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Pranks, japes and wanton cruelty to your friends


Gus Mears
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While attempting to not work very hard at my job, I spend much of my time thinking of how to irritate friends.

 

A long time target of mine regularly receives shit I buy off Ebay/Amazon and then have delivered to his house. Some of my personal highlights include 40kg of bird seed, an industrial sized number of spring onions and nine copies of 'Opening Up' by Geoffrey Boycott. I can't think of anything better than recieiving a nigh on dozen of this fine tome:

 

51_BFAb_WMEDL_SX350_BO1_204_203_200.jpg

 

 

My favourites however were the following business cards that we got 1000 printed of, before distributing liberally across the country.

 

 

Matt.jpg
 

 

These were a great success and actually made it to three different continents. They also spawned several revenge and copy cat business cards being made.

 

This led to the pièce de résistance which I sent to the same friends house and which still adorns the wall on the khazi. It's absolutely fucking enormous.

 

 

 

Chucklevision.jpg

 

 

My current target is one of my closest friends who also happens to work at the same Council authority that I do, albeit in a different location. We spend most of the day discussing cricket and seafood recipes on the Council IM service.

 

Last Friday he sent me a message saying that he had been incorrectly called on his work number by someone asking for a “Mrs Mundy” and this set the gears off in my head. So, I spent most of the morning Googling 'Pay day loan callback number', 'estate agent callback number' and 'Sell my jewellery callback number' and lodging various email requests saying: “I NEED A PAYDAY LOAN!! MY NAME IS MRS MUNDY! CALL ME BACK!” and then putting his work number as the designated one to call back on.

 

Sure enough, half an hour after this had started I got a further IM message from my mate expressing his surprise that he had received a further 5 calls from various people asking for Mrs Mundy. This continued throughout the day with hourly updates as to how many phonecalls he had received, his consternation that he couldn't switch his phone off in-case he missed an important teleconference and his general confusion as to why West London estate agents were calling up number that has a South West area code.

 

The day was capped off with my mate giving up on work, logging off 2 hours early and me receiving a final message saying “Whoever this Mrs Mundy is, she's a cunt. I hope she doesn't manage to sell her house and that it falls down with her inside it”.

 

I'm planning on continuing with 1-2 callbacks a day, eventually leading to a final frantic orgy of pointless phonecalls some time in May. Another friend of mine has agreed to voice the role of Mrs Mundy and phone up my mate's work phone at the end asking why he's stolen her number.

 

Does anyone else have form in this regard and any entertaining stories? I have a few more, but can't be arsed to type them up at present.

Edited by Gus Mears
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Wonderful.

 

 

As a student I lived in a house with 4 other lads, all very good mates. I was broke so any treats/choc/beer etc was a bloody score.

On my birthday my aunty sent me a big bar of galaxy, around twice the size of the large £1 ones.

Anyway, I wrapped it in a carrier bag, hid it in my food cupboard under and behind my smart price beans, made sure it was well out of sight, and buggered off for the night.

Came home next day to find that one of the twats had scoffed half of it.

I went fucking mental.

One of them grassed up the perpetrator who was now on his own jaunt.

I looked in his cupboard to try and find retribution, but to no avail. So I empty his double cupboard and put the fucking lot of it in the back yard, the kind of dump back yard no one ever went in.

He came home the next day to find that his cupboards were bare. I kept shtum while he went in to a radge.

I left him clues/notes saying silly shit like, "I'm bloody freezing".

He clocked on 3-4 days later and shouted "what the fuck"... I called him chocolate chin, we made up, all was good.

Edited by Kaz Hayashi
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I'm quite good at impersonations so once whilst I was at school, my brother was telling me how his mate got away with not doing an assignment because the teacher totally forgot about it.  So I call the lads house, this was in the day before mobiles and caller ID, and made out I was the teacher and in a friendly manner asked if he could drop the assignment on my desk tomorrow.  On the bus the next morning he told my brother that Mr Toman had called him up about the assignment and had to miss football to do it.  My brother said "Yeah, that was Keith actually"  and the lad just sat in silence for the remainder of the trip.

