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Life in the fast lane: B2C's Nick Sayer on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson . The data Del Boy . Posing on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson, Nick Sayer soaks up the winter sun outside his holiday home in Florida. It is one of several shots of motorbikes, supercars and lavish holidays he has posted online in recent years…to the delight of his friends. For while pensioners are targeted every day by cold callers, the man who sold their personal data is apparently relishing the spoils. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information. The 45-year-old father-of-two says he carries out his business from a ‘man cave’ in the garden of his home in Kent. He began his working life as a diver on oil rigs in Azerbaijan, before, he claims, he was set up in business by a Greek shipping billionaire. They ran a commercial diving company before he decided to make money for himself by selling personal data with a series of companies, most of which have been dissolved or liquidated. ‘For years I was called “oh, you’re just a Del Boy”,’ he said. ‘I work from home, I’ve got a little log cabin thing out in me garden, that’s where I kind of base me-self. ‘I don’t like being in the house, I just go out there. It’s a bit of a man cave really.’ While his garden office may be modest, Sayer’s other tastes are much more ostentatious. His Facebook page shows off images of nine sports cars as well as pictures of him skiing in Banff, Canada. Scroll down for video . The British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car which he pictures on a drive on his profile costs up to £50,000 and boasts a top speed of 180mph. The Harley-Davidson Road King motorbike he is seen on in one image costs £17,595 new. Sayer regularly holidays with his family at his villa in Kissimmee, Florida, which they rent out for £600 a week. The home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms, all ‘fitted with luxury furnishings’. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy and owns a five-bedroom holiday home in Florida (pictured) – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information . Luxury: Sayer's Flordia home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms . The fake cash fraudster . Also trading in people’s personal information for B2C is convicted fraudster Gary Doran, 36, who wanted the Mail’s undercover team to pay Sayer off the books. The Mancunian, who now lives in Marbella, was jailed for six months for fraud in 2004 for trying to use two fake £10 notes to buy vodka. A 23-year-old student at Manchester Metropolitan University at the time, he tried to buy drink with the fake money at the Queen of Hearts pub in Fallowfield. The barmaid rejected the notes and the police were called, later finding him with 15 other fake bank notes. After serving time in jail, he has since run several failing businesses with his father and brother from their family home in Manchester. Most recently, as sales director of B2C Data, he asked an undercover reporter from the Mail to buy data off the books as a ‘favour to a friend’. He wanted the money to be paid directly into Sayer’s personal account, as a way of avoiding tax. Sporting life: The 180mph British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car on the Sayer's Facebook page . Jet-setting boss who said he knew nothing . B2C owner Stephen Hogg insists his firm ‘do everything completely, totally and utterly by the book’. The jet-setting golfer was, however, completely oblivious to his staff offering to sell data tax free through their own accounts. He even had no idea Doran had previously served time for fraud. The 46-year-old lives with his wife Sarah, 43, and their children in a £400,000 five-bedroom house in Rushden, Northamptonshire. Last week, there were three cars on the driveway outside the large home in a secluded cul-de-sac. Hogg appears to have spent much of the past month playing golf at clubs across Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. He and his wife also go online to boast of their holidays to Portugal and Australia. ‘Holidays, bar, golf and no diet!, he wrote during one of his travels. The couple, who have two children, started B2C Data just three months after his previous data company Unique Prospects was dissolved. He said he has also shut another firm down in the past after ‘certain allegations’, before insisting ‘that wasn’t my company by the way’. When approached by the Mail about B2C’s activities, Hogg said: ‘We are a member of the ICO [Information Commissioner’s Office], and DMA [Direct Marketing Association]. We do everything correctly.’ When told his employees had offered to sell his company’s data off the books and that Doran is a convicted fraudster, he added: ‘You’ve just made me aware of two things that I need to go and talk to people about.’ He described B2C Data as ‘a legitimate business’ working within the law. Cold callers use a wide range of tricks to obtain people's personal data (picture posed by model) Will writing: Pensioners are often targeted by callers who offer will writing advice on the cheap. This is often a ploy to gain your trust and access as many personal details – including about your finances – as possible. The firms then try to sell high risk investments as ‘add-ons’. Charity surveys: A homeowner is called and asked to complete a survey for charity. They are told if they answer a certain number of questions, a pre-selected charity will be paid £10 or so – so many kind-hearted people naturally agree. However, all the answers are collated and sold on. ‘Validating’ your details: Marketing firms will call customers of a major brand and claim they need to ‘validate’ the details they hold. After asking the customer to confirm their name, address and phone number, however, many will go on to try to get you to complete a ‘lifestyle survey’. These questions are, in fact, sponsored by various other companies and details are sold on. Soft questions: Watch out for surveys starting with ‘easy’ questions. One firm admitted it starts surveys with questions anyone would answer – like do you have a television? Only later do the questions become more intrusive – about your earnings and the worth of your home. Computer updates: Scammers try to hack into PCs by pretending to be from Microsoft. Following their ‘updating’ instructions can allow them to take control of the computer remotely and capture personal data. No call lists: The telephone preference list, which should block cold callers, is a free service. Some firms will, however, try to charge you as much as £1.60 a month. Shares: With your financial details on file, some cold calling firms are able to see which companies you have shares in. As a result, scammers can pretend to be calling from the companies you have invested in and try to convince the homeowner to pass on more financial details. Prizes: Once they have your details, scammers are able to send you misleading letters saying you have won large cash prizes. There are often hidden costs in claiming this supposed prize, like making you call premium rate phone numbers.
|
Dataset: ccdv/cnn_dailymail/3.0.0/validation
| 8.1
| 103.693229
| 1,472
| 61.522965
| 0.524752
| 0.703096
| 0.974144
| 0.735696
| 0.000493
| 4.094777
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1,001
| 364
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Life in the fast lane: B2C's Nick Sayer on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson . The data Del Boy . Posing on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson, Nick Sayer soaks up the winter sun outside his holiday home in Florida. It is one of several shots of motorbikes, supercars and lavish holidays he has posted online in recent years…to the delight of his friends. For while pensioners are targeted every day by cold callers, the man who sold their personal data is apparently relishing the spoils. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information. The 45-year-old father-of-two says he carries out his business from a ‘man cave’ in the garden of his home in Kent. He began his working life as a diver on oil rigs in Azerbaijan, before, he claims, he was set up in business by a Greek shipping billionaire. They ran a commercial diving company before he decided to make money for himself by selling personal data with a series of companies, most of which have been dissolved or liquidated. ‘For years I was called “oh, you’re just a Del Boy”,’ he said. ‘I work from home, I’ve got a little log cabin thing out in me garden, that’s where I kind of base me-self. ‘I don’t like being in the house, I just go out there. It’s a bit of a man cave really.’ While his garden office may be modest, Sayer’s other tastes are much more ostentatious. His Facebook page shows off images of nine sports cars as well as pictures of him skiing in Banff, Canada. Scroll down for video . The British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car which he pictures on a drive on his profile costs up to £50,000 and boasts a top speed of 180mph. The Harley-Davidson Road King motorbike he is seen on in one image costs £17,595 new. Sayer regularly holidays with his family at his villa in Kissimmee, Florida, which they rent out for £600 a week. The home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms, all ‘fitted with luxury furnishings’. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy and owns a five-bedroom holiday home in Florida (pictured) – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information . Luxury: Sayer's Flordia home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms . The fake cash fraudster . Also trading in people’s personal information for B2C is convicted fraudster Gary Doran, 36, who wanted the Mail’s undercover team to pay Sayer off the books. The Mancunian, who now lives in Marbella, was jailed for six months for fraud in 2004 for trying to use two fake £10 notes to buy vodka. A 23-year-old student at Manchester Metropolitan University at the time, he tried to buy drink with the fake money at the Queen of Hearts pub in Fallowfield. The barmaid rejected the notes and the police were called, later finding him with 15 other fake bank notes. After serving time in jail, he has since run several failing businesses with his father and brother from their family home in Manchester. Most recently, as sales director of B2C Data, he asked an undercover reporter from the Mail to buy data off the books as a ‘favour to a friend’. He wanted the money to be paid directly into Sayer’s personal account, as a way of avoiding tax. Sporting life: The 180mph British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car on the Sayer's Facebook page . Jet-setting boss who said he knew nothing . B2C owner Stephen Hogg insists his firm ‘do everything completely, totally and utterly by the book’. The jet-setting golfer was, however, completely oblivious to his staff offering to sell data tax free through their own accounts. He even had no idea Doran had previously served time for fraud. The 46-year-old lives with his wife Sarah, 43, and their children in a £400,000 five-bedroom house in Rushden, Northamptonshire. Last week, there were three cars on the driveway outside the large home in a secluded cul-de-sac. Hogg appears to have spent much of the past month playing golf at clubs across Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. He and his wife also go online to boast of their holidays to Portugal and Australia. ‘Holidays, bar, golf and no diet!, he wrote during one of his travels. The couple, who have two children, started B2C Data just three months after his previous data company Unique Prospects was dissolved. He said he has also shut another firm down in the past after ‘certain allegations’, before insisting ‘that wasn’t my company by the way’. When approached by the Mail about B2C’s activities, Hogg said: ‘We are a member of the ICO [Information Commissioner’s Office], and DMA [Direct Marketing Association]. We do everything correctly.’ When told his employees had offered to sell his company’s data off the books and that Doran is a convicted fraudster, he added: ‘You’ve just made me aware of two things that I need to go and talk to people about.’ He described B2C Data as ‘a legitimate business’ working within the law. Cold callers use a wide range of tricks to obtain people's personal data (picture posed by model) Will writing: Pensioners are often targeted by callers who offer will writing advice on the cheap. This is often a ploy to gain your trust and access as many personal details – including about your finances – as possible. The firms then try to sell high risk investments as ‘add-ons’. Charity surveys: A homeowner is called and asked to complete a survey for charity. They are told if they answer a certain number of questions, a pre-selected charity will be paid £10 or so – so many kind-hearted people naturally agree. However, all the answers are collated and sold on. ‘Validating’ your details: Marketing firms will call customers of a major brand and claim they need to ‘validate’ the details they hold. After asking the customer to confirm their name, address and phone number, however, many will go on to try to get you to complete a ‘lifestyle survey’. These questions are, in fact, sponsored by various other companies and details are sold on. Soft questions: Watch out for surveys starting with ‘easy’ questions. One firm admitted it starts surveys with questions anyone would answer – like do you have a television? Only later do the questions become more intrusive – about your earnings and the worth of your home. Computer updates: Scammers try to hack into PCs by pretending to be from Microsoft. Following their ‘updating’ instructions can allow them to take control of the computer remotely and capture personal data. No call lists: The telephone preference list, which should block cold callers, is a free service. Some firms will, however, try to charge you as much as £1.60 a month. Shares: With your financial details on file, some cold calling firms are able to see which companies you have shares in. As a result, scammers can pretend to be calling from the companies you have invested in and try to convince the homeowner to pass on more financial details. Prizes: Once they have your details, scammers are able to send you misleading letters saying you have won large cash prizes. There are often hidden costs in claiming this supposed prize, like making you call premium rate phone numbers.
