This story is purely a work of fiction. The story does NOT describe real events and the characters are fictional. Any resemblance to real events or persons is coincidence. In keeping with its fictional nature, the events and activities described in the story may not be legal, ethical or safe. This site does NOT endorse or recommend their enactment.

Author’s Note: If the first parts were too mean for your liking, you won’t like this either. As David Cameron would say – “I get that.” Only proceed if you’re a full on humiliation nut like me.

After another restless night’s sleep, Sarah confided in me that her dreams were still being invaded.

This time, her nightmarish captors were pirate clowns. They made her scrub the deck of their ship and turned her chores into a repetitive comedy routine where she would be assaulted with alternating buckets of foam and water. Eventually, she was made to walk the plank above a sea of custard.

I couldn’t help but smile. She became increasingly frustrated with how lightheartedly I appeared to be treating the matter. She insisted that what the clowns were doing to her was wrong, however funny other people might find it. She spoke of reporting their activities to the police or getting a restraining order. Given that I am lawyer by profession, she respected my opinion on such things.

I duly informed her that if she were to march into any police station in the land and relate her tales of custard pie terrorism, she would most likely be sent on her way with a patronising pat on the bottom and  yet more laughter ringing in her ears. So she let the matter drop.

On the penultimate day of the holiday, her humiliation reached dizzying heights that I’m not even going to begin to describe in full.

Suffice to say that Sarah’s nephews tricked her into a photo opportunity that involved placing her neck and wrists in a mock up pillory. Sarah had witnessed several adults before her  doing the same thing to placate their children and have a silly photo taken. It appeared innocent enough to Sarah and she obviously didn’t see any great risk. Unlike everyone else, who all saw this coming a mile off.

The clowns appeared as if by magic and padlocked a stricken Sarah firmly in place. There was much verbal teasing before the action started, including the ostentatious discarding of the padlock key down a nearby drain grate by Stick, right before Sarah’s eyes and much to her consternation. Slap placed a saucer sized bullseye sticker onto Sarah’s forehead. There was nothing she could do about it. It didn’t survive the first salvo of messy projectiles anyway.

Some rotten eggs and mouldy tomatoes had naturally been procured for the occasion but, when the supply dried up, kitchen leftovers were made available to the crowd. Some improvised further with the contents of nearby waste bins.

Sarah protested, threatened, begged, pleaded, sobbed and lapsed into bouts of stoical silence throughout. All to no avail. Thankfully, she is one of those ladies who is far too demure to swear under any circumstances so the spectacle stayed family friendly. To the audience, she was a confirmed clown and her distress was all part of the act.  

Eventually, the clowns revealed that the pillory platform actually had castor wheels beneath it. They hitched the platform up to their Clown-mobile so they could transport the shamed Sarah around the complex on display to everyone. They referred to this event variously as the ‘Tour of Torment’, the ‘Ride of Ridicule’ and the ‘Drive of Derision’.

They moved slowly so that the jeering crowds could follow. They told the crowd that they should clean Sarah up but, because of a hose pipe ban, they couldn’t use buckets of water. The clowns asked the kids if they could persuade any dads to give up their pints of beer to give Sarah a bit of a rinse. This was clearly a cynical money making move. Probably sanctioned at the highest level of management. A pint of beer at Linbuts was well over £3 a go. By the time I was able to retrieve a distraught Sarah and return with her to our apartment, she’d been doused with gallon upon gallon of the stuff and smelled like a brewery.

On the final night, I’m not sure if Sarah even slept a wink. On this occasion, it may just have been because she was so excited about going home. We were due to leave at lunchtime. It rained all morning so we chose to stay in the apartment. Sarah was fine with this. She felt safe in there. She busied herself with packing the suitcases and choosing an outfit for the journey home.

Come noon, the sun was out again and Sarah was smiling. She had a sunny disposition for the first time in a week.

“We’re going home!” She clapped her hands gleefully. “No more clowns!” Her blonde hair was scraped back in a loose ponytail today. She was wearing her pink high heels, a white wrap around mini skirt (like a tennis skirt but much thinner material) and a pink T-shirt with a plunging neckline. On the front of the t-shirt was a white Nike logo and a slogan which read ‘Just Do Me”. Sarah thought it was a little vulgar but I always told her it was my favourite.

Soon, we were loading our suitcases onto the shuttle bus. We had all arrived a week earlier by train, considering the experience to be part of the holiday itself. The bus made regular departures to the nearby town where families made connections for their homeward journeys.

With a honking of horns and cheering from all bystanders in the vicinity, Slap and Stick on their Clown-Mobile were racing their way towards us, presumably to wish us farewell. Sarah’s face fell. This was the last thing she wanted. She did her best to ignore them.

But to no avail. The clowns pulled up next to us and came straight over to Sarah.

“We’re so sad to see you go, Big Top,” said Slap. “We just wanted to come and say goodbye and offer our apologies if we upset you at all.”

Sarah made no eye contact and kept her nose in the air, busying herself with lifting her suitcase onto the bus.

“That’s right,” said Stick. “That’s why we bought flowers.” Whipping the bunch out from behind his back in true conjuror’s style and presenting them to Sarah.

Her first instinct was to flinch away from whatever the clown was pushing towards her, but she could see her almost ready to give pause, thinking to herself “Well, it’s about time they did something nice…”. Again, anyone else would have seen it coming a mile off. She should have trusted her first instinct.

SQUELCH! a jet of thick blue ink squirted from a tube concealed in the centre of the flowers, spraying a shocked Sarah full in the face and splattering down onto her cleavage.

“GET OFF ME!!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!!” she spluttered.

“Okay, Let’s go,” said Slap hurriedly, nudging his clowning partner urgently.

Stick looked a little perturbed that their fun was finally at an end, until he realised what was afoot.

One of Sarah’s nephew’s had managed to get hold of the hem of her skirt whilst she was distractedly mopping ink from her features. With a strong bulldog clip, he had silently but firmly attached this to the wing mirror of the Clown-Mobile and was gesturing wildly to the clowns from behind his auntie’s back to make them aware of the opportunity.

“Yup. We’re off,” confirmed Stick – and they boarded, fired up and pulled away just about as quickly as they possibly could.

RIIIPP!

Sarah’s white wrap-around skirt, fastened only with velcro as it was, parted company from her waist and upper thighs, defecting in it’s allegiance to her body. It flapped triumphantly upon that departing wing mirror, as if the inanimate fabric were in cahoots with the clowns.

Sarah was clueless at first. The exceedingly rapid departure of the clowns plus the sudden outburst of laughter all around her told her that something was amiss. It was as if she noticed something white and flag-like hanging from the clown carriage at the same time as sensing an unaccountable intensification of the summer breeze playing around her legs. All of a sudden, her eyes went wide, her body went rigid, she dipped at the knees and her hands darted down to cover whatever she could cover.

