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It seems the major form of prankage is to do something to someone's living quarters while they're absent (sorry, shaving foam & cigarette butts on face whilst alcoholically incapacitated cannot be awarded the heady title of 'prank').
Imagine, if you will, a University of Newcastle-Upon-Tyne halls of residence (the name escapes me now - Spittal Fields?) in the academic year of 1989/90. Rumour had it that the main design criterion was to afford the inhabitants the absolute minimum living space required to keep a person sane. The design and layout were but a minor deviation from that of a Swedish open prison, or so the rumour said.
To that end, all rooms were identical right down to the furniture and arranged in strata of corridors, stacked one upon the other for several floors, the exact number of which escapes me now.
Anyway - let me cut to the chase. One of my fellow first year students was celebrating his 19th birthday so we sallied forth to a pub on Newcastle's waterfront called The Cooperage, a 16th (?) Century pub that boasted an exhaustive list of dark and dangerous Real Ales.
We challenged said birthday boy to 'Do. The. List.' - no small undertaking, even for a seasoned alehead. The challenge was accepted and quaffing ensued.
> fade to several pints hence <
Birthday Boy (known as BB from hereon in) is now slumped on a seat, tilted pint held tenuously in a fragile grip, one eye closed, the other trying to be. Exit stage left three members of the group, destination BB's halls of residence lodgings, located on 4th or 5th storey of said halls.
Cue frenzied removal of bedding, posters, books, strewn-about clothing, ornaments, etc. for hasty re-assembly in a pre-emptied room on the ground floor, the object being to replicate BB's room, but at ground level. Our giggling perps wobble back towards The Cooperage, whereupon the assembled party declare it time to go back to BB's room for a smoke, etc...
Five or six of us accompanied BB into the halls of residence lift following an eventful (as far as vomit can be considered an 'event') taxi ride. Once ensconced in the elevator utmost calm is observed in order to maintain BB's angelic stupour. The lift is directed to the 3rd floor, whereupon we reverse its direction, taking it straight back to the ground floor, whereupon we lead BB to 'his room'.
As soon as "BB's room" is entered the mood takes a sudden, dramatic change for the worst - as agreed we pick him up by the extremities, jolting him into awareness, and begin to explain how we never really liked him at all. In fact, he's a total twat and we've decided we're going to throw him out of his 5th floor window to his death because it's the only way we'll ever be rid of him.
A child-like bewildered frown develops on BB's brow. His eyes scan the area, only to see another of his 'friends' drawing open the curtains and sliding open the window. The frown turns to abject panic, accompanied by a cacophony of assorted screams, pleas, oaths and sniffs, whereupon we hurl him through the window's gaping maw to fall 3 feet onto the soft turf outside.
What we planned to be The Best Prank Ever only ended up leaving us all with an overwhelming sense of guilt and remorse as, laughing, we peered through the window to see BB quivering and weeping, snot bubbling from his nose, curled up foetus-style on the grass.
Still, I'm sure he remembers it with a certain fondness. |
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