|
Dataset: ccdv/cnn_dailymail/3.0.0/validation
| 8.1
| 103.693229
| 1,472
| 61.522965
| 0.524752
| 0.703096
| 0.974144
| 0.735696
| 0.000493
| 4.094777
| -0.453136
| null | -0.486524
| -0.305516
| 0.071616
| null | 0.48762
| 0.43018
|
1,002
| 364
|
Life in the fast lane: B2C's Nick Sayer on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson . The data Del Boy . Posing on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson, Nick Sayer soaks up the winter sun outside his holiday home in Florida. It is one of several shots of motorbikes, supercars and lavish holidays he has posted online in recent years…to the delight of his friends. For while pensioners are targeted every day by cold callers, the man who sold their personal data is apparently relishing the spoils. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information. The 45-year-old father-of-two says he carries out his business from a ‘man cave’ in the garden of his home in Kent. He began his working life as a diver on oil rigs in Azerbaijan, before, he claims, he was set up in business by a Greek shipping billionaire. They ran a commercial diving company before he decided to make money for himself by selling personal data with a series of companies, most of which have been dissolved or liquidated. ‘For years I was called “oh, you’re just a Del Boy”,’ he said. ‘I work from home, I’ve got a little log cabin thing out in me garden, that’s where I kind of base me-self. ‘I don’t like being in the house, I just go out there. It’s a bit of a man cave really.’ While his garden office may be modest, Sayer’s other tastes are much more ostentatious. His Facebook page shows off images of nine sports cars as well as pictures of him skiing in Banff, Canada. Scroll down for video . The British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car which he pictures on a drive on his profile costs up to £50,000 and boasts a top speed of 180mph. The Harley-Davidson Road King motorbike he is seen on in one image costs £17,595 new. Sayer regularly holidays with his family at his villa in Kissimmee, Florida, which they rent out for £600 a week. The home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms, all ‘fitted with luxury furnishings’. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy and owns a five-bedroom holiday home in Florida (pictured) – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information . Luxury: Sayer's Flordia home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms . The fake cash fraudster . Also trading in people’s personal information for B2C is convicted fraudster Gary Doran, 36, who wanted the Mail’s undercover team to pay Sayer off the books. The Mancunian, who now lives in Marbella, was jailed for six months for fraud in 2004 for trying to use two fake £10 notes to buy vodka. A 23-year-old student at Manchester Metropolitan University at the time, he tried to buy drink with the fake money at the Queen of Hearts pub in Fallowfield. The barmaid rejected the notes and the police were called, later finding him with 15 other fake bank notes. After serving time in jail, he has since run several failing businesses with his father and brother from their family home in Manchester. Most recently, as sales director of B2C Data, he asked an undercover reporter from the Mail to buy data off the books as a ‘favour to a friend’. He wanted the money to be paid directly into Sayer’s personal account, as a way of avoiding tax. Sporting life: The 180mph British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car on the Sayer's Facebook page . Jet-setting boss who said he knew nothing . B2C owner Stephen Hogg insists his firm ‘do everything completely, totally and utterly by the book’. The jet-setting golfer was, however, completely oblivious to his staff offering to sell data tax free through their own accounts. He even had no idea Doran had previously served time for fraud. The 46-year-old lives with his wife Sarah, 43, and their children in a £400,000 five-bedroom house in Rushden, Northamptonshire. Last week, there were three cars on the driveway outside the large home in a secluded cul-de-sac. Hogg appears to have spent much of the past month playing golf at clubs across Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. He and his wife also go online to boast of their holidays to Portugal and Australia. ‘Holidays, bar, golf and no diet!, he wrote during one of his travels. The couple, who have two children, started B2C Data just three months after his previous data company Unique Prospects was dissolved. He said he has also shut another firm down in the past after ‘certain allegations’, before insisting ‘that wasn’t my company by the way’. When approached by the Mail about B2C’s activities, Hogg said: ‘We are a member of the ICO [Information Commissioner’s Office], and DMA [Direct Marketing Association]. We do everything correctly.’ When told his employees had offered to sell his company’s data off the books and that Doran is a convicted fraudster, he added: ‘You’ve just made me aware of two things that I need to go and talk to people about.’ He described B2C Data as ‘a legitimate business’ working within the law. Cold callers use a wide range of tricks to obtain people's personal data (picture posed by model) Will writing: Pensioners are often targeted by callers who offer will writing advice on the cheap. This is often a ploy to gain your trust and access as many personal details – including about your finances – as possible. The firms then try to sell high risk investments as ‘add-ons’. Charity surveys: A homeowner is called and asked to complete a survey for charity. They are told if they answer a certain number of questions, a pre-selected charity will be paid £10 or so – so many kind-hearted people naturally agree. However, all the answers are collated and sold on. ‘Validating’ your details: Marketing firms will call customers of a major brand and claim they need to ‘validate’ the details they hold. After asking the customer to confirm their name, address and phone number, however, many will go on to try to get you to complete a ‘lifestyle survey’. These questions are, in fact, sponsored by various other companies and details are sold on. Soft questions: Watch out for surveys starting with ‘easy’ questions. One firm admitted it starts surveys with questions anyone would answer – like do you have a television? Only later do the questions become more intrusive – about your earnings and the worth of your home. Computer updates: Scammers try to hack into PCs by pretending to be from Microsoft. Following their ‘updating’ instructions can allow them to take control of the computer remotely and capture personal data. No call lists: The telephone preference list, which should block cold callers, is a free service. Some firms will, however, try to charge you as much as £1.60 a month. Shares: With your financial details on file, some cold calling firms are able to see which companies you have shares in. As a result, scammers can pretend to be calling from the companies you have invested in and try to convince the homeowner to pass on more financial details. Prizes: Once they have your details, scammers are able to send you misleading letters saying you have won large cash prizes. There are often hidden costs in claiming this supposed prize, like making you call premium rate phone numbers.
|
Dataset: ccdv/cnn_dailymail/3.0.0/validation
| 8.1
| 103.693229
| 1,472
| 61.522965
| 0.524752
| 0.703096
| 0.974144
| 0.735696
| 0.000493
| 4.094777
| -0.280882
| null | -0.181627
| -0.471578
| 0.243871
| null | 0.792517
| 0.264118
|
1,003
| 364
|
Life in the fast lane: B2C's Nick Sayer on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson . The data Del Boy . Posing on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson, Nick Sayer soaks up the winter sun outside his holiday home in Florida. It is one of several shots of motorbikes, supercars and lavish holidays he has posted online in recent years…to the delight of his friends. For while pensioners are targeted every day by cold callers, the man who sold their personal data is apparently relishing the spoils. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information. The 45-year-old father-of-two says he carries out his business from a ‘man cave’ in the garden of his home in Kent. He began his working life as a diver on oil rigs in Azerbaijan, before, he claims, he was set up in business by a Greek shipping billionaire. They ran a commercial diving company before he decided to make money for himself by selling personal data with a series of companies, most of which have been dissolved or liquidated. ‘For years I was called “oh, you’re just a Del Boy”,’ he said. ‘I work from home, I’ve got a little log cabin thing out in me garden, that’s where I kind of base me-self. ‘I don’t like being in the house, I just go out there. It’s a bit of a man cave really.’ While his garden office may be modest, Sayer’s other tastes are much more ostentatious. His Facebook page shows off images of nine sports cars as well as pictures of him skiing in Banff, Canada. Scroll down for video . The British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car which he pictures on a drive on his profile costs up to £50,000 and boasts a top speed of 180mph. The Harley-Davidson Road King motorbike he is seen on in one image costs £17,595 new. Sayer regularly holidays with his family at his villa in Kissimmee, Florida, which they rent out for £600 a week. The home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms, all ‘fitted with luxury furnishings’. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy and owns a five-bedroom holiday home in Florida (pictured) – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information . Luxury: Sayer's Flordia home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms . The fake cash fraudster . Also trading in people’s personal information for B2C is convicted fraudster Gary Doran, 36, who wanted the Mail’s undercover team to pay Sayer off the books. The Mancunian, who now lives in Marbella, was jailed for six months for fraud in 2004 for trying to use two fake £10 notes to buy vodka. A 23-year-old student at Manchester Metropolitan University at the time, he tried to buy drink with the fake money at the Queen of Hearts pub in Fallowfield. The barmaid rejected the notes and the police were called, later finding him with 15 other fake bank notes. After serving time in jail, he has since run several failing businesses with his father and brother from their family home in Manchester. Most recently, as sales director of B2C Data, he asked an undercover reporter from the Mail to buy data off the books as a ‘favour to a friend’. He wanted the money to be paid directly into Sayer’s personal account, as a way of avoiding tax. Sporting life: The 180mph British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car on the Sayer's Facebook page . Jet-setting boss who said he knew nothing . B2C owner Stephen Hogg insists his firm ‘do everything completely, totally and utterly by the book’. The jet-setting golfer was, however, completely oblivious to his staff offering to sell data tax free through their own accounts. He even had no idea Doran had previously served time for fraud. The 46-year-old lives with his wife Sarah, 43, and their children in a £400,000 five-bedroom house in Rushden, Northamptonshire. Last week, there were three cars on the driveway outside the large home in a secluded cul-de-sac. Hogg appears to have spent much of the past month playing golf at clubs across Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. He and his wife also go online to boast of their holidays to Portugal and Australia. ‘Holidays, bar, golf and no diet!, he wrote during one of his travels. The couple, who have two children, started B2C Data just three months after his previous data company Unique Prospects was dissolved. He said he has also shut another firm down in the past after ‘certain allegations’, before insisting ‘that wasn’t my company by the way’. When approached by the Mail about B2C’s activities, Hogg said: ‘We are a member of the ICO [Information Commissioner’s Office], and DMA [Direct Marketing Association]. We do everything correctly.’ When told his employees had offered to sell his company’s data off the books and that Doran is a convicted fraudster, he added: ‘You’ve just made me aware of two things that I need to go and talk to people about.’ He described B2C Data as ‘a legitimate business’ working within the law. Cold callers use a wide range of tricks to obtain people's personal data (picture posed by model) Will writing: Pensioners are often targeted by callers who offer will writing advice on the cheap. This is often a ploy to gain your trust and access as many personal details – including about your finances – as possible. The firms then try to sell high risk investments as ‘add-ons’. Charity surveys: A homeowner is called and asked to complete a survey for charity. They are told if they answer a certain number of questions, a pre-selected charity will be paid £10 or so – so many kind-hearted people naturally agree. However, all the answers are collated and sold on. ‘Validating’ your details: Marketing firms will call customers of a major brand and claim they need to ‘validate’ the details they hold. After asking the customer to confirm their name, address and phone number, however, many will go on to try to get you to complete a ‘lifestyle survey’. These questions are, in fact, sponsored by various other companies and details are sold on. Soft questions: Watch out for surveys starting with ‘easy’ questions. One firm admitted it starts surveys with questions anyone would answer – like do you have a television? Only later do the questions become more intrusive – about your earnings and the worth of your home. Computer updates: Scammers try to hack into PCs by pretending to be from Microsoft. Following their ‘updating’ instructions can allow them to take control of the computer remotely and capture personal data. No call lists: The telephone preference list, which should block cold callers, is a free service. Some firms will, however, try to charge you as much as £1.60 a month. Shares: With your financial details on file, some cold calling firms are able to see which companies you have shares in. As a result, scammers can pretend to be calling from the companies you have invested in and try to convince the homeowner to pass on more financial details. Prizes: Once they have your details, scammers are able to send you misleading letters saying you have won large cash prizes. There are often hidden costs in claiming this supposed prize, like making you call premium rate phone numbers.
|
Dataset: ccdv/cnn_dailymail/3.0.0/validation
| 8.1
| 103.693229
| 1,472
| 61.522965
| 0.524752
| 0.703096
| 0.974144
| 0.735696
| 0.000493
| 4.094777
| null | -0.607415
| -0.330248
| -0.360759
| null | 0.095681
| 0.643896
| 0.374937
|
1,004
| 364
|
Life in the fast lane: B2C's Nick Sayer on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson . The data Del Boy . Posing on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson, Nick Sayer soaks up the winter sun outside his holiday home in Florida. It is one of several shots of motorbikes, supercars and lavish holidays he has posted online in recent years…to the delight of his friends. For while pensioners are targeted every day by cold callers, the man who sold their personal data is apparently relishing the spoils. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information. The 45-year-old father-of-two says he carries out his business from a ‘man cave’ in the garden of his home in Kent. He began his working life as a diver on oil rigs in Azerbaijan, before, he claims, he was set up in business by a Greek shipping billionaire. They ran a commercial diving company before he decided to make money for himself by selling personal data with a series of companies, most of which have been dissolved or liquidated. ‘For years I was called “oh, you’re just a Del Boy”,’ he said. ‘I work from home, I’ve got a little log cabin thing out in me garden, that’s where I kind of base me-self. ‘I don’t like being in the house, I just go out there. It’s a bit of a man cave really.’ While his garden office may be modest, Sayer’s other tastes are much more ostentatious. His Facebook page shows off images of nine sports cars as well as pictures of him skiing in Banff, Canada. Scroll down for video . The British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car which he pictures on a drive on his profile costs up to £50,000 and boasts a top speed of 180mph. The Harley-Davidson Road King motorbike he is seen on in one image costs £17,595 new. Sayer regularly holidays with his family at his villa in Kissimmee, Florida, which they rent out for £600 a week. The home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms, all ‘fitted with luxury furnishings’. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy and owns a five-bedroom holiday home in Florida (pictured) – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information . Luxury: Sayer's Flordia home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms . The fake cash fraudster . Also trading in people’s personal information for B2C is convicted fraudster Gary Doran, 36, who wanted the Mail’s undercover team to pay Sayer off the books. The Mancunian, who now lives in Marbella, was jailed for six months for fraud in 2004 for trying to use two fake £10 notes to buy vodka. A 23-year-old student at Manchester Metropolitan University at the time, he tried to buy drink with the fake money at the Queen of Hearts pub in Fallowfield. The barmaid rejected the notes and the police were called, later finding him with 15 other fake bank notes. After serving time in jail, he has since run several failing businesses with his father and brother from their family home in Manchester. Most recently, as sales director of B2C Data, he asked an undercover reporter from the Mail to buy data off the books as a ‘favour to a friend’. He wanted the money to be paid directly into Sayer’s personal account, as a way of avoiding tax. Sporting life: The 180mph British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car on the Sayer's Facebook page . Jet-setting boss who said he knew nothing . B2C owner Stephen Hogg insists his firm ‘do everything completely, totally and utterly by the book’. The jet-setting golfer was, however, completely oblivious to his staff offering to sell data tax free through their own accounts. He even had no idea Doran had previously served time for fraud. The 46-year-old lives with his wife Sarah, 43, and their children in a £400,000 five-bedroom house in Rushden, Northamptonshire. Last week, there were three cars on the driveway outside the large home in a secluded cul-de-sac. Hogg appears to have spent much of the past month playing golf at clubs across Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. He and his wife also go online to boast of their holidays to Portugal and Australia. ‘Holidays, bar, golf and no diet!, he wrote during one of his travels. The couple, who have two children, started B2C Data just three months after his previous data company Unique Prospects was dissolved. He said he has also shut another firm down in the past after ‘certain allegations’, before insisting ‘that wasn’t my company by the way’. When approached by the Mail about B2C’s activities, Hogg said: ‘We are a member of the ICO [Information Commissioner’s Office], and DMA [Direct Marketing Association]. We do everything correctly.’ When told his employees had offered to sell his company’s data off the books and that Doran is a convicted fraudster, he added: ‘You’ve just made me aware of two things that I need to go and talk to people about.’ He described B2C Data as ‘a legitimate business’ working within the law. Cold callers use a wide range of tricks to obtain people's personal data (picture posed by model) Will writing: Pensioners are often targeted by callers who offer will writing advice on the cheap. This is often a ploy to gain your trust and access as many personal details – including about your finances – as possible. The firms then try to sell high risk investments as ‘add-ons’. Charity surveys: A homeowner is called and asked to complete a survey for charity. They are told if they answer a certain number of questions, a pre-selected charity will be paid £10 or so – so many kind-hearted people naturally agree. However, all the answers are collated and sold on. ‘Validating’ your details: Marketing firms will call customers of a major brand and claim they need to ‘validate’ the details they hold. After asking the customer to confirm their name, address and phone number, however, many will go on to try to get you to complete a ‘lifestyle survey’. These questions are, in fact, sponsored by various other companies and details are sold on. Soft questions: Watch out for surveys starting with ‘easy’ questions. One firm admitted it starts surveys with questions anyone would answer – like do you have a television? Only later do the questions become more intrusive – about your earnings and the worth of your home. Computer updates: Scammers try to hack into PCs by pretending to be from Microsoft. Following their ‘updating’ instructions can allow them to take control of the computer remotely and capture personal data. No call lists: The telephone preference list, which should block cold callers, is a free service. Some firms will, however, try to charge you as much as £1.60 a month. Shares: With your financial details on file, some cold calling firms are able to see which companies you have shares in. As a result, scammers can pretend to be calling from the companies you have invested in and try to convince the homeowner to pass on more financial details. Prizes: Once they have your details, scammers are able to send you misleading letters saying you have won large cash prizes. There are often hidden costs in claiming this supposed prize, like making you call premium rate phone numbers.