“MY SKIRT!! THEY”VE GOT MY SKIRT! GIVE ME BACK MY SKIRT!”

“Come and get it!” laughed Stick. Slap was driving deliberately slowly now, enticing Sarah into a wild goose chase.

Fuelled by a mixture of embarrassment and anger, and with howls of laughter ringing in her ears, Sarah, in her pink high heels, pink T-shirt, red face (with streaks of blue ink) and white knickers set off at a brisk but nonetheless ineffectual trot, shaking her fist at the evasive clowns. They managed to drive a full figure of eight around the parking area with Sarah pursuing them like they were the Pied Pipers of Pie Throwing. The poor girl, huffing and puffing in her high heels, her boobs threatening to escape her T-shirt, did not gain or lose and inch of ground but kept on trying. 

It was genius. All it required in addition was the Benny Hill music playing in the background.

But then we had the bus driver to thank for the next development. He had finished loading on all the bags and said with an evil grin.

“Come on everybody, all aboard!”

We all obliged. We pressed up against the windows from inside, eager to see what Sarah’s reaction would be when she realised the bus was leaving without her. Setting off at a slow roll, the driver sounded his horn. That got Sarah’s attention.

“Wait! Stop! Don’t go without me!” She suddenly changed direction and began running towards the bus, waving her arms frantically, thoughts of retrieving her skirt forgotten. She was, however, able to go no faster than when she had been chasing the clowns. The bus driver kept it slow so that Sarah maintained hope that she would catch us, in the same way that the clowns had done. As for the clowns, they quickly saw the potential for further comedy. They did an about face and were now chasing Sarah at a veritable snail’s pace.

Everyone on the bus and all the bystanders who happened to be in the parking area were busting a gut. This was double genius with and extra helping of clever sprinkled on top.

Eventually, gaining no ground against the slow moving bus but persisting nonetheless, Sarah got to the point where her paving stone path ran out and she had reached the grass verge. A slight slope meant that the morning’s rain (remember, I mentioned it earlier?) had collected and quickly formed a mud puddle. Just as her rapid high heeled steps became more hesitant to cope with the change in terrain, Slap revved his engine in a burst of speed, only to slam on the brakes and halt in a perfect position.

The bulbous red clown nose, the size of a football and attached to the front of the Clown-Mobile, was now occupying exactly the same space where Sarah’s white lycra-clad, bouncing bottom had been an instant ago. Sarah had been displaced from her upright position at the side of the grass verge and had been catapulted violently forward, face first, into a pool of wet mud.

SPLAT!!!!

She slid a good few feet forward on her belly, like Kathleen Turner in ‘The Man with Two Brains”, before coming to a halt and laying there motionless for a full two seconds, like if she didn’t react to it then it couldn’t be happening. Then she started flapping like landed trout. Everyone was going mental with laughter.

At this point, I did the decent thing and got the bus driver to drop me off so I could go and fetch the sobbing, tormented blonde from the mud pit, where she lay face down making wet splashes as she pounded the ground with her fists in frustration, in a heartbroken tantrum worthy of a two year old.

The clowns had performed a vanishing act. They clearly felt that there wasn’t any way of topping this finale and had departed.

A little while later, I was sitting in the general manager’s office drinking a cup of coffee. The manager was behind his desk and the two clowns were sat in comfy chairs along the side of one wall. They reminded me of naughty schoolboys summoned to the headmaster’s office. Their faces a picture of defiant insolence tempered with false contrition. Their red noses and greasepaint looking more incongruous than ever in this setting.

Sarah was currently taking a shower in the wet room adjacent to the managers office. We no longer had an apartment to retreat to. I was involved in negotiations, at Sarah’s request, to see what level of compensation could be arrived at in recognition of her suffering.

Just then, we heard a muted shriek from inside the shower, followed by incoherent cursing and mumbling. A little while later, a damp and distressed Sarah emerged into the room wrapped in a medium sized fluffy white towel, pulled into place like a wrap-around mini dress. Her once blonde hair was now a shocking pink colour. 

“What is the meaning of this!?!” she said angrily, pointing at her ruined barnet.

“Pink,” replied Slap in a deadpan fashion, “Is generally regarded as a feminine colour. Often considered frivolous and lighthearted. Particularly favoured by women of limited intelligence or lower social status.”

“Colloquially known as Bimbos,” added Stick.

“Well, it wasn’t my idea. Someone must have deliberately put it in the shampoo bottle!” Sarah said accusingly.

The clowns shrugged like, don’t look at us.

Sarah asked me where her change of clothes was. I explained that all the suitcases had stayed on the bus. I had told her family to start the journey home and that Sarah and I would follow on afterwards. She seethed silently at me, then asked where her shoes, T-shirt and underwear had gone. She must have figured on using the towel as a skirt.

Everyone shrugged this time. The clowns smirked a little.

Then I dropped the bomb. I told Sarah that I’d been discussing compensation with the manager. We had worked out that the total cost of repaying Sarah for her ruined outfits was off-set by some extra charges on our bill. They had, in fact, added the cleaning costs for the dining room and pillory incidents to our bill and, given that we were still on site after checking out time, we had incurred an additional charge for that too. I’d already agreed with the manager whilst Sarah was in the shower that we would call it quits and just get the next bus out of there.

Sarah was not happy. Not at all. She wanted the kind of  astronomical reparation that a Rock Star gets when a tabloid newspaper says something unsubstantiated about them. She wanted to put the place out of business. She wanted them to feature on ‘Big Fat Embarrassing Holidays From Hell’ or some such TV programme. She wanted everybody to know just how mean and nasty and horrible they were.

The manager listened patiently to her rant and then asked if her could show her something. He rotated the laptop computer that was on his desk around by 180 degrees so that Sarah could see it. The browser was open on a YouTube page. The film that was silently playing was footage of Sarah’s inaugural performance in the circus tent. The manager pressed the volume button so that we could all hear the hearty laughter that accompanied the proceedings. Slap and Stick rose from their seats and came nearer to the screen so that they could helpfully read out some of the comments. There were all along the lines of:

“Muwahaha. The clowns owned that girl.”

“What a Loser. Nice tits though.”

and simply, “cl-OWNED.”

“Now then, young lady.” said the manager in an officious tone, shutting the laptop screen. “If you wish to pursue this matter it seems clear to me that public opinion will be on the side of the clowns and, therefore, on the side of our organisation. At present, your fame is confined to a corner of the internet. Are you prepared to see your story in your local papers? Or on national television? With no guarantee that you will be treated in any way kindly? Is this what you want?”

