.

I reached into the paper bag behind her seat and handed her the iron and her curling iron.

She was still mad at me an hour later for getting her so wound up.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 27 Apr 2007, 18:26, Reply)

Bed Wetting
I once pissed all over my sisters bed when she had annoyed me and the pretended it was the cat.
(tompot Ian Beale can't catch oranges, the tit., Fri 27 Apr 2007, 18:06, Reply)

Call centres, hate 'em
A few years back I worked in a call centre and had to call a customer regarding something, however, he had a shite answerphone message, one that went...

"Hello? Hello? I can't hear you, speak up, HA HA GOT YOU!!!"

Anyways, after trying to call the twat a few times I left the following message

"Hello sir, I'm calling from her Majesties Customs and Excise regarding a certain package you ordered from abroad, we will be in touch shortly"

I really hope his wife got that message and not him
(Laxly, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 18:00, Reply)

Chavs
A thieving scum bag of a chav, attempted to steal some bits and pieces of mine and my friends stuff. So did the usual, told him where to get off. I got the usual, "Fuck off meht, i'm gonna go get some mehts and fucking chin ya." Well i thought he looked a like a bit of a retard so i dint believe him. Low and behold 10 minutes later he shows up with a rather large gang of chavs. Ended up as a three on one fight against me. Well one got a black eye and another two broken ribs. I think they learnt their lesson. Well i presume so, i dint get any more trouble of those two.
(Seanus, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 17:57, Reply)

Following previous post i remembered........
I was once sleeping at a mates house with about another 3 mates.
After hours of beer swigging, X-Box playing and the non-stop drone of somewhat orchestral parping, i brought hell upon myself by being the first person to fall asleep.
Now this was a complete accident, especially seeing as there was a perfectly formed turd sitting on my chest when i woke up in the morning.
Having slumped off to the bathroom, leaving behind a room of four hungover but hysterical mates, i applied the best stealth known to man and snuck a picnic plate in with me.
I washed the excretion from my chest but managed to keep it on a plate.
Fast-forward about 4 hours to lunch time.
Me:"I'll make the lunch".
*cooks "hotdogs"*
At table....
Mate:Where's yours?
Me:I'm not really hungry.
Mate:fair enough

they should learn that hell hath no fury like a Ketzer Miller scorned.
Now if my idiot mates of the time learnt to question things they wouldn't have eaten a mouthfull of shit.

Yes i know length yadayada, B3tans can read can't they?
(Ketzer Miller, Fri 27 Apr 2007, 17:45, Reply)