|
Dataset: ccdv/cnn_dailymail/3.0.0/validation
| 8.1
| 103.693229
| 1,472
| 61.522965
| 0.524752
| 0.703096
| 0.974144
| 0.735696
| 0.000493
| 4.094777
| -0.37434
| -0.179513
| -0.61091
| null | 0.150413
| 0.523583
| 0.363234
| null |
1,005
| 364
|
Life in the fast lane: B2C's Nick Sayer on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson . The data Del Boy . Posing on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson, Nick Sayer soaks up the winter sun outside his holiday home in Florida. It is one of several shots of motorbikes, supercars and lavish holidays he has posted online in recent years…to the delight of his friends. For while pensioners are targeted every day by cold callers, the man who sold their personal data is apparently relishing the spoils. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information. The 45-year-old father-of-two says he carries out his business from a ‘man cave’ in the garden of his home in Kent. He began his working life as a diver on oil rigs in Azerbaijan, before, he claims, he was set up in business by a Greek shipping billionaire. They ran a commercial diving company before he decided to make money for himself by selling personal data with a series of companies, most of which have been dissolved or liquidated. ‘For years I was called “oh, you’re just a Del Boy”,’ he said. ‘I work from home, I’ve got a little log cabin thing out in me garden, that’s where I kind of base me-self. ‘I don’t like being in the house, I just go out there. It’s a bit of a man cave really.’ While his garden office may be modest, Sayer’s other tastes are much more ostentatious. His Facebook page shows off images of nine sports cars as well as pictures of him skiing in Banff, Canada. Scroll down for video . The British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car which he pictures on a drive on his profile costs up to £50,000 and boasts a top speed of 180mph. The Harley-Davidson Road King motorbike he is seen on in one image costs £17,595 new. Sayer regularly holidays with his family at his villa in Kissimmee, Florida, which they rent out for £600 a week. The home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms, all ‘fitted with luxury furnishings’. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy and owns a five-bedroom holiday home in Florida (pictured) – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information . Luxury: Sayer's Flordia home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms . The fake cash fraudster . Also trading in people’s personal information for B2C is convicted fraudster Gary Doran, 36, who wanted the Mail’s undercover team to pay Sayer off the books. The Mancunian, who now lives in Marbella, was jailed for six months for fraud in 2004 for trying to use two fake £10 notes to buy vodka. A 23-year-old student at Manchester Metropolitan University at the time, he tried to buy drink with the fake money at the Queen of Hearts pub in Fallowfield. The barmaid rejected the notes and the police were called, later finding him with 15 other fake bank notes. After serving time in jail, he has since run several failing businesses with his father and brother from their family home in Manchester. Most recently, as sales director of B2C Data, he asked an undercover reporter from the Mail to buy data off the books as a ‘favour to a friend’. He wanted the money to be paid directly into Sayer’s personal account, as a way of avoiding tax. Sporting life: The 180mph British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car on the Sayer's Facebook page . Jet-setting boss who said he knew nothing . B2C owner Stephen Hogg insists his firm ‘do everything completely, totally and utterly by the book’. The jet-setting golfer was, however, completely oblivious to his staff offering to sell data tax free through their own accounts. He even had no idea Doran had previously served time for fraud. The 46-year-old lives with his wife Sarah, 43, and their children in a £400,000 five-bedroom house in Rushden, Northamptonshire. Last week, there were three cars on the driveway outside the large home in a secluded cul-de-sac. Hogg appears to have spent much of the past month playing golf at clubs across Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. He and his wife also go online to boast of their holidays to Portugal and Australia. ‘Holidays, bar, golf and no diet!, he wrote during one of his travels. The couple, who have two children, started B2C Data just three months after his previous data company Unique Prospects was dissolved. He said he has also shut another firm down in the past after ‘certain allegations’, before insisting ‘that wasn’t my company by the way’. When approached by the Mail about B2C’s activities, Hogg said: ‘We are a member of the ICO [Information Commissioner’s Office], and DMA [Direct Marketing Association]. We do everything correctly.’ When told his employees had offered to sell his company’s data off the books and that Doran is a convicted fraudster, he added: ‘You’ve just made me aware of two things that I need to go and talk to people about.’ He described B2C Data as ‘a legitimate business’ working within the law. Cold callers use a wide range of tricks to obtain people's personal data (picture posed by model) Will writing: Pensioners are often targeted by callers who offer will writing advice on the cheap. This is often a ploy to gain your trust and access as many personal details – including about your finances – as possible. The firms then try to sell high risk investments as ‘add-ons’. Charity surveys: A homeowner is called and asked to complete a survey for charity. They are told if they answer a certain number of questions, a pre-selected charity will be paid £10 or so – so many kind-hearted people naturally agree. However, all the answers are collated and sold on. ‘Validating’ your details: Marketing firms will call customers of a major brand and claim they need to ‘validate’ the details they hold. After asking the customer to confirm their name, address and phone number, however, many will go on to try to get you to complete a ‘lifestyle survey’. These questions are, in fact, sponsored by various other companies and details are sold on. Soft questions: Watch out for surveys starting with ‘easy’ questions. One firm admitted it starts surveys with questions anyone would answer – like do you have a television? Only later do the questions become more intrusive – about your earnings and the worth of your home. Computer updates: Scammers try to hack into PCs by pretending to be from Microsoft. Following their ‘updating’ instructions can allow them to take control of the computer remotely and capture personal data. No call lists: The telephone preference list, which should block cold callers, is a free service. Some firms will, however, try to charge you as much as £1.60 a month. Shares: With your financial details on file, some cold calling firms are able to see which companies you have shares in. As a result, scammers can pretend to be calling from the companies you have invested in and try to convince the homeowner to pass on more financial details. Prizes: Once they have your details, scammers are able to send you misleading letters saying you have won large cash prizes. There are often hidden costs in claiming this supposed prize, like making you call premium rate phone numbers.
|
Dataset: ccdv/cnn_dailymail/3.0.0/validation
| 8.1
| 103.693229
| 1,472
| 61.522965
| 0.524752
| 0.703096
| 0.974144
| 0.735696
| 0.000493
| 4.094777
| -0.103034
| null | -0.666934
| 0.178605
| 0.421719
| null | 0.30721
| 0.914301
|
1,006
| 364
|
Life in the fast lane: B2C's Nick Sayer on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson . The data Del Boy . Posing on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson, Nick Sayer soaks up the winter sun outside his holiday home in Florida. It is one of several shots of motorbikes, supercars and lavish holidays he has posted online in recent years…to the delight of his friends. For while pensioners are targeted every day by cold callers, the man who sold their personal data is apparently relishing the spoils. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information. The 45-year-old father-of-two says he carries out his business from a ‘man cave’ in the garden of his home in Kent. He began his working life as a diver on oil rigs in Azerbaijan, before, he claims, he was set up in business by a Greek shipping billionaire. They ran a commercial diving company before he decided to make money for himself by selling personal data with a series of companies, most of which have been dissolved or liquidated. ‘For years I was called “oh, you’re just a Del Boy”,’ he said. ‘I work from home, I’ve got a little log cabin thing out in me garden, that’s where I kind of base me-self. ‘I don’t like being in the house, I just go out there. It’s a bit of a man cave really.’ While his garden office may be modest, Sayer’s other tastes are much more ostentatious. His Facebook page shows off images of nine sports cars as well as pictures of him skiing in Banff, Canada. Scroll down for video . The British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car which he pictures on a drive on his profile costs up to £50,000 and boasts a top speed of 180mph. The Harley-Davidson Road King motorbike he is seen on in one image costs £17,595 new. Sayer regularly holidays with his family at his villa in Kissimmee, Florida, which they rent out for £600 a week. The home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms, all ‘fitted with luxury furnishings’. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy and owns a five-bedroom holiday home in Florida (pictured) – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information . Luxury: Sayer's Flordia home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms . The fake cash fraudster . Also trading in people’s personal information for B2C is convicted fraudster Gary Doran, 36, who wanted the Mail’s undercover team to pay Sayer off the books. The Mancunian, who now lives in Marbella, was jailed for six months for fraud in 2004 for trying to use two fake £10 notes to buy vodka. A 23-year-old student at Manchester Metropolitan University at the time, he tried to buy drink with the fake money at the Queen of Hearts pub in Fallowfield. The barmaid rejected the notes and the police were called, later finding him with 15 other fake bank notes. After serving time in jail, he has since run several failing businesses with his father and brother from their family home in Manchester. Most recently, as sales director of B2C Data, he asked an undercover reporter from the Mail to buy data off the books as a ‘favour to a friend’. He wanted the money to be paid directly into Sayer’s personal account, as a way of avoiding tax. Sporting life: The 180mph British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car on the Sayer's Facebook page . Jet-setting boss who said he knew nothing . B2C owner Stephen Hogg insists his firm ‘do everything completely, totally and utterly by the book’. The jet-setting golfer was, however, completely oblivious to his staff offering to sell data tax free through their own accounts. He even had no idea Doran had previously served time for fraud. The 46-year-old lives with his wife Sarah, 43, and their children in a £400,000 five-bedroom house in Rushden, Northamptonshire. Last week, there were three cars on the driveway outside the large home in a secluded cul-de-sac. Hogg appears to have spent much of the past month playing golf at clubs across Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. He and his wife also go online to boast of their holidays to Portugal and Australia. ‘Holidays, bar, golf and no diet!, he wrote during one of his travels. The couple, who have two children, started B2C Data just three months after his previous data company Unique Prospects was dissolved. He said he has also shut another firm down in the past after ‘certain allegations’, before insisting ‘that wasn’t my company by the way’. When approached by the Mail about B2C’s activities, Hogg said: ‘We are a member of the ICO [Information Commissioner’s Office], and DMA [Direct Marketing Association]. We do everything correctly.’ When told his employees had offered to sell his company’s data off the books and that Doran is a convicted fraudster, he added: ‘You’ve just made me aware of two things that I need to go and talk to people about.’ He described B2C Data as ‘a legitimate business’ working within the law. Cold callers use a wide range of tricks to obtain people's personal data (picture posed by model) Will writing: Pensioners are often targeted by callers who offer will writing advice on the cheap. This is often a ploy to gain your trust and access as many personal details – including about your finances – as possible. The firms then try to sell high risk investments as ‘add-ons’. Charity surveys: A homeowner is called and asked to complete a survey for charity. They are told if they answer a certain number of questions, a pre-selected charity will be paid £10 or so – so many kind-hearted people naturally agree. However, all the answers are collated and sold on. ‘Validating’ your details: Marketing firms will call customers of a major brand and claim they need to ‘validate’ the details they hold. After asking the customer to confirm their name, address and phone number, however, many will go on to try to get you to complete a ‘lifestyle survey’. These questions are, in fact, sponsored by various other companies and details are sold on. Soft questions: Watch out for surveys starting with ‘easy’ questions. One firm admitted it starts surveys with questions anyone would answer – like do you have a television? Only later do the questions become more intrusive – about your earnings and the worth of your home. Computer updates: Scammers try to hack into PCs by pretending to be from Microsoft. Following their ‘updating’ instructions can allow them to take control of the computer remotely and capture personal data. No call lists: The telephone preference list, which should block cold callers, is a free service. Some firms will, however, try to charge you as much as £1.60 a month. Shares: With your financial details on file, some cold calling firms are able to see which companies you have shares in. As a result, scammers can pretend to be calling from the companies you have invested in and try to convince the homeowner to pass on more financial details. Prizes: Once they have your details, scammers are able to send you misleading letters saying you have won large cash prizes. There are often hidden costs in claiming this supposed prize, like making you call premium rate phone numbers.
