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The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Seventh Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
Take the Dante's Divine Comedy Inferno Test
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The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Seventh Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
| Level | Score |
|---|---|
| Purgatory (Repenting Believers) | Very Low |
| Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers) | Very Low |
| Level 2 (Lustful) | Very High |
| Level 3 (Gluttonous) | High |
| Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious) | Low |
| Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy) | Very High |
| Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics) | Extreme |
| Level 7 (Violent) | Extreme |
| Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers) | Very High |
| Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous) | High |
Take the Dante's Divine Comedy Inferno Test
Recent front page messages:
none
Best answers to questions:
» Buses
Sixth formers
I once witnessed a very large, trenchcoat wearing sixth former from another school, whom we shall call G, yank the RnB blasting phone from the hands of a swearing Year 8, whom we shall call D, snap it in half at the hinge, then throw it out the window. Threats of a knifing at the hand of an apocryphal big brother were met with a genuine look of excitement and attempts to organise the thing more officially.
Shaken and now perplexed, D went along with it. They were to meet in a cul de sac in an extremely rough part of town after school.
The next day, D wasn't on the bus. It turned out G had turned up unarmed, except for the 2 police cars filled with serious men in stab vests hidden around the corner. This became 3 cars, then one of those vans you see on a Saturday night, because D had apparently enlisted his entire estate to help him out, and they were all carrying a knife, some drugs, or both.
G went on to nail my sister, and I couldn't have been happier.
(Fri 26th Jun 2009, 0:37, More)
Sixth formers
I once witnessed a very large, trenchcoat wearing sixth former from another school, whom we shall call G, yank the RnB blasting phone from the hands of a swearing Year 8, whom we shall call D, snap it in half at the hinge, then throw it out the window. Threats of a knifing at the hand of an apocryphal big brother were met with a genuine look of excitement and attempts to organise the thing more officially.
Shaken and now perplexed, D went along with it. They were to meet in a cul de sac in an extremely rough part of town after school.
The next day, D wasn't on the bus. It turned out G had turned up unarmed, except for the 2 police cars filled with serious men in stab vests hidden around the corner. This became 3 cars, then one of those vans you see on a Saturday night, because D had apparently enlisted his entire estate to help him out, and they were all carrying a knife, some drugs, or both.
G went on to nail my sister, and I couldn't have been happier.
(Fri 26th Jun 2009, 0:37, More)
» Gambling
First day at a new job
Over lunch, the boss boasts that she can eat a whole muffin in one bite. She proceeds to prove this, to much eyerolling from the jaded crowd.
"I bet I could do that." I whisper quietly.
"Go on then. Do it and you get the afternoon off, paid." she challenged.
So I did. With the biggest one in the pack. Much cheering ensued.
The cheering turned to cries of "Shit! Someone give him the Heimlich!" as a realised that there was simply too much muffiny goodness to fit down my throat at once, and that I could neither breath nor swallow nor get a grip on the offending lump because opening my mouth forced it further down my throat.
Eventually enough of it dropped that I could open my mouth, so I did, expelling a half chewed chunk of mush the size of a tennis ball onto the carpet on front of my new colleagues.
Length? About 4 weeks after that debacle.
(Fri 8th May 2009, 16:52, More)
First day at a new job
Over lunch, the boss boasts that she can eat a whole muffin in one bite. She proceeds to prove this, to much eyerolling from the jaded crowd.
"I bet I could do that." I whisper quietly.
"Go on then. Do it and you get the afternoon off, paid." she challenged.
So I did. With the biggest one in the pack. Much cheering ensued.
The cheering turned to cries of "Shit! Someone give him the Heimlich!" as a realised that there was simply too much muffiny goodness to fit down my throat at once, and that I could neither breath nor swallow nor get a grip on the offending lump because opening my mouth forced it further down my throat.
Eventually enough of it dropped that I could open my mouth, so I did, expelling a half chewed chunk of mush the size of a tennis ball onto the carpet on front of my new colleagues.
Length? About 4 weeks after that debacle.
(Fri 8th May 2009, 16:52, More)
» School Projects
Electronics
I'd like to start this message with the following announcement: bollocks to all DT teachers. You are all insane and cuntish in the extreme. Insanity is sometimes a good thing; being a harridan who drunkenly sqwawked and screamed at a bunch of 14 year olds because they didn't know what they were doing in the first lesson that year makes you the kind of insane that ends with you disappearing into the back of a big white van.
In my final GCSE year, my Electronics class was given a task to perform: create a simple product that could feasibly be sold in shops, and create an 80 page assessment of it (including all the stages of testing, design, and a fucking marketing plan).