Sarah tearfully admitted that this was not what she wanted. The full horror of a very public, expanded, extended and incessantly repeated version of her humiliation began to dawn on her. If she had had a tail, it would have been between her legs right now, so to speak. She gave up. I made our apologies, thanked them for the cup of coffee and the use of the shower, and then we were on our way.

We began the walk back to the shuttle bus stop. Sarah cut a pathetic figure wrapped in just a towel, rat-tailed damp pink hair, no make-up and a good 3 inches shorter than normal in her bare feet. What the hell, she was still a stunner. She rested her head forlornly on my shoulder as we walked and I had my arm around her waist. I assured her that we would be going straight to a suitable clothes shop in the nearby town before completing our journey home by train.

Predictably, there was the honk of a car horn behind us. The clowns were approach on their motorised vehicle. I felt Sarah go tense at first and then heard her sigh as she went limp with resignation. She had come to the conclusion that she was powerless in their presence. Besides, what else could they do to her at this stage? 

“Don’t go yet, Big Top,” said Slap. “We’ve got something that belongs to you…”

He dismounted and produced a pie. The final pie of Sarah’s humiliating holiday from hell. There was nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide and no point resisting. She looked at me for support or intervention. All I could do was grin at the oddness of it all. At the clowns tenacity in pursuing their comic riff upon the unwilling stooge as far as they possibly could. Sarah rolled her eyes, let out a big sigh and actually said.

“Go on. I suppose you better let me have it then…” her voice dripping with disdain and defeat.

WUMPHF!!!

Pastry, custard, cream and fruit filling exploded against her and was liberally rubbed around her rigid, unresisting face. The foil pie tin was pushed back to rest on top of her head and the clowns nodded their approval to each other. Bemused passersby looked on. they were just arriving for their holiday and had no real context in which to place what they saw. It was clear they thought it was funny nonetheless. The clowns got back aboard their vehicle and manoeuvred it around whilst Sarah wiped goop from her eyes. They paused in front of us.

“One last thing,” said Stick. “You have something which belongs to us…”

“Yeah. Your towel. Property of Linbuts.” confirmed Slap.

And with that, Stick reached out, grabbed Sarah’s towel and firmly pulled it from her body as Slap accelerated away into the distance, honking the clown horn several times in triumph, leaving Sarah wearing nothing but a tin foil hat and a shocked expression beneath her mask of custard.

The End

Pied 59 has been uploaded at youtube.com/wamerific

For some reason the link points to Pied 58, please view my youtube page to see the new video

Well, I have a few stories under my belt here (along with some beans and other gooey things trapped under there), so I thought now would be a good time to ask if our intrepid readers would be interested in making the tales a little more interactive.  I was thinking of running the occasional competition, with the prize on offer being a part in the writing of these stories.  For instance, I could run a random drawing or ask people to comment with their personal stories of wam they witnessed in real life, and whoever wins or is selected could choose a celebrity for me to write about or have a story crafted for them with their avatar or own character introduced to Natalie or Scarlett.  I’m sure the girls would know just what to do next.

These are just examples, though, feel free to suggest your own.  I don’t know if people are interested in that sort of thing, and maybe a forum somewhere would be better suited to discussions of things like personal memories.  I just thought it’d be an idea worth exploring and a way to add a little fun and variety to the proceedings.

The jury rendered their verdict with the last poll: apparently most readers (almost 2/3s) believe that Scarlett got what she deserved.  Poor girl, but she can’t argue with the court of public opinion.  Well, she could, but she should probably take a shower first.  Meanwhile here’s another poll, don’t be shy about letting me know what you think:

Although this story mentions real persons, corporations, TV shows and places, it is purely a work of fiction for personal enjoyment. The story does NOT describe real events and should NOT be taken to accurately portray any real entity mentioned. Likewise, although these pictures feature real persons, they have been altered or created to show fictional situtations for personal enjoyment. The pictures do NOT describe real events and should NOT be taken to accurately portray any real entity. The events and activities depicted in either may not be legal, ethical or safe. This site does NOT endorse or recommend their enactment.

“Sebastian Coe, ladies and gentlemen. Now. From an Olympic winner…to a winner…of a very different kind. One of you out there, at home, could Win it Big tonight, before the end of the show.” Noel begins to jog to the other side of the studio via the stairs, perhaps for added drama. “Go to w-w-w-dot-noelshouseparty-dot-co-dot-uk and play the online version of our very own Hell-Copter game and answer the following question: What colour was the gunge we lavished on our house guests tonight? Once you’ve answered that question correctly you’ll proceed to the on-screen Hell-Copter game where you’ll have the chance…to…Win-it-Big,” said Noel. And without a trace of humour: “The highest score before the end of the show wins…nine hundred pounds worth of aviation fuel, which is incidentally the amount my helicopter requires to fly from Land’s End…to John O’Groats.”

Noel joins Rachel Riley attempting to console Blobby, who is sobbing uncontrollably on the sofa.

“How’s the tuition going, Miss Riley?”

She puts on her best acting voice: “I’m sorry, Noel, he’s just not taking it in. There’s no way he’s going to pass those exams…”

Noel shakes his head, pompously , his eyes half-closed. “Look, Miss Riley, I’m afraid that’s really a quite unsatisfactory performance. The school governors shall hear of this. So, if you’d care to come with me, this way.”

Rachel Riley smiles as Noel leads her gently by the arm, but then regards him in a quizzical manner, almost dragging her feet as he leads her up to the Gunk Dunk.

“Oh! No! What?” she exclaims, out of character. “You’re not serious…?”

“I’m sorry Miss Riley, I guess you and me were never meant to be.” Noel turns to the camera and pulls a lop-sided expression and brings out his ‘silly voice’ to match. “You’ve failed! Go on!” he snaps, with cartoon impatience, waving his hand. “Get up there!”

The utterly gorgeous Rachel Riley frowns and pulls down the corner of her mouth in a last-ditch display of reluctance. She removes her shoes , hesitates and then looks back to Noel before she slowly climbs the ladder to take her seat above the deep, green, thick, foamy gunge. We can see now that she is wearing seamed stockings.

The door bell rings, again. Ding Dong!

Noel ‘Tuts’ loudly. “Aww! Who can that be now? We’re nearly at the end of the show,” he pants as he sprints to the door.

As quickly as he can open it — to find nobody there — a freshly laundered Dave Benson-Phillips scampers up behind and pushes him comically out (a manoeuvre identical to the one carried out in an earlier series by Tony Blackburn), slamming it behind him. The audience roars, cheers and claps.

“Roooooiiiiight” shouts DBP, “Where were we? That’s right! It’s time to plaaaaay Get Your Own…” He delivers the last two words quizzically. “…House Party!…?”

The audience applauds and cheers.

DBP roars with laughter. “HA! HA! HA! HA! Now who’ve we got here?”