|
Dataset: ccdv/cnn_dailymail/3.0.0/validation
| 8.1
| 103.693229
| 1,472
| 61.522965
| 0.524752
| 0.703096
| 0.974144
| 0.735696
| 0.000493
| 4.094777
| 0.237641
| -0.527768
| -0.589957
| null | 0.762393
| 0.175328
| 0.384187
| null |
1,007
| 364
|
Life in the fast lane: B2C's Nick Sayer on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson . The data Del Boy . Posing on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson, Nick Sayer soaks up the winter sun outside his holiday home in Florida. It is one of several shots of motorbikes, supercars and lavish holidays he has posted online in recent years…to the delight of his friends. For while pensioners are targeted every day by cold callers, the man who sold their personal data is apparently relishing the spoils. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information. The 45-year-old father-of-two says he carries out his business from a ‘man cave’ in the garden of his home in Kent. He began his working life as a diver on oil rigs in Azerbaijan, before, he claims, he was set up in business by a Greek shipping billionaire. They ran a commercial diving company before he decided to make money for himself by selling personal data with a series of companies, most of which have been dissolved or liquidated. ‘For years I was called “oh, you’re just a Del Boy”,’ he said. ‘I work from home, I’ve got a little log cabin thing out in me garden, that’s where I kind of base me-self. ‘I don’t like being in the house, I just go out there. It’s a bit of a man cave really.’ While his garden office may be modest, Sayer’s other tastes are much more ostentatious. His Facebook page shows off images of nine sports cars as well as pictures of him skiing in Banff, Canada. Scroll down for video . The British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car which he pictures on a drive on his profile costs up to £50,000 and boasts a top speed of 180mph. The Harley-Davidson Road King motorbike he is seen on in one image costs £17,595 new. Sayer regularly holidays with his family at his villa in Kissimmee, Florida, which they rent out for £600 a week. The home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms, all ‘fitted with luxury furnishings’. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy and owns a five-bedroom holiday home in Florida (pictured) – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information . Luxury: Sayer's Flordia home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms . The fake cash fraudster . Also trading in people’s personal information for B2C is convicted fraudster Gary Doran, 36, who wanted the Mail’s undercover team to pay Sayer off the books. The Mancunian, who now lives in Marbella, was jailed for six months for fraud in 2004 for trying to use two fake £10 notes to buy vodka. A 23-year-old student at Manchester Metropolitan University at the time, he tried to buy drink with the fake money at the Queen of Hearts pub in Fallowfield. The barmaid rejected the notes and the police were called, later finding him with 15 other fake bank notes. After serving time in jail, he has since run several failing businesses with his father and brother from their family home in Manchester. Most recently, as sales director of B2C Data, he asked an undercover reporter from the Mail to buy data off the books as a ‘favour to a friend’. He wanted the money to be paid directly into Sayer’s personal account, as a way of avoiding tax. Sporting life: The 180mph British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car on the Sayer's Facebook page . Jet-setting boss who said he knew nothing . B2C owner Stephen Hogg insists his firm ‘do everything completely, totally and utterly by the book’. The jet-setting golfer was, however, completely oblivious to his staff offering to sell data tax free through their own accounts. He even had no idea Doran had previously served time for fraud. The 46-year-old lives with his wife Sarah, 43, and their children in a £400,000 five-bedroom house in Rushden, Northamptonshire. Last week, there were three cars on the driveway outside the large home in a secluded cul-de-sac. Hogg appears to have spent much of the past month playing golf at clubs across Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. He and his wife also go online to boast of their holidays to Portugal and Australia. ‘Holidays, bar, golf and no diet!, he wrote during one of his travels. The couple, who have two children, started B2C Data just three months after his previous data company Unique Prospects was dissolved. He said he has also shut another firm down in the past after ‘certain allegations’, before insisting ‘that wasn’t my company by the way’. When approached by the Mail about B2C’s activities, Hogg said: ‘We are a member of the ICO [Information Commissioner’s Office], and DMA [Direct Marketing Association]. We do everything correctly.’ When told his employees had offered to sell his company’s data off the books and that Doran is a convicted fraudster, he added: ‘You’ve just made me aware of two things that I need to go and talk to people about.’ He described B2C Data as ‘a legitimate business’ working within the law. Cold callers use a wide range of tricks to obtain people's personal data (picture posed by model) Will writing: Pensioners are often targeted by callers who offer will writing advice on the cheap. This is often a ploy to gain your trust and access as many personal details – including about your finances – as possible. The firms then try to sell high risk investments as ‘add-ons’. Charity surveys: A homeowner is called and asked to complete a survey for charity. They are told if they answer a certain number of questions, a pre-selected charity will be paid £10 or so – so many kind-hearted people naturally agree. However, all the answers are collated and sold on. ‘Validating’ your details: Marketing firms will call customers of a major brand and claim they need to ‘validate’ the details they hold. After asking the customer to confirm their name, address and phone number, however, many will go on to try to get you to complete a ‘lifestyle survey’. These questions are, in fact, sponsored by various other companies and details are sold on. Soft questions: Watch out for surveys starting with ‘easy’ questions. One firm admitted it starts surveys with questions anyone would answer – like do you have a television? Only later do the questions become more intrusive – about your earnings and the worth of your home. Computer updates: Scammers try to hack into PCs by pretending to be from Microsoft. Following their ‘updating’ instructions can allow them to take control of the computer remotely and capture personal data. No call lists: The telephone preference list, which should block cold callers, is a free service. Some firms will, however, try to charge you as much as £1.60 a month. Shares: With your financial details on file, some cold calling firms are able to see which companies you have shares in. As a result, scammers can pretend to be calling from the companies you have invested in and try to convince the homeowner to pass on more financial details. Prizes: Once they have your details, scammers are able to send you misleading letters saying you have won large cash prizes. There are often hidden costs in claiming this supposed prize, like making you call premium rate phone numbers.
|
Dataset: ccdv/cnn_dailymail/3.0.0/validation
| 8.1
| 103.693229
| 1,472
| 61.522965
| 0.524752
| 0.703096
| 0.974144
| 0.735696
| 0.000493
| 4.094777
| 0.3293
| null | -0.387726
| 0.157921
| 0.854052
| null | 0.586418
| 0.893617
|
1,008
| 364
|
Life in the fast lane: B2C's Nick Sayer on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson . The data Del Boy . Posing on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson, Nick Sayer soaks up the winter sun outside his holiday home in Florida. It is one of several shots of motorbikes, supercars and lavish holidays he has posted online in recent years…to the delight of his friends. For while pensioners are targeted every day by cold callers, the man who sold their personal data is apparently relishing the spoils. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information. The 45-year-old father-of-two says he carries out his business from a ‘man cave’ in the garden of his home in Kent. He began his working life as a diver on oil rigs in Azerbaijan, before, he claims, he was set up in business by a Greek shipping billionaire. They ran a commercial diving company before he decided to make money for himself by selling personal data with a series of companies, most of which have been dissolved or liquidated. ‘For years I was called “oh, you’re just a Del Boy”,’ he said. ‘I work from home, I’ve got a little log cabin thing out in me garden, that’s where I kind of base me-self. ‘I don’t like being in the house, I just go out there. It’s a bit of a man cave really.’ While his garden office may be modest, Sayer’s other tastes are much more ostentatious. His Facebook page shows off images of nine sports cars as well as pictures of him skiing in Banff, Canada. Scroll down for video . The British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car which he pictures on a drive on his profile costs up to £50,000 and boasts a top speed of 180mph. The Harley-Davidson Road King motorbike he is seen on in one image costs £17,595 new. Sayer regularly holidays with his family at his villa in Kissimmee, Florida, which they rent out for £600 a week. The home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms, all ‘fitted with luxury furnishings’. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy and owns a five-bedroom holiday home in Florida (pictured) – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information . Luxury: Sayer's Flordia home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms . The fake cash fraudster . Also trading in people’s personal information for B2C is convicted fraudster Gary Doran, 36, who wanted the Mail’s undercover team to pay Sayer off the books. The Mancunian, who now lives in Marbella, was jailed for six months for fraud in 2004 for trying to use two fake £10 notes to buy vodka. A 23-year-old student at Manchester Metropolitan University at the time, he tried to buy drink with the fake money at the Queen of Hearts pub in Fallowfield. The barmaid rejected the notes and the police were called, later finding him with 15 other fake bank notes. After serving time in jail, he has since run several failing businesses with his father and brother from their family home in Manchester. Most recently, as sales director of B2C Data, he asked an undercover reporter from the Mail to buy data off the books as a ‘favour to a friend’. He wanted the money to be paid directly into Sayer’s personal account, as a way of avoiding tax. Sporting life: The 180mph British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car on the Sayer's Facebook page . Jet-setting boss who said he knew nothing . B2C owner Stephen Hogg insists his firm ‘do everything completely, totally and utterly by the book’. The jet-setting golfer was, however, completely oblivious to his staff offering to sell data tax free through their own accounts. He even had no idea Doran had previously served time for fraud. The 46-year-old lives with his wife Sarah, 43, and their children in a £400,000 five-bedroom house in Rushden, Northamptonshire. Last week, there were three cars on the driveway outside the large home in a secluded cul-de-sac. Hogg appears to have spent much of the past month playing golf at clubs across Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. He and his wife also go online to boast of their holidays to Portugal and Australia. ‘Holidays, bar, golf and no diet!, he wrote during one of his travels. The couple, who have two children, started B2C Data just three months after his previous data company Unique Prospects was dissolved. He said he has also shut another firm down in the past after ‘certain allegations’, before insisting ‘that wasn’t my company by the way’. When approached by the Mail about B2C’s activities, Hogg said: ‘We are a member of the ICO [Information Commissioner’s Office], and DMA [Direct Marketing Association]. We do everything correctly.’ When told his employees had offered to sell his company’s data off the books and that Doran is a convicted fraudster, he added: ‘You’ve just made me aware of two things that I need to go and talk to people about.’ He described B2C Data as ‘a legitimate business’ working within the law. Cold callers use a wide range of tricks to obtain people's personal data (picture posed by model) Will writing: Pensioners are often targeted by callers who offer will writing advice on the cheap. This is often a ploy to gain your trust and access as many personal details – including about your finances – as possible. The firms then try to sell high risk investments as ‘add-ons’. Charity surveys: A homeowner is called and asked to complete a survey for charity. They are told if they answer a certain number of questions, a pre-selected charity will be paid £10 or so – so many kind-hearted people naturally agree. However, all the answers are collated and sold on. ‘Validating’ your details: Marketing firms will call customers of a major brand and claim they need to ‘validate’ the details they hold. After asking the customer to confirm their name, address and phone number, however, many will go on to try to get you to complete a ‘lifestyle survey’. These questions are, in fact, sponsored by various other companies and details are sold on. Soft questions: Watch out for surveys starting with ‘easy’ questions. One firm admitted it starts surveys with questions anyone would answer – like do you have a television? Only later do the questions become more intrusive – about your earnings and the worth of your home. Computer updates: Scammers try to hack into PCs by pretending to be from Microsoft. Following their ‘updating’ instructions can allow them to take control of the computer remotely and capture personal data. No call lists: The telephone preference list, which should block cold callers, is a free service. Some firms will, however, try to charge you as much as £1.60 a month. Shares: With your financial details on file, some cold calling firms are able to see which companies you have shares in. As a result, scammers can pretend to be calling from the companies you have invested in and try to convince the homeowner to pass on more financial details. Prizes: Once they have your details, scammers are able to send you misleading letters saying you have won large cash prizes. There are often hidden costs in claiming this supposed prize, like making you call premium rate phone numbers.
