Oh, this poor, poor bastard. Just look at his face after experiencing a terrifying dinosaur prank on a Japanese TV game show.

This particular prank is “up there” on the shit-your-pants-silly stress-o-meter.

 
Via reddit

 
This could possibly be the meanest funniest prank I’ve ever seen.

I’m surprised no one keeled over from a heart attack. I’d have, for sure, peed in my pants.
 

 
With thanks to Todd Philips!

 
Being sent to prison for defacing library books was the making of playwright, Joe Orton. It gave the him isolation from the intense and difficult relationship with lover, Kenneth Halliwell, and allowed him to break free creatively. Orton had been in awe of the older Halliwell from their first meeting at RADA (Royal Academy of Dramatic Art) in 1951, and the two were soon lovers. The poorly educated Orton flourished under Halliwell’s tutelage. However, by the end of the decade, he had outgrown his mentor’s teachings. Moreover, as they lived, loved and wrote together, the intensity of their bond stifled Joe from finding his own creative voice and ambition.

Between 1957 and 1959, the pair took jobs to help Halliwell’s dwindling inheritance. With their earnings they purchased a small 16’ x 12’ one-room flat, at 25 Noel Road, Islington. It was to be their home until the fateful night Halliwell bludgeoned Orton to death with a hammer, before overdosing on 22 Nembutals.

This tragic murder has always overshadowed the love and joy the couple shared. Their love wasn’t all doom and gloom as some would have us believe. No. Theirs was a shared glee that fatefully led to the prison sentence that changed their lives.

Annoyed at the poor selection of books in their local library, Orton and Halliwell concocted their own unique revenge. Together they stole and defaced approximately 72 books, and removed over 1,653 plates - many of which adorned the wall of their bedsit (see photo above). Theri actions were nothing more than jolly schoolboy japes. The pair stole and carefully modified the cover art or the book’s blurbs before returning them to the library. A volume of poems by John Betjeman was returned to the library with a new dustjacket featuring a photograph of a nearly naked, heavily tattooed, middle-aged man. A copy of The Plays of Emlyn Williams was altered to include such titles as “Knickers Must Fall”, “Up the Front” and “Fucked by Monty”. Bentz Plagemann’s novel The Steel Cocoon was re-covered with a picture of young man’s groin in tight, white trunks. Phyllis Hambledon’s book Queen’s Favorite had an image of two men suggestively wrestling or buggering each other on the front, and an oiled Adonis in supplication on the back. As Orton later recalled:

‘I used to stand in the corners after I’d smuggled the doctored books back into the library and then watch people read them. It was very fun, very interesting.’

The authorities didn’t think so, and when the pair were eventually caught, they were charged and tried in May 1962. The arrest was reported in the Daily Mirror as “Gorilla in the Roses” - referencing one particularly surreal cover of a grinning ape stuck atop a rose. Orton and Halliwell were charged with five counts of theft and malicious damage, were fined $400 and jailed for six months. The pair thought the sentence was unduly harsh “because we were queers.”

While prison life made Halliwell more introspective and morose, Orton thrived. He was free to do as he pleased, and as being a prisoner allowed him to clearly see the corruption and hypocrisy at the heart of liberal England.

“It affected my attitude towards society. Before I had been vaguely conscious of something rotten somewhere, prison crystallised this. The old whore society really lifted up her skirts and the stench was pretty foul… Being in the nick brought detachment to my writing. I wasn’t involved anymore. And suddenly it worked.”

Released in September 1962, the couple returned to Noel Road - Halliwell to lick his wounds; Orton to start his career as a dramatist, writing such marvelous black comedies as Entertaining Mr. Sloane, Loot and What the Butler Saw. Interestingly, Orton’s last commission before his death was a screenplay for The Beatles called Prick Up Your Ears - how different things could have been if the Fab Four had made Orton’s script about revolutionary anarchists rather than The Magical Mystery Tour

Orton’s and Halliwell’s vandalized book covers can be viewed here.
 

 
Bonus clip The Crimes of Joe Orton, after the jump…
 

 
Hilarious and potentially suicidal prank by the Nut-tea party in Boston this past tax day.

I kept my sign raised proudly, even when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Soon the tapping was on both shoulders, but I kept my sign aloft—until someone forcibly pulled it down.
Now there was an altercation. Someone was climbing on top of me, using my back as leverage, to rip my sign down. Because I had on an enormous gay hat, this drew everyone’s attention—including Sarah Palin, who briefly looked up from her notes to register what was happening, then back down again, unable or unwilling to stand up for the rights of ham lovers.
I regained control of my sign, landing it on the ground in front of me. Suddenly I found myself surrounded by three burly men: one squeezing himself directly in front of me with a Sarah Palin sign so I could not move, a leather-clad biker type pressing against me on my left, and a bulky fellow on my right who started forcibly pulling my signs away from me.
It was freaky: I was in the middle of a huge crowd, with three guys who could easily take me out (I’m small). I didn’t know if they were hired guns, or just loyal patriots, but they were definitely coordinated, and angry. I sat through the next few minutes of Palin’s speech, engaged in a quiet tug-of-war with the guy trying to steal my signs. My mind was racing, weighing whether it would be worth the risk to display my second sign: OY, MY BUNIONS.
I was truly scared. On the one hand, these guys could follow me back to my car with chains. On the other hand, I only wanted to complain about a structural deformity of my foot. Didn’t I have the right, as an American, to kvetch about the enlargement of tissue around my big toe?
As Sarah Palin crescendoed into a rousing description of the bravery of our founding fathers, of their courage in opposing unfair taxes, I took her lead and fearlessly held up my sign.
There was an immediate cry from behind me to PUT THE SIGN DOWN, followed by a chaotic moment in which TWO guys surged forward to wrench the ridiculous signs from my hand. I was shoved down to the ground, stepped on, and kicked.
I clawed my way back up, determined to follow the guys hauling off my prank signs. The crowd was shouting at me now, shoving me forward. Someone ripped off my watch; someone else stole my hat. I luched forward, desperate to escape the melee. Mobbed to death at a Sarah Palin rally. That would be an embarrassing way to die.
To encourage oil drilling in protected American lands, Sarah began leading the crowd in an angry chant of “DRILL BABY, DRILL!” as the crowd pushed me out like a kidney stone. I was about thirty rows from the stage before the jeering and taunts finally died down. I looked over my shoulder, but no one was following me. I was safe.

 
(The Tea Party Prank: How I Got My Butt Kicked (Literally), Just a Few Feet Away From Sarah Palin)
thx Jon Charles Newman !

 
Here in the US we have Chupacabra.  In Japan they’ve got Kappa, which, according to various sources, dwell in lakes and rivers and have shell-covered, shiny-skinned bodies with either beaked or ape-like faces (either?!).

That’s all necessary background, mind you, for the following clip from the same Japanese hidden camera show that brought you, a few weeks back, that hi-larious faux sniper attack prank.  Watch below as actress-model Yukina Kinoshita has the living crap scared out of her by a village of cucumber-offering Kappa believers.

 
(via, what else, Japan Probe)