There is a cumbersome pause before Riley realises she must answer. “Rachel.” She’s grinning, self-consciously, her cheeks now pink. Her shapely calves bow gently as she idly rubs her feet together through the thin denier of her stockings, inches above the fathoms of wet slop.

“HA! HA! HA!” laughs DBP, with disproportionate vigour as he reads from the card he’s holding. “Now then, Rachel, you’re Crinkley Bottom School’s maths teacher, is that right?”

She puts one hand over her eyes. “Yes.”

“Let’s see who wants to Get their Own Back on you. It’s none other than one of your oldest pupils — MR BLOBBY!”

Blobby lumbers out, pink pvc and foam limbs flying. “Blobby-Blobby-Blobby!” he exclaims, cacophonically. “Gunky-Dunky!” and leaps right on top of Dave Benson Phillips, knocking him to the ground. A hand-held camera attempts the tricky job of tracking the pair at ground level as they scrabble and roll around the floor.

Meanwhile, Noel is heaving himself through one of the windows by the front door. Sweltering in his bulky Elizabethan costume, he scoffs a laugh as he stands and straightens himself up to speak. “We do have a winner of the Hell-Copter contest, by the way, £900 of aviation fuel is yours Jean Bell of Tonbridge.” Noel strides forward, ever the gameshow host. Then, he jogs the rest of the way over to the scrap going on beneath the Gunk Dunk and the first of the credits begin to roll along the bottom of the screen to a hushed version of the theme tune.

“What’s going on here?” inquires Noel, as DBP and Blobby scramble to their feet. “I’ve never seen such bad behaviour on the House Party before. Kicking me out of my own mansion? Taking over the show? Reprehensible. It’s a shambles!”

Rachel Riley, still poised over the gunk, looks on vacantly, wondering what’s going to happen and giggles as if to remind the others she’s still there.

“Look, Noel,” says DBP. “Why don’t we just bury the hatchet? As one gunge -lover to another.”

Noel looks at the camera, then back at DBP, totally deadpan. “Gunge lover? I despise gunge. Hate it.”

The final credit passes by below.

“Let’s at least finish what we have begun!” pleads DBP, over-theatrically.

“Blobby-Blobby-Blobby!” shouts Blobby.

Noel ignores them all and poignantly walks away, switching to his serious compere voice. “Well, that just about wraps up another show, my thanks to Rachel Riley, Sebastian Coe, Michael Sheen, Dave Benson Phillips and all my other guests. Next week we’ve got more of the same — but slightly different. Goodnight!”

The audience applauds, half-heartedly to fade.

The BBC ‘Dancing Hippos’ ident plays over the screen as the continuity announcer delivers the following line. “You didn’t think we’d leave you in the lurch like that, did you? Let’s return to the House Party for a few minutes to tie things up.”

We return to the Great House set and Noel, DBP and Blobby are gathered around Rachel Riley who remains in position over the Gunk Dunk.

“Er, welcome back!” says Noel, as if he’d rather be somewhere else and turns to Rachel Riley who is positively cringing in her seat with her legs tightly crossed and sighs. “Well, Rachel, if we really must, I think it’s about time we counted down to the Gunk Dunk.”

A smattering of groans from the audience, then the thirty-second theme music to Countdown plays and the audience claps along to the alarming rhythm of the Alan Hawkshaw composition during this drawn out interlude. As it reaches its crescendo, Rachel Riley really braces herself and places her hands over her face and…

…nothing happens.

There is a short silence as she opens her eyes — before blobby runs over to the lever of the Gunk Dunk.

“Gunky! Dunky!” he multi-howls and cranks the lever firmly down.

Rachel Riley is tipped swiftly forward and plunges into the goop and is quickly swallowed by its soft rippling mouth — completely submerged. Two seconds later, a ghost-like dripping, stringy goo-monster emerges, a small hole appearing around its mouth before its hands squeeze away the surface to reveal much of Rachel Riley’s glossy face beneath. Emerging from the slimy folds and tendrils of the waist deep sludge she takes in a deep breath and laughs hysterically. But it’s not over: A torrent of green sloppy liquid falls rapidly from some unseen place above and slaps and slops all over her and into the surrounding brew. Her face is once again subsumed and she wipes her eyes with her hands once again, her mascara smeared down her cheeks.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you…Rachel Riley.” Says Noel.

She scoops up handfuls of gunge and throws it quasi-crossly at her spectators. Another brief downpour of gunge follows. “I don’t believe it!” she screams.

The audience are uproarious.

“Where are you going, Blobby?” shouts Noel. “No…”

Blobby barrels himself over the side of the tank to join Rachel Riley in the vat, dragging her under. He clumsily tries to lift her up but they both end up splashing back down again.

“Goodnight!” says, Noel, finally, as the audience obliges with a clap — and fade out.

The BBC ‘Dancing Hippos’ ident fills the screen again. “Well,” says the continuity announcer, “what’s public service broadcasting for, after all? I thank you.”

So, the idea of running some competitions went down pretty well, with around 3/4s of people being in favour (which slightly more saying they’d want to watch than take part). I’m hoping this means we’ll get a few people playing along. For the first competition I thought we could try something fairly simple, so here goes:

- If you want to participate, comment on this post with your idea of how Scarlett should get revenge on Natalie for gunging her in her own bathroom (or explain why you think she shouldn’t get revenge at all).
- It can be as long or short as you like: your own fleshed out vignette, a few notes, even just a sentence.
- All who comment will be entered into a random drawing and whichever name I pick out of a gunge-filled hat will get their own standalone story with their avatar or character being written into an encounter with Natalie. Will they get revenge for Scarlett, or will they suffer her fate? We’ll find out…

Suzi Perry Pied

“So here it is Miss Suzi Perry will be getting pied today and she will get 20 pies in the face.”  “Now Suzi how do you feel that you have been gunged and you know want to pied.”

“ Well after being gunged I thought that being pied will put tick in that messy box.”

“Ok Suzi thanks for that now you have a choice after all the pies have would you like to have the same amount of bucket of gunged poured over you.”

“Well what do you think I don’t mind what you do but I will leave it up to you.”

“Ok Suzi one final question as there will be a lot of mess will you get pied with these lovely high heels or barefoot.”

“I will being this barefoot.”

“Ok then Suzi please take off your lovely high heels then and sit down over there”

“Right then Suzi here comes the first of 20 pies.”

As Suzi sat down in the seat looking forward to get the first of 20 pies in her face she waited and then splat the pie was in her face then she cleaned her eyes and clean some of the cream from her mouth she saw the host get the next pie ready before the pie came Suzi look down at her body and saw that some of the cream was down legs and some on her feet she look up and the host was ready and so was Suzi and then the host smashed the pie in her face and this time drag it up her face and on to her head and leaved the tin there for a bit one again Suzi cleared away some of the cream and look at the state of the messy and removed the tin. She saw that some the cream on her cleavage and she new that more of the cream was going to go down this area of her body.