|
Dataset: ccdv/cnn_dailymail/3.0.0/validation
| 8.1
| 103.693229
| 1,472
| 61.522965
| 0.524752
| 0.703096
| 0.974144
| 0.735696
| 0.000493
| 4.094777
| null | -0.671969
| -0.152907
| -0.107411
| null | 0.031127
| 0.821237
| 0.628285
|
1,009
| 364
|
Life in the fast lane: B2C's Nick Sayer on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson . The data Del Boy . Posing on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson, Nick Sayer soaks up the winter sun outside his holiday home in Florida. It is one of several shots of motorbikes, supercars and lavish holidays he has posted online in recent years…to the delight of his friends. For while pensioners are targeted every day by cold callers, the man who sold their personal data is apparently relishing the spoils. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information. The 45-year-old father-of-two says he carries out his business from a ‘man cave’ in the garden of his home in Kent. He began his working life as a diver on oil rigs in Azerbaijan, before, he claims, he was set up in business by a Greek shipping billionaire. They ran a commercial diving company before he decided to make money for himself by selling personal data with a series of companies, most of which have been dissolved or liquidated. ‘For years I was called “oh, you’re just a Del Boy”,’ he said. ‘I work from home, I’ve got a little log cabin thing out in me garden, that’s where I kind of base me-self. ‘I don’t like being in the house, I just go out there. It’s a bit of a man cave really.’ While his garden office may be modest, Sayer’s other tastes are much more ostentatious. His Facebook page shows off images of nine sports cars as well as pictures of him skiing in Banff, Canada. Scroll down for video . The British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car which he pictures on a drive on his profile costs up to £50,000 and boasts a top speed of 180mph. The Harley-Davidson Road King motorbike he is seen on in one image costs £17,595 new. Sayer regularly holidays with his family at his villa in Kissimmee, Florida, which they rent out for £600 a week. The home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms, all ‘fitted with luxury furnishings’. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy and owns a five-bedroom holiday home in Florida (pictured) – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information . Luxury: Sayer's Flordia home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms . The fake cash fraudster . Also trading in people’s personal information for B2C is convicted fraudster Gary Doran, 36, who wanted the Mail’s undercover team to pay Sayer off the books. The Mancunian, who now lives in Marbella, was jailed for six months for fraud in 2004 for trying to use two fake £10 notes to buy vodka. A 23-year-old student at Manchester Metropolitan University at the time, he tried to buy drink with the fake money at the Queen of Hearts pub in Fallowfield. The barmaid rejected the notes and the police were called, later finding him with 15 other fake bank notes. After serving time in jail, he has since run several failing businesses with his father and brother from their family home in Manchester. Most recently, as sales director of B2C Data, he asked an undercover reporter from the Mail to buy data off the books as a ‘favour to a friend’. He wanted the money to be paid directly into Sayer’s personal account, as a way of avoiding tax. Sporting life: The 180mph British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car on the Sayer's Facebook page . Jet-setting boss who said he knew nothing . B2C owner Stephen Hogg insists his firm ‘do everything completely, totally and utterly by the book’. The jet-setting golfer was, however, completely oblivious to his staff offering to sell data tax free through their own accounts. He even had no idea Doran had previously served time for fraud. The 46-year-old lives with his wife Sarah, 43, and their children in a £400,000 five-bedroom house in Rushden, Northamptonshire. Last week, there were three cars on the driveway outside the large home in a secluded cul-de-sac. Hogg appears to have spent much of the past month playing golf at clubs across Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. He and his wife also go online to boast of their holidays to Portugal and Australia. ‘Holidays, bar, golf and no diet!, he wrote during one of his travels. The couple, who have two children, started B2C Data just three months after his previous data company Unique Prospects was dissolved. He said he has also shut another firm down in the past after ‘certain allegations’, before insisting ‘that wasn’t my company by the way’. When approached by the Mail about B2C’s activities, Hogg said: ‘We are a member of the ICO [Information Commissioner’s Office], and DMA [Direct Marketing Association]. We do everything correctly.’ When told his employees had offered to sell his company’s data off the books and that Doran is a convicted fraudster, he added: ‘You’ve just made me aware of two things that I need to go and talk to people about.’ He described B2C Data as ‘a legitimate business’ working within the law. Cold callers use a wide range of tricks to obtain people's personal data (picture posed by model) Will writing: Pensioners are often targeted by callers who offer will writing advice on the cheap. This is often a ploy to gain your trust and access as many personal details – including about your finances – as possible. The firms then try to sell high risk investments as ‘add-ons’. Charity surveys: A homeowner is called and asked to complete a survey for charity. They are told if they answer a certain number of questions, a pre-selected charity will be paid £10 or so – so many kind-hearted people naturally agree. However, all the answers are collated and sold on. ‘Validating’ your details: Marketing firms will call customers of a major brand and claim they need to ‘validate’ the details they hold. After asking the customer to confirm their name, address and phone number, however, many will go on to try to get you to complete a ‘lifestyle survey’. These questions are, in fact, sponsored by various other companies and details are sold on. Soft questions: Watch out for surveys starting with ‘easy’ questions. One firm admitted it starts surveys with questions anyone would answer – like do you have a television? Only later do the questions become more intrusive – about your earnings and the worth of your home. Computer updates: Scammers try to hack into PCs by pretending to be from Microsoft. Following their ‘updating’ instructions can allow them to take control of the computer remotely and capture personal data. No call lists: The telephone preference list, which should block cold callers, is a free service. Some firms will, however, try to charge you as much as £1.60 a month. Shares: With your financial details on file, some cold calling firms are able to see which companies you have shares in. As a result, scammers can pretend to be calling from the companies you have invested in and try to convince the homeowner to pass on more financial details. Prizes: Once they have your details, scammers are able to send you misleading letters saying you have won large cash prizes. There are often hidden costs in claiming this supposed prize, like making you call premium rate phone numbers.
|
Dataset: ccdv/cnn_dailymail/3.0.0/validation
| 8.1
| 103.693229
| 1,472
| 61.522965
| 0.524752
| 0.703096
| 0.974144
| 0.735696
| 0.000493
| 4.094777
| -0.164188
| 0.100555
| null | -0.109889
| 0.360565
| 0.803651
| null | 0.625807
|
1,010
| 364
|
Life in the fast lane: B2C's Nick Sayer on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson . The data Del Boy . Posing on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson, Nick Sayer soaks up the winter sun outside his holiday home in Florida. It is one of several shots of motorbikes, supercars and lavish holidays he has posted online in recent years…to the delight of his friends. For while pensioners are targeted every day by cold callers, the man who sold their personal data is apparently relishing the spoils. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information. The 45-year-old father-of-two says he carries out his business from a ‘man cave’ in the garden of his home in Kent. He began his working life as a diver on oil rigs in Azerbaijan, before, he claims, he was set up in business by a Greek shipping billionaire. They ran a commercial diving company before he decided to make money for himself by selling personal data with a series of companies, most of which have been dissolved or liquidated. ‘For years I was called “oh, you’re just a Del Boy”,’ he said. ‘I work from home, I’ve got a little log cabin thing out in me garden, that’s where I kind of base me-self. ‘I don’t like being in the house, I just go out there. It’s a bit of a man cave really.’ While his garden office may be modest, Sayer’s other tastes are much more ostentatious. His Facebook page shows off images of nine sports cars as well as pictures of him skiing in Banff, Canada. Scroll down for video . The British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car which he pictures on a drive on his profile costs up to £50,000 and boasts a top speed of 180mph. The Harley-Davidson Road King motorbike he is seen on in one image costs £17,595 new. Sayer regularly holidays with his family at his villa in Kissimmee, Florida, which they rent out for £600 a week. The home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms, all ‘fitted with luxury furnishings’. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy and owns a five-bedroom holiday home in Florida (pictured) – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information . Luxury: Sayer's Flordia home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms . The fake cash fraudster . Also trading in people’s personal information for B2C is convicted fraudster Gary Doran, 36, who wanted the Mail’s undercover team to pay Sayer off the books. The Mancunian, who now lives in Marbella, was jailed for six months for fraud in 2004 for trying to use two fake £10 notes to buy vodka. A 23-year-old student at Manchester Metropolitan University at the time, he tried to buy drink with the fake money at the Queen of Hearts pub in Fallowfield. The barmaid rejected the notes and the police were called, later finding him with 15 other fake bank notes. After serving time in jail, he has since run several failing businesses with his father and brother from their family home in Manchester. Most recently, as sales director of B2C Data, he asked an undercover reporter from the Mail to buy data off the books as a ‘favour to a friend’. He wanted the money to be paid directly into Sayer’s personal account, as a way of avoiding tax. Sporting life: The 180mph British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car on the Sayer's Facebook page . Jet-setting boss who said he knew nothing . B2C owner Stephen Hogg insists his firm ‘do everything completely, totally and utterly by the book’. The jet-setting golfer was, however, completely oblivious to his staff offering to sell data tax free through their own accounts. He even had no idea Doran had previously served time for fraud. The 46-year-old lives with his wife Sarah, 43, and their children in a £400,000 five-bedroom house in Rushden, Northamptonshire. Last week, there were three cars on the driveway outside the large home in a secluded cul-de-sac. Hogg appears to have spent much of the past month playing golf at clubs across Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. He and his wife also go online to boast of their holidays to Portugal and Australia. ‘Holidays, bar, golf and no diet!, he wrote during one of his travels. The couple, who have two children, started B2C Data just three months after his previous data company Unique Prospects was dissolved. He said he has also shut another firm down in the past after ‘certain allegations’, before insisting ‘that wasn’t my company by the way’. When approached by the Mail about B2C’s activities, Hogg said: ‘We are a member of the ICO [Information Commissioner’s Office], and DMA [Direct Marketing Association]. We do everything correctly.’ When told his employees had offered to sell his company’s data off the books and that Doran is a convicted fraudster, he added: ‘You’ve just made me aware of two things that I need to go and talk to people about.’ He described B2C Data as ‘a legitimate business’ working within the law. Cold callers use a wide range of tricks to obtain people's personal data (picture posed by model) Will writing: Pensioners are often targeted by callers who offer will writing advice on the cheap. This is often a ploy to gain your trust and access as many personal details – including about your finances – as possible. The firms then try to sell high risk investments as ‘add-ons’. Charity surveys: A homeowner is called and asked to complete a survey for charity. They are told if they answer a certain number of questions, a pre-selected charity will be paid £10 or so – so many kind-hearted people naturally agree. However, all the answers are collated and sold on. ‘Validating’ your details: Marketing firms will call customers of a major brand and claim they need to ‘validate’ the details they hold. After asking the customer to confirm their name, address and phone number, however, many will go on to try to get you to complete a ‘lifestyle survey’. These questions are, in fact, sponsored by various other companies and details are sold on. Soft questions: Watch out for surveys starting with ‘easy’ questions. One firm admitted it starts surveys with questions anyone would answer – like do you have a television? Only later do the questions become more intrusive – about your earnings and the worth of your home. Computer updates: Scammers try to hack into PCs by pretending to be from Microsoft. Following their ‘updating’ instructions can allow them to take control of the computer remotely and capture personal data. No call lists: The telephone preference list, which should block cold callers, is a free service. Some firms will, however, try to charge you as much as £1.60 a month. Shares: With your financial details on file, some cold calling firms are able to see which companies you have shares in. As a result, scammers can pretend to be calling from the companies you have invested in and try to convince the homeowner to pass on more financial details. Prizes: Once they have your details, scammers are able to send you misleading letters saying you have won large cash prizes. There are often hidden costs in claiming this supposed prize, like making you call premium rate phone numbers.