This was to be worth 70% of our final marks, and take up the entire year. The teacher started bringing multiple newspapers to work with him, the lazy shit.
We then discovered that it was his final year, hence his laidback attitude to our success, and he simultaneously discovered that a roomful of GCSE students will, if left unattended in a room for 6 months, form cliques, piss about on the computers, and generally act like monkeys in a variety of comically sized trousers (while I'm here: fuck school uniforms).
We were all off the ground, sure, but most of us were content to prod at a piece of PCB and see what we could get through the tight internet filters. So he did what anyone who thought their balls were in a blender would do: he found the half dozen best projects so far (out of the class of 12 or so), and nurtured them at the expense of everyone else. After school sessions (oo-er), lunchtimes poring over schematics, special components brought in: nothing was too much for these little darlings.
As the deadline approached, the tension in our little classes escalated. Half the leftovers couldn't tell one end of a soldering iron from the other, and with everything else to study for, there was no time to learn it all. We slowly realised that we'd been done up the shitter, and the tension reached boiling point. Just-about-audible mutters of "wanker" followed him everywhere he went. One young reprobate pointed out the fact that he wasn't going to be coming back to the school for sixth form solely as a result of his experience in this class. His response?
"You wouldn't have got the grades anyway, you little shit."
One fight later, and he's being escorted off the premises by the police. That taught him.
I got an F in the end, as did the other leftovers, and was frankly amazed to have even done that well.
(Mon 17th Aug 2009, 1:36, More)
Electronics
I'd like to start this message with the following announcement: bollocks to all DT teachers. You are all insane and cuntish in the extreme. Insanity is sometimes a good thing; being a harridan who drunkenly sqwawked and screamed at a bunch of 14 year olds because they didn't know what they were doing in the first lesson that year makes you the kind of insane that ends with you disappearing into the back of a big white van.
In my final GCSE year, my Electronics class was given a task to perform: create a simple product that could feasibly be sold in shops, and create an 80 page assessment of it (including all the stages of testing, design, and a fucking marketing plan).
This was to be worth 70% of our final marks, and take up the entire year. The teacher started bringing multiple newspapers to work with him, the lazy shit.
We then discovered that it was his final year, hence his laidback attitude to our success, and he simultaneously discovered that a roomful of GCSE students will, if left unattended in a room for 6 months, form cliques, piss about on the computers, and generally act like monkeys in a variety of comically sized trousers (while I'm here: fuck school uniforms).
We were all off the ground, sure, but most of us were content to prod at a piece of PCB and see what we could get through the tight internet filters. So he did what anyone who thought their balls were in a blender would do: he found the half dozen best projects so far (out of the class of 12 or so), and nurtured them at the expense of everyone else. After school sessions (oo-er), lunchtimes poring over schematics, special components brought in: nothing was too much for these little darlings.
As the deadline approached, the tension in our little classes escalated. Half the leftovers couldn't tell one end of a soldering iron from the other, and with everything else to study for, there was no time to learn it all. We slowly realised that we'd been done up the shitter, and the tension reached boiling point. Just-about-audible mutters of "wanker" followed him everywhere he went. One young reprobate pointed out the fact that he wasn't going to be coming back to the school for sixth form solely as a result of his experience in this class. His response?
"You wouldn't have got the grades anyway, you little shit."
One fight later, and he's being escorted off the premises by the police. That taught him.
I got an F in the end, as did the other leftovers, and was frankly amazed to have even done that well.
(Mon 17th Aug 2009, 1:36, More)
» Bullies
There's nothing worse...
...than being bullied by the people you consider(ed) friends.
Double points for fighting back and sending one of them home in tears and a bloody shirt, only to have his mum turn up on the doorstep and beat the shit out of your mum in her own hallway while you look on, confused and terrified.
Triple points if she nicks the phone from the sideboard on the way out.
As a consumate victim of bullying of all kinds, I have a number of plans for my children to use to counter the tyrants of the future. Most of them involving punching him in the bollocks, it has to be said.
Length? The last 3 years of primary school, and still going on now.
(Thu 14th May 2009, 23:33, More)
There's nothing worse...
...than being bullied by the people you consider(ed) friends.
Double points for fighting back and sending one of them home in tears and a bloody shirt, only to have his mum turn up on the doorstep and beat the shit out of your mum in her own hallway while you look on, confused and terrified.
Triple points if she nicks the phone from the sideboard on the way out.
As a consumate victim of bullying of all kinds, I have a number of plans for my children to use to counter the tyrants of the future. Most of them involving punching him in the bollocks, it has to be said.
Length? The last 3 years of primary school, and still going on now.
(Thu 14th May 2009, 23:33, More)