The host then had the third pie ready and plastered it right in the centre of her face, Suzi after three pies look in a right state but she knew she had 17 pies left to go and did not clean her eyes and just let the pies come and they did. With some cream on Suzi cleavage it would soon drop down on to her boobs and chest the fourth pie came with such it force that it covered her whole face and neck and it would not be long before the host would make up his mind to gunge or not Suzi with 20 buckets.

The fifth pie did not make that much of a mess but the cream now covered her face, neck, cleavage, chest, legs and some on her feet. The host went and got the sixth and seventh pies and did a pie sandwich between the front of Suzi face and the back so with almost a head covered in cream the host got pie number 8 and nine and slammed the pies on the side of Suzi’s head now all the host had to do was with the tenth pie was to push it down on top of Suzi head and that is what the host did.

Now the cream covered her head, face, cleavage, the front of her, part of her legs and some on her feet. The host then got pie 11 and ask Suzi to stand up before Suzi stood up she cleaned away the cream that had built up over her eyes and she look at the messy around her. Suzi stood up and the cream that was on her cleavage fell and landed on her barefeet, as Suzi knew how messy she was she did not mind this at all. The host then put the pie down on the seat ask Suzi to sit down. Suzi sat and the pie splatted all over Suzi back and all over her bum.

Suzi now knew that with 8 more pies to go that mess was going to build up again but the host after she had sat back down ask her to lay down on the floor Suzi did just that and the host went and got the last 8 pies and brought them to Suzi. The host got pie number 12 and intend of put the pie in to Suzi face he went and put it on to her back and started to drag the pie down her back and over her bum. The host then got pies 13 and 14 and put one pie on each leg drag them down and over the soles of her feet and then the host ask Suzi set to sit back on the chair. 

Suzi now covered from head to the soles of feet Suzi new that the host was likely to get pies 15 and 16 and do the same as he did with pies 13 and 14. The host did just that he got pie number 15 and 16 and put them on her legs and drag them down but stop at her feet. The host then got pie 17 and put the pie next to Suzi’s feet and asked to left her feet and Suzi did just that and the host slide the pie under the soles of her feet and ask to lower her feet into the cream and Suzi did that and lowered her feet into the cream and the host kept the pie there. 

With three pies left the host went back to what he started with pieing Suzi in the face with the last three pies after he had done that he got the pie that Suzi had put her feet in he ask her to take her feet out of the pie and she did just that. The host then got the pie and shoved it right in to Suzi face. 

All of Suzi body was covered in cream and the host ask Suzi once again if she wanted to get gunged and Suzi said ” I will have two bucket of gunge please”

The host went and got two buckets of gunge for Suzi and the host went and pick up the first bucket of gunge and pulled the top of Suzi’s open and Started to pour the gunge down her cleavage and on to her boobs until the bucket was empty.

He got the last bucket and poured it over Suzi head and over her feet and after the host said “thank you Suzi for being great sport I hope you enjoyed being pied and gunged I also tried to covered as much of a possible. 

Suzi said “yes I did enjoy that I like the bit when you ask to put my feet to the pie and left it for a bit and then pied me with it.”

Miss Suzi Perry everybody

sorry about the change of font and my spelling also I got this from my old blog
 

This last-minute vote was posted to EC Gunge yesterday and I really should have reposted it here, but I was distracted with other things. Luckily the ECG votes (I guess most people here also frequent ECG, right?) were more than sufficient to carry the female to her messy doom.

@jessmcook gets gunged! The runaway winner in our online contest! @UCBMedia http://t.co/bVvqacGJ0A—
Mike Rimmer (@rimmerama) November 07, 2013

Anyone notice a pattern here with the Mary and John gunging: Woman ‘wins’, men get gunged as well anyway? I know it doesn’t really matter here, but this trend slightly annoys me because from experience it’s not often reciprocal…

Thanks to the Kansai Messy scenes blog. I was long hoping to see a return of the mud pit tug of war that once featured on AKBingo!, so I’m delighted to see it on sister show SKE48.

Torrent

Over the past few days I have had this thought in the back in my mind. I have watched loads of girl celebs getting gunged from Holly Willoughby to Carol Vorderman and it all ways plays on my mind was the dress or outfit brand new when you where gunged in it. The clip of Carol getting gunged on NHP in my opinion was set up but as she goes around the great house it looks like she does not mind the out fit that she is wearing get wreck.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gWXoEAu8Okw

Another clips is Holly Willoughby recent gunging on celebrity juice once again was the dress that she was wearing was that brand new.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6p-nadUIdcM

Now I might be wrong the outfits might be old and they did not care if they did get ruined but let me know what you think.

Messytv 

U

This happened a couple of years ago but we missed it. As always, this post is not endorsement of what occurred. I think this is the first time I’ve seen a triple-strike in a protest pieing.

Courtesy of Earth First! Journal:

Four Spanish men could face long prison sentences if convicted for pummelling a regional president with pies, in a case their lawyer has described as reminiscent of the Inquisition.

The men are due to appear in court in Madrid on Monday charged with “hurling said pie in the face of Yolanda Barcina Angulo in an energetic fashion”, in protest at the development of a high-speed train network that threatens forest land in the Pyrenees.

Barcina, president of the north-eastern region of Navarre, was left “dazed and disorientated” and her clothes were damaged, according to court documents. The incident took place across the border in Toulouse, where Barcina, of the governing rightwing People’s Party, was taking part in a public meeting in October 2011.

Black bikini top, green and yellow slime, and shredded paper this time.

Thanks to WAM photography. Apologies if someone already posted this to Finds; the video was uploaded yesterday but I’m not sure if it’s new. Anyway, two women get pelted while sitting on a throne.

It’s that time of year again…

• Best Celebrity Wamming with a fairly loose definition of ‘celebrity’.
   
• Best TV Show.
   
• Best Civilian Video/pics.
   
• The Holy Grail Award for best turn-up of an old, long-sought-after scene.
   
• The Goolitzer Prize for WAM literature and artwork.
   
• The Showercap of Shame for lamest scene or most frustrating escape.
   

I’m not going to write stories this year. This is partly due to time constraints (I only got through half the stories last year) and partly due to concerns over distorting the vote (obviously I want you to vote for which you think is the best scene, not who you want a story written about). That said, if anyone else wants to write stories, you are of course welcome.

Nominations will be open for the next three weeks. The vote will then run for two weeks, with results announced by the end of the year. You can make as many nominations as you wish, but remember to stay within 2013.