|
Dataset: ccdv/cnn_dailymail/3.0.0/validation
| 8.1
| 103.693229
| 1,472
| 61.522965
| 0.524752
| 0.703096
| 0.974144
| 0.735696
| 0.000493
| 4.094777
| 0.349145
| null | -0.599073
| 0.137104
| 0.873897
| null | 0.375071
| 0.8728
|
1,011
| 364
|
Life in the fast lane: B2C's Nick Sayer on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson . The data Del Boy . Posing on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson, Nick Sayer soaks up the winter sun outside his holiday home in Florida. It is one of several shots of motorbikes, supercars and lavish holidays he has posted online in recent years…to the delight of his friends. For while pensioners are targeted every day by cold callers, the man who sold their personal data is apparently relishing the spoils. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information. The 45-year-old father-of-two says he carries out his business from a ‘man cave’ in the garden of his home in Kent. He began his working life as a diver on oil rigs in Azerbaijan, before, he claims, he was set up in business by a Greek shipping billionaire. They ran a commercial diving company before he decided to make money for himself by selling personal data with a series of companies, most of which have been dissolved or liquidated. ‘For years I was called “oh, you’re just a Del Boy”,’ he said. ‘I work from home, I’ve got a little log cabin thing out in me garden, that’s where I kind of base me-self. ‘I don’t like being in the house, I just go out there. It’s a bit of a man cave really.’ While his garden office may be modest, Sayer’s other tastes are much more ostentatious. His Facebook page shows off images of nine sports cars as well as pictures of him skiing in Banff, Canada. Scroll down for video . The British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car which he pictures on a drive on his profile costs up to £50,000 and boasts a top speed of 180mph. The Harley-Davidson Road King motorbike he is seen on in one image costs £17,595 new. Sayer regularly holidays with his family at his villa in Kissimmee, Florida, which they rent out for £600 a week. The home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms, all ‘fitted with luxury furnishings’. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy and owns a five-bedroom holiday home in Florida (pictured) – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information . Luxury: Sayer's Flordia home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms . The fake cash fraudster . Also trading in people’s personal information for B2C is convicted fraudster Gary Doran, 36, who wanted the Mail’s undercover team to pay Sayer off the books. The Mancunian, who now lives in Marbella, was jailed for six months for fraud in 2004 for trying to use two fake £10 notes to buy vodka. A 23-year-old student at Manchester Metropolitan University at the time, he tried to buy drink with the fake money at the Queen of Hearts pub in Fallowfield. The barmaid rejected the notes and the police were called, later finding him with 15 other fake bank notes. After serving time in jail, he has since run several failing businesses with his father and brother from their family home in Manchester. Most recently, as sales director of B2C Data, he asked an undercover reporter from the Mail to buy data off the books as a ‘favour to a friend’. He wanted the money to be paid directly into Sayer’s personal account, as a way of avoiding tax. Sporting life: The 180mph British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car on the Sayer's Facebook page . Jet-setting boss who said he knew nothing . B2C owner Stephen Hogg insists his firm ‘do everything completely, totally and utterly by the book’. The jet-setting golfer was, however, completely oblivious to his staff offering to sell data tax free through their own accounts. He even had no idea Doran had previously served time for fraud. The 46-year-old lives with his wife Sarah, 43, and their children in a £400,000 five-bedroom house in Rushden, Northamptonshire. Last week, there were three cars on the driveway outside the large home in a secluded cul-de-sac. Hogg appears to have spent much of the past month playing golf at clubs across Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. He and his wife also go online to boast of their holidays to Portugal and Australia. ‘Holidays, bar, golf and no diet!, he wrote during one of his travels. The couple, who have two children, started B2C Data just three months after his previous data company Unique Prospects was dissolved. He said he has also shut another firm down in the past after ‘certain allegations’, before insisting ‘that wasn’t my company by the way’. When approached by the Mail about B2C’s activities, Hogg said: ‘We are a member of the ICO [Information Commissioner’s Office], and DMA [Direct Marketing Association]. We do everything correctly.’ When told his employees had offered to sell his company’s data off the books and that Doran is a convicted fraudster, he added: ‘You’ve just made me aware of two things that I need to go and talk to people about.’ He described B2C Data as ‘a legitimate business’ working within the law. Cold callers use a wide range of tricks to obtain people's personal data (picture posed by model) Will writing: Pensioners are often targeted by callers who offer will writing advice on the cheap. This is often a ploy to gain your trust and access as many personal details – including about your finances – as possible. The firms then try to sell high risk investments as ‘add-ons’. Charity surveys: A homeowner is called and asked to complete a survey for charity. They are told if they answer a certain number of questions, a pre-selected charity will be paid £10 or so – so many kind-hearted people naturally agree. However, all the answers are collated and sold on. ‘Validating’ your details: Marketing firms will call customers of a major brand and claim they need to ‘validate’ the details they hold. After asking the customer to confirm their name, address and phone number, however, many will go on to try to get you to complete a ‘lifestyle survey’. These questions are, in fact, sponsored by various other companies and details are sold on. Soft questions: Watch out for surveys starting with ‘easy’ questions. One firm admitted it starts surveys with questions anyone would answer – like do you have a television? Only later do the questions become more intrusive – about your earnings and the worth of your home. Computer updates: Scammers try to hack into PCs by pretending to be from Microsoft. Following their ‘updating’ instructions can allow them to take control of the computer remotely and capture personal data. No call lists: The telephone preference list, which should block cold callers, is a free service. Some firms will, however, try to charge you as much as £1.60 a month. Shares: With your financial details on file, some cold calling firms are able to see which companies you have shares in. As a result, scammers can pretend to be calling from the companies you have invested in and try to convince the homeowner to pass on more financial details. Prizes: Once they have your details, scammers are able to send you misleading letters saying you have won large cash prizes. There are often hidden costs in claiming this supposed prize, like making you call premium rate phone numbers.
|
Dataset: ccdv/cnn_dailymail/3.0.0/validation
| 8.1
| 103.693229
| 1,472
| 61.522965
| 0.524752
| 0.703096
| 0.974144
| 0.735696
| 0.000493
| 4.094777
| -0.368665
| null | -0.42481
| -0.182584
| 0.156087
| null | 0.549334
| 0.553112
|
1,012
| 364
|
Life in the fast lane: B2C's Nick Sayer on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson . The data Del Boy . Posing on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson, Nick Sayer soaks up the winter sun outside his holiday home in Florida. It is one of several shots of motorbikes, supercars and lavish holidays he has posted online in recent years…to the delight of his friends. For while pensioners are targeted every day by cold callers, the man who sold their personal data is apparently relishing the spoils. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information. The 45-year-old father-of-two says he carries out his business from a ‘man cave’ in the garden of his home in Kent. He began his working life as a diver on oil rigs in Azerbaijan, before, he claims, he was set up in business by a Greek shipping billionaire. They ran a commercial diving company before he decided to make money for himself by selling personal data with a series of companies, most of which have been dissolved or liquidated. ‘For years I was called “oh, you’re just a Del Boy”,’ he said. ‘I work from home, I’ve got a little log cabin thing out in me garden, that’s where I kind of base me-self. ‘I don’t like being in the house, I just go out there. It’s a bit of a man cave really.’ While his garden office may be modest, Sayer’s other tastes are much more ostentatious. His Facebook page shows off images of nine sports cars as well as pictures of him skiing in Banff, Canada. Scroll down for video . The British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car which he pictures on a drive on his profile costs up to £50,000 and boasts a top speed of 180mph. The Harley-Davidson Road King motorbike he is seen on in one image costs £17,595 new. Sayer regularly holidays with his family at his villa in Kissimmee, Florida, which they rent out for £600 a week. The home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms, all ‘fitted with luxury furnishings’. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy and owns a five-bedroom holiday home in Florida (pictured) – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information . Luxury: Sayer's Flordia home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms . The fake cash fraudster . Also trading in people’s personal information for B2C is convicted fraudster Gary Doran, 36, who wanted the Mail’s undercover team to pay Sayer off the books. The Mancunian, who now lives in Marbella, was jailed for six months for fraud in 2004 for trying to use two fake £10 notes to buy vodka. A 23-year-old student at Manchester Metropolitan University at the time, he tried to buy drink with the fake money at the Queen of Hearts pub in Fallowfield. The barmaid rejected the notes and the police were called, later finding him with 15 other fake bank notes. After serving time in jail, he has since run several failing businesses with his father and brother from their family home in Manchester. Most recently, as sales director of B2C Data, he asked an undercover reporter from the Mail to buy data off the books as a ‘favour to a friend’. He wanted the money to be paid directly into Sayer’s personal account, as a way of avoiding tax. Sporting life: The 180mph British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car on the Sayer's Facebook page . Jet-setting boss who said he knew nothing . B2C owner Stephen Hogg insists his firm ‘do everything completely, totally and utterly by the book’. The jet-setting golfer was, however, completely oblivious to his staff offering to sell data tax free through their own accounts. He even had no idea Doran had previously served time for fraud. The 46-year-old lives with his wife Sarah, 43, and their children in a £400,000 five-bedroom house in Rushden, Northamptonshire. Last week, there were three cars on the driveway outside the large home in a secluded cul-de-sac. Hogg appears to have spent much of the past month playing golf at clubs across Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. He and his wife also go online to boast of their holidays to Portugal and Australia. ‘Holidays, bar, golf and no diet!, he wrote during one of his travels. The couple, who have two children, started B2C Data just three months after his previous data company Unique Prospects was dissolved. He said he has also shut another firm down in the past after ‘certain allegations’, before insisting ‘that wasn’t my company by the way’. When approached by the Mail about B2C’s activities, Hogg said: ‘We are a member of the ICO [Information Commissioner’s Office], and DMA [Direct Marketing Association]. We do everything correctly.’ When told his employees had offered to sell his company’s data off the books and that Doran is a convicted fraudster, he added: ‘You’ve just made me aware of two things that I need to go and talk to people about.’ He described B2C Data as ‘a legitimate business’ working within the law. Cold callers use a wide range of tricks to obtain people's personal data (picture posed by model) Will writing: Pensioners are often targeted by callers who offer will writing advice on the cheap. This is often a ploy to gain your trust and access as many personal details – including about your finances – as possible. The firms then try to sell high risk investments as ‘add-ons’. Charity surveys: A homeowner is called and asked to complete a survey for charity. They are told if they answer a certain number of questions, a pre-selected charity will be paid £10 or so – so many kind-hearted people naturally agree. However, all the answers are collated and sold on. ‘Validating’ your details: Marketing firms will call customers of a major brand and claim they need to ‘validate’ the details they hold. After asking the customer to confirm their name, address and phone number, however, many will go on to try to get you to complete a ‘lifestyle survey’. These questions are, in fact, sponsored by various other companies and details are sold on. Soft questions: Watch out for surveys starting with ‘easy’ questions. One firm admitted it starts surveys with questions anyone would answer – like do you have a television? Only later do the questions become more intrusive – about your earnings and the worth of your home. Computer updates: Scammers try to hack into PCs by pretending to be from Microsoft. Following their ‘updating’ instructions can allow them to take control of the computer remotely and capture personal data. No call lists: The telephone preference list, which should block cold callers, is a free service. Some firms will, however, try to charge you as much as £1.60 a month. Shares: With your financial details on file, some cold calling firms are able to see which companies you have shares in. As a result, scammers can pretend to be calling from the companies you have invested in and try to convince the homeowner to pass on more financial details. Prizes: Once they have your details, scammers are able to send you misleading letters saying you have won large cash prizes. There are often hidden costs in claiming this supposed prize, like making you call premium rate phone numbers.
|
Dataset: ccdv/cnn_dailymail/3.0.0/validation
| 8.1
| 103.693229
| 1,472
| 61.522965
| 0.524752
| 0.703096
| 0.974144
| 0.735696
| 0.000493
| 4.094777
| -0.12696
| null | -0.525567
| 0.25187
| 0.397793
| null | 0.448577
| 0.987566
|
1,013
| 364
|
Life in the fast lane: B2C's Nick Sayer on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson . The data Del Boy . Posing on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson, Nick Sayer soaks up the winter sun outside his holiday home in Florida. It is one of several shots of motorbikes, supercars and lavish holidays he has posted online in recent years…to the delight of his friends. For while pensioners are targeted every day by cold callers, the man who sold their personal data is apparently relishing the spoils. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information. The 45-year-old father-of-two says he carries out his business from a ‘man cave’ in the garden of his home in Kent. He began his working life as a diver on oil rigs in Azerbaijan, before, he claims, he was set up in business by a Greek shipping billionaire. They ran a commercial diving company before he decided to make money for himself by selling personal data with a series of companies, most of which have been dissolved or liquidated. ‘For years I was called “oh, you’re just a Del Boy”,’ he said. ‘I work from home, I’ve got a little log cabin thing out in me garden, that’s where I kind of base me-self. ‘I don’t like being in the house, I just go out there. It’s a bit of a man cave really.’ While his garden office may be modest, Sayer’s other tastes are much more ostentatious. His Facebook page shows off images of nine sports cars as well as pictures of him skiing in Banff, Canada. Scroll down for video . The British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car which he pictures on a drive on his profile costs up to £50,000 and boasts a top speed of 180mph. The Harley-Davidson Road King motorbike he is seen on in one image costs £17,595 new. Sayer regularly holidays with his family at his villa in Kissimmee, Florida, which they rent out for £600 a week. The home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms, all ‘fitted with luxury furnishings’. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy and owns a five-bedroom holiday home in Florida (pictured) – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information . Luxury: Sayer's Flordia home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms . The fake cash fraudster . Also trading in people’s personal information for B2C is convicted fraudster Gary Doran, 36, who wanted the Mail’s undercover team to pay Sayer off the books. The Mancunian, who now lives in Marbella, was jailed for six months for fraud in 2004 for trying to use two fake £10 notes to buy vodka. A 23-year-old student at Manchester Metropolitan University at the time, he tried to buy drink with the fake money at the Queen of Hearts pub in Fallowfield. The barmaid rejected the notes and the police were called, later finding him with 15 other fake bank notes. After serving time in jail, he has since run several failing businesses with his father and brother from their family home in Manchester. Most recently, as sales director of B2C Data, he asked an undercover reporter from the Mail to buy data off the books as a ‘favour to a friend’. He wanted the money to be paid directly into Sayer’s personal account, as a way of avoiding tax. Sporting life: The 180mph British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car on the Sayer's Facebook page . Jet-setting boss who said he knew nothing . B2C owner Stephen Hogg insists his firm ‘do everything completely, totally and utterly by the book’. The jet-setting golfer was, however, completely oblivious to his staff offering to sell data tax free through their own accounts. He even had no idea Doran had previously served time for fraud. The 46-year-old lives with his wife Sarah, 43, and their children in a £400,000 five-bedroom house in Rushden, Northamptonshire. Last week, there were three cars on the driveway outside the large home in a secluded cul-de-sac. Hogg appears to have spent much of the past month playing golf at clubs across Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. He and his wife also go online to boast of their holidays to Portugal and Australia. ‘Holidays, bar, golf and no diet!, he wrote during one of his travels. The couple, who have two children, started B2C Data just three months after his previous data company Unique Prospects was dissolved. He said he has also shut another firm down in the past after ‘certain allegations’, before insisting ‘that wasn’t my company by the way’. When approached by the Mail about B2C’s activities, Hogg said: ‘We are a member of the ICO [Information Commissioner’s Office], and DMA [Direct Marketing Association]. We do everything correctly.’ When told his employees had offered to sell his company’s data off the books and that Doran is a convicted fraudster, he added: ‘You’ve just made me aware of two things that I need to go and talk to people about.’ He described B2C Data as ‘a legitimate business’ working within the law. Cold callers use a wide range of tricks to obtain people's personal data (picture posed by model) Will writing: Pensioners are often targeted by callers who offer will writing advice on the cheap. This is often a ploy to gain your trust and access as many personal details – including about your finances – as possible. The firms then try to sell high risk investments as ‘add-ons’. Charity surveys: A homeowner is called and asked to complete a survey for charity. They are told if they answer a certain number of questions, a pre-selected charity will be paid £10 or so – so many kind-hearted people naturally agree. However, all the answers are collated and sold on. ‘Validating’ your details: Marketing firms will call customers of a major brand and claim they need to ‘validate’ the details they hold. After asking the customer to confirm their name, address and phone number, however, many will go on to try to get you to complete a ‘lifestyle survey’. These questions are, in fact, sponsored by various other companies and details are sold on. Soft questions: Watch out for surveys starting with ‘easy’ questions. One firm admitted it starts surveys with questions anyone would answer – like do you have a television? Only later do the questions become more intrusive – about your earnings and the worth of your home. Computer updates: Scammers try to hack into PCs by pretending to be from Microsoft. Following their ‘updating’ instructions can allow them to take control of the computer remotely and capture personal data. No call lists: The telephone preference list, which should block cold callers, is a free service. Some firms will, however, try to charge you as much as £1.60 a month. Shares: With your financial details on file, some cold calling firms are able to see which companies you have shares in. As a result, scammers can pretend to be calling from the companies you have invested in and try to convince the homeowner to pass on more financial details. Prizes: Once they have your details, scammers are able to send you misleading letters saying you have won large cash prizes. There are often hidden costs in claiming this supposed prize, like making you call premium rate phone numbers.