 

I'd do a few at work as well.  The bloke who ran the temp agency was a sound guy, one day one of his temps announced it was his last day as he'd been offered a permanent job.  Because I was working a 13 hour shift I thought I'd pop that fucking bubble of his.  I called up his department under the guise of the bloke who ran the temp agency and convinced him that because he didn't give notice as per his contract, he wouldn't be getting his weeks wages.  He was so livid that his team leader knew what was going on, came to my section and told me to fuck off.  The lad saw the funny side.

 

There was another right Quim faced fuckhole who was as clever as he was handsome.  He was a Nickleback fan, let's leave it at that.  I phoned up his desk at work and when he answered, I said in my broadest Norn Irn accent "This is the voice of the Irish Republican Army.  A device has been hidden on your premises.  This is the result of the British government occupying the north of our country and for the atrocities your army has inflicted on our people.  The bomb is timed to detonate on 45 minutes, I suggest you use them wisely"  He was nearly crying as he replied "You what, there's a bomb in the warehouse, oh shit"  I replied "Is this the British Embassy?", "No, it's a DVD warehouse",  "Oh sorry mate, wrong number" and hung up.

 

He was a gullible bellend.  This probably isn't in the spirit of the thread as all of mine pranks tend to be born out of spite.

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God some of your pranks are cruel and fantastic. My favourite one was to screw my old mates bedroom door completly off its hinges so it wasnt attached to the wall at all then i placed in back on the door frame shut. The result was my pissed mate coming home with his one night stand and the pair of them going face 1st as he opened the door.

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I swapped the contents of a tin of Corned beef with Cesar dog food. Put it in the fridge and when the time came, told my mate he could make a sandwich. He eat all of it. After i told him what he had eaten he just shrugged and said it was tasty anyway. Grim.

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The food I buy my dog is probably at least as high quality meat if not better than what goes into corned beef; that stuff is rank.

 

I can't imagine how exhausting it would be to be in your group of mates, Gus. I'm glad you're having fun with it and I'm sure you've all got similar sense of humour and it's all just a laugh but it would do my fucking head in.

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Years ago when I was just an office junior, I got an email from a team leader saying he'd seen me misusing the internet and if it continued, he'd have no choice but to report me. It was actually sent by my work pal who'd managed to hack the teamleader's account. I've never been so mortified in all my working life. Sadly for my pal, he'd assumed I'd just pretend it never happened. But I didn't, I sent a grovelling apology. To the team leader who didn't write the email in the first place. So I confessed to everything and my buddy got a written warning for his hacking.

 

Best practical joke I've ever had played on me was by my fucking Mother! I used to work with my step-Dad and I went to London on a training course with some workmates, back in the late 90s. To cut a long story short, we stopped buying a tube ticket because no-one ever checked. On the last day there were random checks by the Transport Police. I fumbled around for an old ticket and got waved through but my mates got fines. Unbeknownst to me, one of my mates tried to claim for the fine on his expenses. He got told to fuck off but only after he'd coughed the whole story. My boss told my step-Dad and he told me Mam.

 

I arrived home from work a couple of weeks later to a grave faced Mother. She said she'd had a call from the Transport Police about me not paying tube fares and I was in due court the next day. I practically shit my boxers. Nice one, Mam.

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I bought a few of those plastic prank spiders from Ebay about 10 years ago, put it on the flat window-sill. Some junkie falls down the stairs and blames it on me putting the spider on the window-sill, miles away from him. End of my japing days.

 

IRA phone call is a belter. I'm knicking that.

Edited by bAzTNM#1
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There have been a few pranks over the years dished out.
One wound up requiring treatment as I superglued my mates top lip to his nose after he passed out drunk at a party. He had to go a Swiftcare clinic to get the lip sorted which cost me the guts of 200 bob.

 

Another one was when I worked for a law stationary firm in Dublin called T Kilmartins back in 1996. My mate Gar was accused of indecent exposure and being a nonce because he was sick one night with flu and sleptwalked out in the middle of the road at 8pm when we were all out sitting on walls and kids were on the road playing skipping and what have you. There was absolute pandemonium and mass hysteria from the childer and parents alike as his da Joe came running out with a blanket and put it around Gar like he was James Brown.

So, Gar – one of the most popular, hard as bricks cunts on the road - was in a bad place for a while and everyone calling him a paedo, weirdo etc and we tried to take a wide berth as well, but he was our mate so we had to kind of still hang around with him. He was fucking devastated, genuinely devastated that the kids saw it and he broke down crying one night, which unnerved us.