Disclaimer: Although this story mentions real persons, corporations, TV shows and places, it is purely a work of fiction for personal enjoyment. The story does NOT describe real events and should NOT be taken to accurately portray any real entity mentioned. In keeping with its fictional nature, the events and activities described in the story may not be legal, ethical or safe. This site does NOT endorse or recommend their enactment.

An apology- sorry this took so long, i had the majority of this written when my house was broken into and my laptop, among other things, was taken.  Every time I went back to start again, I would just get frustrated at what had happen and would not get anywhere.  Eventually I finished it, so here it is.  

 ”Welcome back everyone, the voting lines are now closed  so please do not try to vote anymore, it will not count and you may still be charged,” says Emma Crosby as the final part of the show starts.

 “There was a single vote between our competitors at the halfway point so no one was safe, but with the lines closed now, I can tell you that we have a clear winner so let’s get back our ladies on stage to see what they think this means for their chances of remaining clean and we will start with Odette.”

“Odette, at the halfway point you were heading for a messy forfeit for losing your gamble, with the results now in how do you think the voting ended up?”

“Emma, one vote is nothing, I am happy enough that I will get to have my revenge on Amber and remain clean.”

“We shall soon see but if you win then Camilla loses, so does she think that will happen?”

 “No, I’ll be getting my revenge, and I am certain that going for a level 3 gunging of Elisha will ensure my victory and see Elisha stripping to her underwear and getting gunged in that.”

“Of course if you are wrong it will be you being gunged in your underwear, but hoping that you are right is Amber.”

“I do, hope she is right, I think that Odette made a mistake going for a lower level so I am confident that I, along with Camilla, will be remaining clean.”

“Our fourth and final participant in tonight’s show is Elisha, and our last two ladies seem to think that she will have strip to her underwear and suffer the maximum level of gunging that this show has to offer, but does she think they are right?”

All this talk of having her strip has left Elisha feeling very nervous and this is reflected in her response to Emma, “I hope that enough people will have voted for me to remain clean, but I really don’t know what way the votes went.”

“Well let’s see shall way,” says Emma drawing a hushed silence from the audience, “as I said ladies the final result was not close, there were a total of 390 votes and our winner amassed a total of 268 of those which is over two thirds, and that lady is ………………………………………………..Odette.”

There is a moment of stunned silence from the crowd, it appears that they didn’t expect this result.  This is broken by a shout of joy from Odette and a sigh of relief Elisha, Amber looks resigned to her fate but Camilla looks truly shocked at the result.

“Odette you have been selected by our voters to have your revenge, you must be pleased?”

“I am, thank you to everyone that voted for this result, I hope you enjoy what is to come as much as I will.”

“I’m sure they will, why don’t you take Amber off to the side, because before we get to you Camilla has to pay her forfeit for failing to convince the voters of the merits of her arguments for gunging Elisha, something I am sure Elisha is happy about.”

“I am so relieved, I was quite worried it might go the other way but now I get to gunge Camilla instead.”

“And don’t forget, in her underwear as she went for a level 3 gunging for you.”

“Trust me I wasn’t likely to forget, so Camilla get rid of the dress would you,” says Elisha and not in the form of a question.

Camilla still looks shocked from the result and for a moment does nothing, she then opens her mouth to complain but thinks better of it, after all she can hardly expect mercy from the very person for whom she had planned this and she is soon standing in her navy underwear trying to cover herself up as best she can. 

“Come on Camilla, don’t be shy it’s time to get you strapped to the chair so we can begin,” says Elisha as she pulls Camilla’s left hand away from her body and leads her to the chair. Camilla takes her seat and watches silently as Elisha straps her wrists and ankles to the chair.

“There we go, already to begin, and I thought we might start with start with a substance that nearly all young actresses in Hollywood have to get used to, can you guess what it is?” Elisha pauses at this point to go and retrieve the bucket as all sorts of substances are suggested by the audience, each worse than the previous from Camilla’s point of view.

“Ew, no that’s disgusting,” responds Elisha to on particular suggestion that is not picked up by the studio’s mics.  “No, must young actress appear in at least one horror film, for me it was House of Wax, for Camilla it was When a Stranger Calls and you can be sure that at some point fake blood had to be used and so that’s what is in this first bucket,” says Elisha as she steps behind Camilla.  There is no doubt where this first bucket is heading for and Camilla closes her eyes as she awaits her fate.  Elisha raises the bucket over Camilla’s head and slowly starts to pour.  The fake blood runs through Camilla’s black hair leaving a very dark red.  Elisha spends some time pouring out the red liquid and eventually causing Camilla’s carefully held up hair to fall down over her shoulders.  It appears that there was a significant amount of the fake blood caught up in her hair as when her hair falls down a cascade of red flows over her face matching the colour of her lipstick. 

With the bucket now empty Elisha retreats to pick up the second bucket as Camilla tentatively opens her eyes.  She waits patiently for Elisha to return with the second bucket, it’s not as if she has much choice in the matter.  When eventually she does return she positions herself at Camilla’s feet.  “Camilla, I thought I’d stick to a classic for bucket two and that is mud, I’m sure you are used to mud baths so just think of this as one for your legs,” she says as she starts to pour out the thick mud over Camilla’s toes.  Camilla wriggles these as they disappear from view.  Very slowly Elisha moves upwards up over Camilla’s knees and onto her thighs were the majority of the bucket is poured.  There is still a small amount left and with a quick flick of the wrist Elisha covers Camilla’s knickers in brown mud. 

Despite her humiliation Camilla has to admit to herself that the sensation of mud seeping down between her thighs is far from unpleasant as the mud slowly begins to harden under the hot studio lights.  While Camilla has been taking in these sensations she has failed to notice that Elisha has pressed a button that causes the chair she is sitting in to start to move back and eliciting a scream of surprise from Camilla.  It doesn’t take long until she is completely flat on her back and is looking up at Elisha who is standing at her midriff bucket as the ready.

“Your head and shoulders are covered, your legs are covered, but your exposed torso is still relatively clean so it’s time to change that.  You are half Brazilian and there are two things I think of when someone mentions Brazilian,” says Elisha as she looks down towards Camilla’s ruined knickers.  Camilla takes a sharp intake of breath petrified at what Elisha might possibly have in mind.  “And one of those I have taken for inspiration today.”  Camilla is still no wiser as to what to expect from this bucket.  “Why it’s coffee of course silly, what were you expecting?” says a smiling Elisha knowing exactly the type of panic she had intended to cause.  “Now don’t worry, this coffee has been let cool down for some time, although it does seem to have had an effect on its consistency.”