|
Dataset: ccdv/cnn_dailymail/3.0.0/validation
| 8.1
| 103.693229
| 1,472
| 61.522965
| 0.524752
| 0.703096
| 0.974144
| 0.735696
| 0.000493
| 4.094777
| 0.443819
| null | -0.102222
| 0.146258
| 0.968572
| null | 0.871922
| 0.881954
|
1,014
| 364
|
Life in the fast lane: B2C's Nick Sayer on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson . The data Del Boy . Posing on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson, Nick Sayer soaks up the winter sun outside his holiday home in Florida. It is one of several shots of motorbikes, supercars and lavish holidays he has posted online in recent years…to the delight of his friends. For while pensioners are targeted every day by cold callers, the man who sold their personal data is apparently relishing the spoils. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information. The 45-year-old father-of-two says he carries out his business from a ‘man cave’ in the garden of his home in Kent. He began his working life as a diver on oil rigs in Azerbaijan, before, he claims, he was set up in business by a Greek shipping billionaire. They ran a commercial diving company before he decided to make money for himself by selling personal data with a series of companies, most of which have been dissolved or liquidated. ‘For years I was called “oh, you’re just a Del Boy”,’ he said. ‘I work from home, I’ve got a little log cabin thing out in me garden, that’s where I kind of base me-self. ‘I don’t like being in the house, I just go out there. It’s a bit of a man cave really.’ While his garden office may be modest, Sayer’s other tastes are much more ostentatious. His Facebook page shows off images of nine sports cars as well as pictures of him skiing in Banff, Canada. Scroll down for video . The British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car which he pictures on a drive on his profile costs up to £50,000 and boasts a top speed of 180mph. The Harley-Davidson Road King motorbike he is seen on in one image costs £17,595 new. Sayer regularly holidays with his family at his villa in Kissimmee, Florida, which they rent out for £600 a week. The home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms, all ‘fitted with luxury furnishings’. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy and owns a five-bedroom holiday home in Florida (pictured) – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information . Luxury: Sayer's Flordia home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms . The fake cash fraudster . Also trading in people’s personal information for B2C is convicted fraudster Gary Doran, 36, who wanted the Mail’s undercover team to pay Sayer off the books. The Mancunian, who now lives in Marbella, was jailed for six months for fraud in 2004 for trying to use two fake £10 notes to buy vodka. A 23-year-old student at Manchester Metropolitan University at the time, he tried to buy drink with the fake money at the Queen of Hearts pub in Fallowfield. The barmaid rejected the notes and the police were called, later finding him with 15 other fake bank notes. After serving time in jail, he has since run several failing businesses with his father and brother from their family home in Manchester. Most recently, as sales director of B2C Data, he asked an undercover reporter from the Mail to buy data off the books as a ‘favour to a friend’. He wanted the money to be paid directly into Sayer’s personal account, as a way of avoiding tax. Sporting life: The 180mph British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car on the Sayer's Facebook page . Jet-setting boss who said he knew nothing . B2C owner Stephen Hogg insists his firm ‘do everything completely, totally and utterly by the book’. The jet-setting golfer was, however, completely oblivious to his staff offering to sell data tax free through their own accounts. He even had no idea Doran had previously served time for fraud. The 46-year-old lives with his wife Sarah, 43, and their children in a £400,000 five-bedroom house in Rushden, Northamptonshire. Last week, there were three cars on the driveway outside the large home in a secluded cul-de-sac. Hogg appears to have spent much of the past month playing golf at clubs across Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. He and his wife also go online to boast of their holidays to Portugal and Australia. ‘Holidays, bar, golf and no diet!, he wrote during one of his travels. The couple, who have two children, started B2C Data just three months after his previous data company Unique Prospects was dissolved. He said he has also shut another firm down in the past after ‘certain allegations’, before insisting ‘that wasn’t my company by the way’. When approached by the Mail about B2C’s activities, Hogg said: ‘We are a member of the ICO [Information Commissioner’s Office], and DMA [Direct Marketing Association]. We do everything correctly.’ When told his employees had offered to sell his company’s data off the books and that Doran is a convicted fraudster, he added: ‘You’ve just made me aware of two things that I need to go and talk to people about.’ He described B2C Data as ‘a legitimate business’ working within the law. Cold callers use a wide range of tricks to obtain people's personal data (picture posed by model) Will writing: Pensioners are often targeted by callers who offer will writing advice on the cheap. This is often a ploy to gain your trust and access as many personal details – including about your finances – as possible. The firms then try to sell high risk investments as ‘add-ons’. Charity surveys: A homeowner is called and asked to complete a survey for charity. They are told if they answer a certain number of questions, a pre-selected charity will be paid £10 or so – so many kind-hearted people naturally agree. However, all the answers are collated and sold on. ‘Validating’ your details: Marketing firms will call customers of a major brand and claim they need to ‘validate’ the details they hold. After asking the customer to confirm their name, address and phone number, however, many will go on to try to get you to complete a ‘lifestyle survey’. These questions are, in fact, sponsored by various other companies and details are sold on. Soft questions: Watch out for surveys starting with ‘easy’ questions. One firm admitted it starts surveys with questions anyone would answer – like do you have a television? Only later do the questions become more intrusive – about your earnings and the worth of your home. Computer updates: Scammers try to hack into PCs by pretending to be from Microsoft. Following their ‘updating’ instructions can allow them to take control of the computer remotely and capture personal data. No call lists: The telephone preference list, which should block cold callers, is a free service. Some firms will, however, try to charge you as much as £1.60 a month. Shares: With your financial details on file, some cold calling firms are able to see which companies you have shares in. As a result, scammers can pretend to be calling from the companies you have invested in and try to convince the homeowner to pass on more financial details. Prizes: Once they have your details, scammers are able to send you misleading letters saying you have won large cash prizes. There are often hidden costs in claiming this supposed prize, like making you call premium rate phone numbers.
|
Dataset: ccdv/cnn_dailymail/3.0.0/validation
| 8.1
| 103.693229
| 1,472
| 61.522965
| 0.524752
| 0.703096
| 0.974144
| 0.735696
| 0.000493
| 4.094777
| 0.164015
| -0.668025
| null | -0.273955
| 0.688768
| 0.035072
| null | 0.461741
|
1,015
| 364
|
Life in the fast lane: B2C's Nick Sayer on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson . The data Del Boy . Posing on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson, Nick Sayer soaks up the winter sun outside his holiday home in Florida. It is one of several shots of motorbikes, supercars and lavish holidays he has posted online in recent years…to the delight of his friends. For while pensioners are targeted every day by cold callers, the man who sold their personal data is apparently relishing the spoils. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information. The 45-year-old father-of-two says he carries out his business from a ‘man cave’ in the garden of his home in Kent. He began his working life as a diver on oil rigs in Azerbaijan, before, he claims, he was set up in business by a Greek shipping billionaire. They ran a commercial diving company before he decided to make money for himself by selling personal data with a series of companies, most of which have been dissolved or liquidated. ‘For years I was called “oh, you’re just a Del Boy”,’ he said. ‘I work from home, I’ve got a little log cabin thing out in me garden, that’s where I kind of base me-self. ‘I don’t like being in the house, I just go out there. It’s a bit of a man cave really.’ While his garden office may be modest, Sayer’s other tastes are much more ostentatious. His Facebook page shows off images of nine sports cars as well as pictures of him skiing in Banff, Canada. Scroll down for video . The British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car which he pictures on a drive on his profile costs up to £50,000 and boasts a top speed of 180mph. The Harley-Davidson Road King motorbike he is seen on in one image costs £17,595 new. Sayer regularly holidays with his family at his villa in Kissimmee, Florida, which they rent out for £600 a week. The home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms, all ‘fitted with luxury furnishings’. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy and owns a five-bedroom holiday home in Florida (pictured) – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information . Luxury: Sayer's Flordia home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms . The fake cash fraudster . Also trading in people’s personal information for B2C is convicted fraudster Gary Doran, 36, who wanted the Mail’s undercover team to pay Sayer off the books. The Mancunian, who now lives in Marbella, was jailed for six months for fraud in 2004 for trying to use two fake £10 notes to buy vodka. A 23-year-old student at Manchester Metropolitan University at the time, he tried to buy drink with the fake money at the Queen of Hearts pub in Fallowfield. The barmaid rejected the notes and the police were called, later finding him with 15 other fake bank notes. After serving time in jail, he has since run several failing businesses with his father and brother from their family home in Manchester. Most recently, as sales director of B2C Data, he asked an undercover reporter from the Mail to buy data off the books as a ‘favour to a friend’. He wanted the money to be paid directly into Sayer’s personal account, as a way of avoiding tax. Sporting life: The 180mph British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car on the Sayer's Facebook page . Jet-setting boss who said he knew nothing . B2C owner Stephen Hogg insists his firm ‘do everything completely, totally and utterly by the book’. The jet-setting golfer was, however, completely oblivious to his staff offering to sell data tax free through their own accounts. He even had no idea Doran had previously served time for fraud. The 46-year-old lives with his wife Sarah, 43, and their children in a £400,000 five-bedroom house in Rushden, Northamptonshire. Last week, there were three cars on the driveway outside the large home in a secluded cul-de-sac. Hogg appears to have spent much of the past month playing golf at clubs across Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. He and his wife also go online to boast of their holidays to Portugal and Australia. ‘Holidays, bar, golf and no diet!, he wrote during one of his travels. The couple, who have two children, started B2C Data just three months after his previous data company Unique Prospects was dissolved. He said he has also shut another firm down in the past after ‘certain allegations’, before insisting ‘that wasn’t my company by the way’. When approached by the Mail about B2C’s activities, Hogg said: ‘We are a member of the ICO [Information Commissioner’s Office], and DMA [Direct Marketing Association]. We do everything correctly.’ When told his employees had offered to sell his company’s data off the books and that Doran is a convicted fraudster, he added: ‘You’ve just made me aware of two things that I need to go and talk to people about.’ He described B2C Data as ‘a legitimate business’ working within the law. Cold callers use a wide range of tricks to obtain people's personal data (picture posed by model) Will writing: Pensioners are often targeted by callers who offer will writing advice on the cheap. This is often a ploy to gain your trust and access as many personal details – including about your finances – as possible. The firms then try to sell high risk investments as ‘add-ons’. Charity surveys: A homeowner is called and asked to complete a survey for charity. They are told if they answer a certain number of questions, a pre-selected charity will be paid £10 or so – so many kind-hearted people naturally agree. However, all the answers are collated and sold on. ‘Validating’ your details: Marketing firms will call customers of a major brand and claim they need to ‘validate’ the details they hold. After asking the customer to confirm their name, address and phone number, however, many will go on to try to get you to complete a ‘lifestyle survey’. These questions are, in fact, sponsored by various other companies and details are sold on. Soft questions: Watch out for surveys starting with ‘easy’ questions. One firm admitted it starts surveys with questions anyone would answer – like do you have a television? Only later do the questions become more intrusive – about your earnings and the worth of your home. Computer updates: Scammers try to hack into PCs by pretending to be from Microsoft. Following their ‘updating’ instructions can allow them to take control of the computer remotely and capture personal data. No call lists: The telephone preference list, which should block cold callers, is a free service. Some firms will, however, try to charge you as much as £1.60 a month. Shares: With your financial details on file, some cold calling firms are able to see which companies you have shares in. As a result, scammers can pretend to be calling from the companies you have invested in and try to convince the homeowner to pass on more financial details. Prizes: Once they have your details, scammers are able to send you misleading letters saying you have won large cash prizes. There are often hidden costs in claiming this supposed prize, like making you call premium rate phone numbers.