Anyway, I was in work one day and saw a few packets of Court Orders, Stamps etc. I filled one in – using my left hand which I can also write with - saying the Rocks (the boxer Jim Rock) family had filed suit against him for indecent exposure and sexual harassment against the children, then I stamped it, sealed it with the Balbriggan Court gold thingy and posted it.

Three days later of a Friday it went off. I got home from work and the lads said Gar was in bits because he’s been summoned to court. I held it together, giving it the “no way” because I knew one of them in particular would grass me up so I didn’t let them in on the jape. Joe (Gars da) went to Coolock Garda station with it and they actually verified it. Said he had to be in court on that date and the letter was legit due to the stamping, watermark etc.
We went down to the pub and Gar said he was going to go down to the Rocks in the morning to sort it out. True to his word, Gar goes to the Rocks the next day to offer his hand and plead his case and after being called every derogatory sex offender name on the planet, Frank Rock said (exact quote) “I didn’t go to the fucking police or courts! I’ll fuckin sort you myself you fucking faggot!” and Gar walked out of the driveway looking absolutely baffled.

About five of us jumped on the bus into town and I fessed up. The look of relief followed by realisation and anger, I’ll never forget. He swung at me with intent to decapitate me as I skidaddled down the stairs of the bus, slipping in panic and begged the driver to stop. So I jumped off the bus and absolutely booted it down the road, and I look behind, see the bus half pull off and stop as Gar, actually fell off the bus with rage onto this elbow and broke his wrist. He still got up and gave chase but I had to go back to him when I saw him sitting at a kerb holding his arm. So I gave him a free shot and because he couldn’t punch, he kicked me in the bollox full pelt after telling me he’d only kick me in the side of my thigh. So I cried...genuinely wept as I lay on the ground and he gruffly said “C’mom, we’re going to the hoppital”

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The only thing I can think of along these lines was back in the mid 90's.  A few of us played our part in signing up our years prime target for bullies up for the Television X "Search for a Stud" competition.

 

Overweight, foul smelling, hideous to look at, poor personal hygiene, there wasnt a box this kid didnt tick.  On a good day, he looked like Danny DeVito's penguin.

 

Cue vast quantities of brown envelopes arriving through his door full of sample grot mags, Explicit marketing calls to the family landline - now if that sounds like reward, not a punishment, the kids parents were staunch Roman Catholic so you can only imagine their reaction.  Also, although it was never our intention, they had to buy a new computer because of the crippling amount of virus spam they started to receive, ended up with dialers installed and all sorts....which suggests someone was having a good old browse through the emails as opposed to just deleting them!

 

 

Years ago when I was just an office junior, I got an email from a team leader saying he'd seen me misusing the internet and if it continued, he'd have no choice but to report me. It was actually sent by my work pal who'd managed to hack the teamleader's account. I've never been so mortified in all my working life. Sadly for my pal, he'd assumed I'd just pretend it never happened. But I didn't, I sent a grovelling apology. To the team leader who didn't write the email in the first place. So I confessed to everything and my buddy got a written warning for his hacking.

 

This reminded me of one of my favourite pranks, I didnt play it, but I was an element of the prank.  Some new guy at work had gone for a piss and forgotten to lock his machine - the usual initiation for rookies like this, was to send some sort of witty global email to the organisations along the lines of "I'm a wally".

 

On this occasion, I was sent an email from this guys account along the lines of "I know I haven't worked here long, it's always hard starting at a new company when you dont know the people, but you've been lovely to me since the moment I got here - that means a lot, a lot more than you realise.  I just wondered if, maybe, you werent up to anything and if you dont mind spending time with colleagues out of hours, I could buy you a coffee one night after work.." 

 

I dont remember the exact content but it was laden with erotic sub-context.  Poor fucker was mortified when I politely declined and couldnt look me in the eye for weeks afterwards.

 

and speaking of workplace pranks, this was more a case of vengance, but i'm counting it.  My first job aged 16 was emptying bins in an office block for 2hrs a night and £40 a week.

 

There was me, young and full of aspiration, and 5 elder women who frankly had landed on their feet securing a cleaning job as they were probably under qualified even for that.  

 

A few weeks in, and i get a bollocking post shit one night for missing bins - they were left in the aisle if they needed doing, so it was practically impossible not to spot one.  I was pretty thorough I thought, but I took it on the chin and paid extra attention the following night.  The next week, "Mark, i've already had to warn you once, you wont be kept on if this keeps happening".