Elisha is not lying, rather than a black water like liquid, what Elisha pours a dark brown sludge over the bottom of Camilla’s stomach.  Working slowly from side to side, Elisha makes her way up Camilla’s torso, where she has finished there is no evidence of Camilla’s skin tone.  Upwards and upwards she goes, leaving to Camilla to wonder if the bucket is bottomless, and yet the sludge continues to pour out as Elisha reaches her bra.  It too soon disappears from view, Camilla thinks that Elisha is spending a bit too much time here, and perhaps she is right, because it is here where the bucket is finally exhausted, much to Elisha’s disappointment.

“I was having so much fun, I didn’t want that to finish, but that’s it, I am out of buckets, but that’s not the end of the mess for you,” says Elisha as she starts to rotate the chair to its vertical position.  Some of the fake blood runs down over Camilla, the coffee sludge doesn’t move as much, while the mud has become so baked under the lights, that barely any of it moves.  “Again, I am a traditionalist so I thought that I would go with the nickelodeon green slime for your pool, so if you take a look below you, you should be able to glimpse this.”

Camilla is now fully vertical, with only the chair’s restraints keeping her from falling into the pool of bright green gunge that she can just see below her feet.  She now awaits the inevitable.

“Camilla, can I just say that I am delighted that you tried to get your own back on me because it put us both in the positions we are now, so without further ado…………”  With that Elisha presses the button on the remote sending a screaming Camilla falling.  From Camilla’s point of view the fall seems to take an eternity before she splashes down into the bright green gunge.  It is waterier than she expected which causes a bigger splash and for he to go further below the surface than she expected.  It also means that it can get everywhere and Camilla and feel the gunge covering parts of her body that were previously protected by her underwear.  It takes a couple of seconds of Camilla to emerge and when she does, she is completely coated in green, instinctively she raises her hands to her face to try to wipe away some of the gunge, but her hands are no cleaner than her face and this only serves to spread the gunge more evenly.  The crowd cheer as she slowly makes her way towards the edge of the pool.

Emma has returned to the stage and is standing beside Elisha, “Well done Elisha that was fantastic, you must be delighted at how it turned out?”

“That was so much fun, thank you for everyone who voted my way to give me the chance to do it.”

“Of course voting for you to be saved meant a vote for Odette to get her own back on Amber, so join us after the break to see that,” says Emma as the camera cuts back to show Camilla being help out of the gunge pool before fading to ads.

When the ads are over Emma has been joined on stage by a smiling Odette and a nervous looking Amber, “Welcome back everyone to the final part of the show, you all voted for Odette to have her revenge on Amber, and that is what is just about to happen, so Amber are you looking forward to this?”

“I am looking forward to it being over, but I intend to be a good sport, I just wish I hadn’t worn this dress.”

“”Well if Odette had gone for a level 3 gunging you would not have to worry about the dress, any regrets about not doing that now Odette?”

“None, I was happy at the time I made my selection so I’ll take it now.”

“Very well Odette, I will leave Amber in your capable hands,” says Emma as she walks to the side to the stage.

Odette takes Amber by the hand and leads her over to the chair which has been cleaned during the break.  “Why don’t you take a seat Amber while I get the first bucket.”

Amber does as she is told and carefully takes her place in the chair wondering what position would be best to protect herself.  It won’t really matter as she is going to get very messy.

“Well Amber I took inspiration from our film together which was filmed in Argentina, and when I think of Argentina I think of steak, I think plenty of people watching might consider you a nice piece of meat, so I think I shall add the sauce.  I couldn’t decide on which sauce to go for, so I went for a mixture,” says Odette as she raises the bucket. 

Amber instinctively raises her hands to cover her face.  “Hands down Amber, we don’t want to spoil it for everyone.”  Amber complies but has to close to grip the hand rests to stop her from raising her hands again.  She closes her eyes and waits for the sauce to impact her face, but that is not the target that Odette has in mind.  Having taken a deep breath to prepare herself, Amber has presented Odette with two targets that cannot be ignored.  To the cheers to the crowd Odette starts to pour the sauce over Amber’s chest.  Amber’s eyes open wide as she feels the thick brown sauce cover her breasts and slide down between.  It is only at this point that she notices the smell.

“Oh my god, what is that?”

“Well I said I went for a mixture,” says Odette not pausing for a moment in pouring it out, “it’s a combination of mushroom sauce and garlic butter!”

Amber wants to cover herself up against the continuing onslaught but just continues to watch as Odette moves down her body ruining her dress with the brown gunge.  It pools her in lap and slowly she can sense it seeping through until she can finally feel it flow down between her legs. 

There is still a small amount left in the bottom of the bucket and playfully Odette throws this at Amber’s face, catching the left hand side of this along with her blonde locks.

“Unfortunately I only have two buckets for you Amber, and this is my second, one thing we needed on the film shoot, particularly you given your fair complexion, was sun tan lotion, so that is what I have for you.”

Amber can’t imagine this will be too bad as she watches Odette pick up the bucket and head towards her.  Odette stands by Amber’s head and then slowly tips the bucket over Amber.  A thick white gunge lands on the top of Amber’s blonde hair.  As Odette continues to pour it slowly covers Amber’s hair and forehead.  Like an alien blob from a fifties sci-fi movie it moves slowly but relentlessly down over Amber, her face completely hidden under a blanket of white before long.  It splashes with loud plops down onto Amber’s sauce covered torso.  As it is sun tan lotion it has a tendency to stick to bare skin where it finds any so even after Odette has finished the bucket a white layer still covers Amber’s face and she has to wipe it from her mouth to breathe.  Amber doesn’t notice as Odette presses the button to start the chair moving.  At first it flattens so that Amber is on her back, and then starts to rotate upwards.

“Amber I guess you are wondering what awaits you in the pool below, well we spent some time at the beach during the shoot, so I wanted to bring you back to that by bringing a little bit of the beach here, so in the pool there is a mixture of seawater and sand just for you.”

As the chair continues to rotate, Amber knows that she won’t have very long before she falls down, in fact she can already hear some of the brown slide over the chair and slip into the pool below.  And then it happens, after a false start she finds herself falling before splashing into the sandy water.  She drops below the surface causing the liquid to flood in through her dress leaving her completely soaked.  As everyone knows sand and suntan lotion don’t tend to mix very well and when Amber’s head emerges from the water her head and shoulders are completely coated in sand and lotion.  The flood of liquid into her dress has caused this to sag dangerously but Amber quickly saves the situation before it gets any more embarrassing for her.

“Well then Odette ,” says Emma, “you came here to get your revenge, did it live up to your expectations?”

“Absolutely Emma, I had great fun,” replies Emma.

“I am not sure Amber did, but nevertheless that brings us to the end of the show I hope everyone enjoyed it and we will be back very soon, goodnight.”

