Sweet Revenge: 200 Delicious Ways to Get Your Own Back

in any further sexual activity with any partners of either sex and, in order to reduce the spread of infection, please forward us a list of all your sexual contacts during the past eight years.
Please do not panic. It is possible that you are not a carrier and, even if you are, recent medical advances have vastly improved the treatments and life-expectancy of sufferers. If necessary, our counsellors will be available to explain the nature of your illness.
Yours sincerely,
Dr A Scholes.
     
    Our hero was petrified. He spent a day arranging his funeral and putting his business in order. He telephoned the hospital to contact Dr A Scholes but they had no record of him, nor had any of its sister hospitals. After forty-eight hours of cold sweat and tears, he worked out that his dear friend Bob was behind this. Right, he thought. Photographers use models. Time for revenge.
    Piers managed to get some letterhead from one of the UK's top model agencies and invented a story to get his own back on Bob. His letter read:
     
Dear Bob,
I have been informed about allegations that have been made about you concerning a sexual assault on one of our models, Sophie Anderton, on a recent shoot. Obviously we have to take this matter seriously and I believe that the police have been informed so that they can make their own inquiries. I do hope that this matter can be resolved quickly so that your reputation need not be tarnished more than necessary.
    Yours sincerely,
     
    This was followed up with a solicitor's letter informing him of criminal proceedings.
    Unfortunately, the correspondence went to the wrong studio where it was leaked to the press and what started as a merry joke between friends was to become a living nightmare for both Bob and Piers.
    The first Bob knew of it was when a group of paparazzi arrived outside his darkroom. The phones started ringing and the world's press were on to the story - the private joke had become a public concern -'the world-famous photographer and the under-age model.' Bad enough if it is true but far worse if it is nothing but a joke gone wrong. The News of The World wanted to run the story and it took the combined efforts of Piers, Bob and a barrage of solicitors and injunctions to prove it was nothing but a hoax.
    - with thanks to Piers Adam and Bob Carlos Clarke for letting us use the story.
     

     
    Oh, how she wanted to get her revenge on her husband but they were both caught out hook, line and sinker. He telephoned her to say he would be back very late that evening as he was in a meeting with Peter Taylor and would be going out afterwards. She knew he wasn't telling the truth. Peter Taylor was lying next to her in bed.
     

     
    A sexy Soviet was treated in hospital for swelling and inflammation. His wife had discovered he was being unfaithful and found a condom hidden in one of his pockets. She carefully opened it, put in a little ground pepper, resealed it and slipped it back into its hiding place.

    When Phillippa Arugez received an anonymous parcel containing a pair of her husband's boxer shorts and a mocking note, she decided revenge was in order. While he was asleep, she poured a pan of molten candlewax over his private parts. Three skin graft operations later he decided that the marriage had run its course.
     

     
    The other diners in the restaurant were, as one does, trying to look as though they were taking no notice but at the same time hanging on to every word of the arguing couple in their midst. Even the most stoic among them could not contain their mirth at the grand finale.
    When the girl got up to leave the man unzipped his fly, pulled out what could only be described as a whopper, plonked it on the table and cried, 'Well, you won't be wanting any more of this then I presume.' Exitone very red-faced ex-lover.

     

Nasty Neighbours
     

     
    A man that studieth revenge keeps his own wounds green.'
    Francis Bacon, The Essays
     

Nasty Neighbours
     
    An uneasy peace reigned between two neighbours in a genteel and leafy part of Ealing. Their mutual loathing was no secret in the area and there had always been feuding over the exact position of the dustbins, the positioning of cars when parked and endless problems over noise and boundary walls. The relative tranquillity was shattered in spring when the crocuses came up. They had been planted in formation to read: 'We hate the Bartletts'.
     

     
    Following a blazing row over a skateboard which ended years of friendship, a woman