 

Baffled I was.  Anyway, couple of weeks later part way through my round I realised I'd left an office key behind and went back to get it.  As I got there, I spotted Susan an utter, utter mongoloid, who couldnt have expected me to be there, pulling full bins out from under desks.  She was the designated cleaner for that area. turns out for whatever reason, she'd been putting bins back under desks, then, after knowing I was doing, going back and pulling them back out again so it looked like i'd missed them.  Why is anyone's guess, but Matrix don't play that shit.

 

Knowing of Susan's soft spot for Polo mints, before my next shift started, I made haste to the vending machine.  I carefully peeled back the foil and removed the first Polo.  I carried that Polo round in the crack of my arse for an entire shift, sweating like buggery - was hard work emptying bins!  At the end of the shift, I headed to the gents, where I rolled it along the floor from corner to corner, before rinsing off any debris in the urinal when it did it's autoflush.

 

After carefully reinserting a very tired looking polo mint back to its rightful place in the pack, I proceeded back to the staff room/cupboard.  "Anyone for a Polo mint?" I asked.  Sure as eggs is eggs, the dozy cow was all over it, too fond of Polo's to even check or she'd have easily spotted the majority of the word Polo had ebbed away under the punishment.

 

What I hadn't counted on was Doreen also taking me up on my offer, I gave her the next one.   She was off sick for the rest of the week.  Coincidence or collateral damage I didnt care.  Justice had been served.

Edited by John Matrix
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It was Year 11, and there was a lad called Mitchell. A fucking sound bloke actually. He usually walked with a limp due to a broken leg he suffered years ago, and we christened him "Peggy Mitchell" due to his peg leg. We would ridicule him by saying "Aaaah me leg" at him a lot.

 

Anyway, I was at home and I was testing out my Sound Recorder on my PC. I recorded some sound bites which I can't remember, but I did record myself saying "Aaah me leg". I saved it on a floppy disc (Old school as fuck mate).

 

I took the floppy disc with me to school the next day, as I wanted to save a Game Boy Emulator on it, and slotted it in during an English lesson in the library. I decided to play the "Aaaah me leg" sound bite to impress the lads. They weren't impressed. The volume was so low that it made it sound like someone was saying it from a distance. Another lad called Ranger who was no where near us thought it actually was someone saying it from a distance, and was all "Who's saying Aaah me leg? Is it Bunker?" Bunker was a dude who was in a different English class up the stairs from us. Ranger proceeded to walk towards the window, open it up and yell "SHUT UP BUNKER YOU WANKER" towards the floor above us.

I decided to antagonize Ranger even further by playing the soundbite again. "Don't make me come up there and knock you out, you queer!" Ranger yelled as everyone were trying their best to contain their laughter. I continued to play the sound bite in hopes he will catch on, but the more I played it, the more furious he was getting. Thirty seconds later, he realised it was me playing the sound bite as we all laughed at him. Humiliated, he called me a "queer" and a "wanker" before laughing.

 

Wow, that sounded better in my head than written down.

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Having the last name Jolly, one of my flat mates last year got into my room while I was in a night out and individually wrapped half the contents in wrapping paper before leaving them outside my door under a toilet roll Christmas tree. Didn't also tell me he cling filmed my door until I went head first into that too. I miss halls.

 

Best I can remember is freezing one kids cheese grater in a block of ice for him to find drunk, found him at 2am trying to chip away at it so he could use it before getting annoyed walking outside and lobbing it at the floor to get it free.

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I temped for the council in various departments in my early 20s. I had quite a good job in one department and thought I was going to be taken on to fill the job permanently. Instead, the knobhead of a boss gave it to some arse-kissing twat who was far less qualified.

 

On my last day, most of the team were out on some kind of event, so I thought I'd have a bit of fun and changed the autocorrect on MS Word on the computers, so that instead of saying "Will Rogers. Head Of Investment Services" when they typed any documents it said "Will Rogers Goats. Dickhead Of Investment Services". I also made various other changes, which I can't remember now.

 

I knew that no-one in the team knew anything about computers, so would have to call IT to come and fix it. They thought he was a twat as well, so I knew they would get a good laugh out of it.

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