“@univofstandrews: Happy Raisin Monday! http://t.co/sFsCk6ob” they look like they've had fun!—
Visit St Andrews (@VisitStAndrews) October 29, 2012

GUNGE TANK emilyhelen_ instagram.com/p/gMjQqCimR5/—
Liv Garner (@oliviagarner) November 02, 2013

absolutely nothing makes me happier than to see this old bag of bones being gunged. HA http://t.co/iHYBcHUiQ9—
@conorjackson_ (@conorjackson_) October 31, 2013

@OceanaCardiff didn't disappoint class night out and we got gunged #loveit http://t.co/jopgWrxmNH—
Gabby (@Gabbyella12) November 01, 2013

Pie me in the face so I know it's real http://t.co/vtnvLZ2XEW—
Tian Luo (@TianLuo_) October 29, 2013

No better way to get off on the right foot with your new roomie except to pie her in the face 😂😘🎂 @kkkylie442 http://t.co/oH8REUNrC1—
lindsey ❁ (@Linds_Burgess) October 31, 2013

Never let a guy pie you in the face. @EricT_Black8 http://t.co/d7fMhLrTJg—
coυrтɴєу ℓуɴɴ.♛ (@CLF_15) October 29, 2013

Whenever I'm feeling super crappy I just think of my best friend @nicoleobrien175 on Pie A Theta Phi Day 😂 http://t.co/88OOrx1csZ—
Jessica Cutter (@jessicacutter) October 31, 2013

Pie a rugger for a dollar outside Hofstra hall! @HUWRFC 🍰 http://t.co/aIY2lPmByc—
Kaelyn Ragonese (@kaelyn_ragonese) October 30, 2013

Smashing a pie into "Mrs. Jones" face. I loved every second http://t.co/vuVS2UF8RX—
Rachel Jones (@rachel_mjones) October 28, 2013

EVERYONE come pie my Greek mom in the face today for charity at the MLK commons until 3!!!!!! #ΑΣΑ @TiffanyPersels http://t.co/SJPLpOrXn6—
Jessica Rose (@je551r0se) October 31, 2013

PIED FOR PI PHI!!! @schmegme http://t.co/iJz5Q8RpbA—
ʝαмιє яσѕє fιиє✨ (@jayroo1) October 26, 2013

praxe de curso , quinta feira negra * http://t.co/972xzysGIy—
Estela (@estrelaapolar) October 25, 2013

バイト前にかなやんにサプライズしたら案の定のこの結果。
いちにち早いBIRTHDAYサプライズ。顔面ケーキとビールかけ。
かなやんおめでとう♡
ごれんじゃー最高♡♡ダイスキ http://t.co/Oppp6X0jKV—
ａｙｕｍｉ (@u_aym) November 22, 2013

Messitval very messy games	Angie – Marks & Spencer Bath Of Beans	piggy bank nursery bean bath
PART 3 ASHGATE HOSPICE BEAN BATH	Welcome to the Green Room page for Asda Pillgwenlly Superstore	Children in Need day
Bobbie & Sarah Get Gunged	Gunged for Children in Need!	CHILDREN IN NEED THE GUNGING OF NATHAN AND CLAIRE!!!!!
Children in Need 2013 – the gunging!	Novatadas	Novatadas
Raisin Monday	Beautiful Day for a Foam Fight	Raisin Monday 2013
Пенная традиция старейшего университета Шотландии	In pictures: Raisin Monday foam flies at St Andrews University	บรรยากาศ งานRaisin Monday ในสกอตแลนด์
Raisin Monday St Andrews University	Gunged for Children in Need!

True Presents “Slimed”	Annie Slimed for Nostalgia	slimed 45 : Mother daughter fight	slimed 46 : Going Commando
The Many Ways To Enjoy A Booger-Green, Slime Smoothie (thanks to CS and Happygoatdonkey)	Messy Montage	Covered in Green Slime	Birthday Pie Surprise
Covered in Pies	Girl gets Slimed for a commerical	The Sludger Gunge Gameshow (thanks to Y2Gunge)	Recibida Anto
Recibida Flor	Naty Fiorito se recibe	ME RECIBI !!!	Romi y Nico recibida
Recibida Luli	Recibida de Zoe 2/3	Me recibí de Bioquímica!	Novatadas odonto 2013
Novatadas Odonto 2013	Las ‘novatadas’ de San Lucas ensucian el centro de Granada	Novatadas IQ Ingeniería Química USAL 2013
Trote UFPB Engenharia Civil 2013.2 parte 1	Trote Unifoa 2013.2	Trote da Turma de Enfermagem 2013.1 na Turma 2013.2 – Parte III	Splatt-A-Sabb 2013
The Best Friend Challenge	Foam Fight	Raisin Weekend 2013	St Andrews University students mark the end of Raisin Weekend
IN YOUR FACE	Girls Prank: Back Machine Surprise Prank	cream pie challenge (bestfriend tags)- peanutbuttel andjerry	Minisode: After The Pie
Jesus e Lee – Torta na cara.	Sarah Smashing her face in a cake	Little Things Can Make A Big Impact…like Pie!	Communications Lab Pie in the Face Contest Winner #1
Cristy (Pie Face) Archer	Sts. Peter and Paul – Pie in the face – 2	Belle Coaches Take Pies to the Face	Pie A Greek
You’ve Got a Friend in FV KIWIN’S Social: Board Pieing Edition!	Pie #1	Pie face	Pastelazo
Pastelazo Familiar	20131107 生日大砸派	生日砸派秀	【大惨事】お誕生日サプライズ【日本エレキテル連合】
あやな HBD 17th ②	バキューム ポリリズム（プリン）	2013-04-21 バキューム – ポリリズム	バキューム feat.Chatter Box　『チョコレートディスコ』　2013/02/15＠代官山
パイ投げは残酷で…	Manny Badijosie and tony get pied llo, 9/11 Family Member	josie and tony get pied	Reverb ladies getting pied 11-10-13
Pi Day Promo #1 IOH School	UCDCKINMIB2013 Pies		Silent Hill Nurse *CHALLENGE ACCEPTED*
pied 1 : limbo dare, but with music	Carma getting pied!		Ashley Getting A Pie To The Face
Pie in the face	罰ゲーム　水をかけられる女	AIESEC Southampton Elections 2012/13 – VPOGX	ตกน้ำป๋อมแป๋ม.mp4
สาวน้อยตกน้ำ hv204/208 tourism[scc]	Executive Board 2011/2012 Wrocław UE AIESEC in Poland	DUNK TANK	SANDYVERSARY
Bikini Car Wash – Hot Cars, Even Hotter Bikini Babes & a Dunk Tank

Hi There

So the Vote for the next telly messy is between Natalie Pinkham VS Denise Van Outen

the winner is for messy telly is…….

Denise van outen