|
Dataset: ccdv/cnn_dailymail/3.0.0/validation
| 8.1
| 103.693229
| 1,472
| 61.522965
| 0.524752
| 0.703096
| 0.974144
| 0.735696
| 0.000493
| 4.094777
| 0.370028
| null | -0.200196
| -0.166383
| 0.894781
| null | 0.773948
| 0.569313
|
1,016
| 364
|
Life in the fast lane: B2C's Nick Sayer on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson . The data Del Boy . Posing on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson, Nick Sayer soaks up the winter sun outside his holiday home in Florida. It is one of several shots of motorbikes, supercars and lavish holidays he has posted online in recent years…to the delight of his friends. For while pensioners are targeted every day by cold callers, the man who sold their personal data is apparently relishing the spoils. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information. The 45-year-old father-of-two says he carries out his business from a ‘man cave’ in the garden of his home in Kent. He began his working life as a diver on oil rigs in Azerbaijan, before, he claims, he was set up in business by a Greek shipping billionaire. They ran a commercial diving company before he decided to make money for himself by selling personal data with a series of companies, most of which have been dissolved or liquidated. ‘For years I was called “oh, you’re just a Del Boy”,’ he said. ‘I work from home, I’ve got a little log cabin thing out in me garden, that’s where I kind of base me-self. ‘I don’t like being in the house, I just go out there. It’s a bit of a man cave really.’ While his garden office may be modest, Sayer’s other tastes are much more ostentatious. His Facebook page shows off images of nine sports cars as well as pictures of him skiing in Banff, Canada. Scroll down for video . The British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car which he pictures on a drive on his profile costs up to £50,000 and boasts a top speed of 180mph. The Harley-Davidson Road King motorbike he is seen on in one image costs £17,595 new. Sayer regularly holidays with his family at his villa in Kissimmee, Florida, which they rent out for £600 a week. The home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms, all ‘fitted with luxury furnishings’. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy and owns a five-bedroom holiday home in Florida (pictured) – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information . Luxury: Sayer's Flordia home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms . The fake cash fraudster . Also trading in people’s personal information for B2C is convicted fraudster Gary Doran, 36, who wanted the Mail’s undercover team to pay Sayer off the books. The Mancunian, who now lives in Marbella, was jailed for six months for fraud in 2004 for trying to use two fake £10 notes to buy vodka. A 23-year-old student at Manchester Metropolitan University at the time, he tried to buy drink with the fake money at the Queen of Hearts pub in Fallowfield. The barmaid rejected the notes and the police were called, later finding him with 15 other fake bank notes. After serving time in jail, he has since run several failing businesses with his father and brother from their family home in Manchester. Most recently, as sales director of B2C Data, he asked an undercover reporter from the Mail to buy data off the books as a ‘favour to a friend’. He wanted the money to be paid directly into Sayer’s personal account, as a way of avoiding tax. Sporting life: The 180mph British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car on the Sayer's Facebook page . Jet-setting boss who said he knew nothing . B2C owner Stephen Hogg insists his firm ‘do everything completely, totally and utterly by the book’. The jet-setting golfer was, however, completely oblivious to his staff offering to sell data tax free through their own accounts. He even had no idea Doran had previously served time for fraud. The 46-year-old lives with his wife Sarah, 43, and their children in a £400,000 five-bedroom house in Rushden, Northamptonshire. Last week, there were three cars on the driveway outside the large home in a secluded cul-de-sac. Hogg appears to have spent much of the past month playing golf at clubs across Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. He and his wife also go online to boast of their holidays to Portugal and Australia. ‘Holidays, bar, golf and no diet!, he wrote during one of his travels. The couple, who have two children, started B2C Data just three months after his previous data company Unique Prospects was dissolved. He said he has also shut another firm down in the past after ‘certain allegations’, before insisting ‘that wasn’t my company by the way’. When approached by the Mail about B2C’s activities, Hogg said: ‘We are a member of the ICO [Information Commissioner’s Office], and DMA [Direct Marketing Association]. We do everything correctly.’ When told his employees had offered to sell his company’s data off the books and that Doran is a convicted fraudster, he added: ‘You’ve just made me aware of two things that I need to go and talk to people about.’ He described B2C Data as ‘a legitimate business’ working within the law. Cold callers use a wide range of tricks to obtain people's personal data (picture posed by model) Will writing: Pensioners are often targeted by callers who offer will writing advice on the cheap. This is often a ploy to gain your trust and access as many personal details – including about your finances – as possible. The firms then try to sell high risk investments as ‘add-ons’. Charity surveys: A homeowner is called and asked to complete a survey for charity. They are told if they answer a certain number of questions, a pre-selected charity will be paid £10 or so – so many kind-hearted people naturally agree. However, all the answers are collated and sold on. ‘Validating’ your details: Marketing firms will call customers of a major brand and claim they need to ‘validate’ the details they hold. After asking the customer to confirm their name, address and phone number, however, many will go on to try to get you to complete a ‘lifestyle survey’. These questions are, in fact, sponsored by various other companies and details are sold on. Soft questions: Watch out for surveys starting with ‘easy’ questions. One firm admitted it starts surveys with questions anyone would answer – like do you have a television? Only later do the questions become more intrusive – about your earnings and the worth of your home. Computer updates: Scammers try to hack into PCs by pretending to be from Microsoft. Following their ‘updating’ instructions can allow them to take control of the computer remotely and capture personal data. No call lists: The telephone preference list, which should block cold callers, is a free service. Some firms will, however, try to charge you as much as £1.60 a month. Shares: With your financial details on file, some cold calling firms are able to see which companies you have shares in. As a result, scammers can pretend to be calling from the companies you have invested in and try to convince the homeowner to pass on more financial details. Prizes: Once they have your details, scammers are able to send you misleading letters saying you have won large cash prizes. There are often hidden costs in claiming this supposed prize, like making you call premium rate phone numbers.
|
Dataset: ccdv/cnn_dailymail/3.0.0/validation
| 8.1
| 103.693229
| 1,472
| 61.522965
| 0.524752
| 0.703096
| 0.974144
| 0.735696
| 0.000493
| 4.094777
| null | -0.432113
| -0.514918
| -0.684679
| null | 0.270984
| 0.459225
| 0.051017
|
1,017
| 364
|
Life in the fast lane: B2C's Nick Sayer on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson . The data Del Boy . Posing on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson, Nick Sayer soaks up the winter sun outside his holiday home in Florida. It is one of several shots of motorbikes, supercars and lavish holidays he has posted online in recent years…to the delight of his friends. For while pensioners are targeted every day by cold callers, the man who sold their personal data is apparently relishing the spoils. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information. The 45-year-old father-of-two says he carries out his business from a ‘man cave’ in the garden of his home in Kent. He began his working life as a diver on oil rigs in Azerbaijan, before, he claims, he was set up in business by a Greek shipping billionaire. They ran a commercial diving company before he decided to make money for himself by selling personal data with a series of companies, most of which have been dissolved or liquidated. ‘For years I was called “oh, you’re just a Del Boy”,’ he said. ‘I work from home, I’ve got a little log cabin thing out in me garden, that’s where I kind of base me-self. ‘I don’t like being in the house, I just go out there. It’s a bit of a man cave really.’ While his garden office may be modest, Sayer’s other tastes are much more ostentatious. His Facebook page shows off images of nine sports cars as well as pictures of him skiing in Banff, Canada. Scroll down for video . The British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car which he pictures on a drive on his profile costs up to £50,000 and boasts a top speed of 180mph. The Harley-Davidson Road King motorbike he is seen on in one image costs £17,595 new. Sayer regularly holidays with his family at his villa in Kissimmee, Florida, which they rent out for £600 a week. The home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms, all ‘fitted with luxury furnishings’. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy and owns a five-bedroom holiday home in Florida (pictured) – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information . Luxury: Sayer's Flordia home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms . The fake cash fraudster . Also trading in people’s personal information for B2C is convicted fraudster Gary Doran, 36, who wanted the Mail’s undercover team to pay Sayer off the books. The Mancunian, who now lives in Marbella, was jailed for six months for fraud in 2004 for trying to use two fake £10 notes to buy vodka. A 23-year-old student at Manchester Metropolitan University at the time, he tried to buy drink with the fake money at the Queen of Hearts pub in Fallowfield. The barmaid rejected the notes and the police were called, later finding him with 15 other fake bank notes. After serving time in jail, he has since run several failing businesses with his father and brother from their family home in Manchester. Most recently, as sales director of B2C Data, he asked an undercover reporter from the Mail to buy data off the books as a ‘favour to a friend’. He wanted the money to be paid directly into Sayer’s personal account, as a way of avoiding tax. Sporting life: The 180mph British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car on the Sayer's Facebook page . Jet-setting boss who said he knew nothing . B2C owner Stephen Hogg insists his firm ‘do everything completely, totally and utterly by the book’. The jet-setting golfer was, however, completely oblivious to his staff offering to sell data tax free through their own accounts. He even had no idea Doran had previously served time for fraud. The 46-year-old lives with his wife Sarah, 43, and their children in a £400,000 five-bedroom house in Rushden, Northamptonshire. Last week, there were three cars on the driveway outside the large home in a secluded cul-de-sac. Hogg appears to have spent much of the past month playing golf at clubs across Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. He and his wife also go online to boast of their holidays to Portugal and Australia. ‘Holidays, bar, golf and no diet!, he wrote during one of his travels. The couple, who have two children, started B2C Data just three months after his previous data company Unique Prospects was dissolved. He said he has also shut another firm down in the past after ‘certain allegations’, before insisting ‘that wasn’t my company by the way’. When approached by the Mail about B2C’s activities, Hogg said: ‘We are a member of the ICO [Information Commissioner’s Office], and DMA [Direct Marketing Association]. We do everything correctly.’ When told his employees had offered to sell his company’s data off the books and that Doran is a convicted fraudster, he added: ‘You’ve just made me aware of two things that I need to go and talk to people about.’ He described B2C Data as ‘a legitimate business’ working within the law. Cold callers use a wide range of tricks to obtain people's personal data (picture posed by model) Will writing: Pensioners are often targeted by callers who offer will writing advice on the cheap. This is often a ploy to gain your trust and access as many personal details – including about your finances – as possible. The firms then try to sell high risk investments as ‘add-ons’. Charity surveys: A homeowner is called and asked to complete a survey for charity. They are told if they answer a certain number of questions, a pre-selected charity will be paid £10 or so – so many kind-hearted people naturally agree. However, all the answers are collated and sold on. ‘Validating’ your details: Marketing firms will call customers of a major brand and claim they need to ‘validate’ the details they hold. After asking the customer to confirm their name, address and phone number, however, many will go on to try to get you to complete a ‘lifestyle survey’. These questions are, in fact, sponsored by various other companies and details are sold on. Soft questions: Watch out for surveys starting with ‘easy’ questions. One firm admitted it starts surveys with questions anyone would answer – like do you have a television? Only later do the questions become more intrusive – about your earnings and the worth of your home. Computer updates: Scammers try to hack into PCs by pretending to be from Microsoft. Following their ‘updating’ instructions can allow them to take control of the computer remotely and capture personal data. No call lists: The telephone preference list, which should block cold callers, is a free service. Some firms will, however, try to charge you as much as £1.60 a month. Shares: With your financial details on file, some cold calling firms are able to see which companies you have shares in. As a result, scammers can pretend to be calling from the companies you have invested in and try to convince the homeowner to pass on more financial details. Prizes: Once they have your details, scammers are able to send you misleading letters saying you have won large cash prizes. There are often hidden costs in claiming this supposed prize, like making you call premium rate phone numbers.
|
Dataset: ccdv/cnn_dailymail/3.0.0/validation
| 8.1
| 103.693229
| 1,472
| 61.522965
| 0.524752
| 0.703096
| 0.974144
| 0.735696
| 0.000493
| 4.094777
| null | -0.143097
| -0.18768
| -0.592871
| null | 0.559999
| 0.786464
| 0.142825
|
1,018
| 364
|
Life in the fast lane: B2C's Nick Sayer on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson . The data Del Boy . Posing on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson, Nick Sayer soaks up the winter sun outside his holiday home in Florida. It is one of several shots of motorbikes, supercars and lavish holidays he has posted online in recent years…to the delight of his friends. For while pensioners are targeted every day by cold callers, the man who sold their personal data is apparently relishing the spoils. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information. The 45-year-old father-of-two says he carries out his business from a ‘man cave’ in the garden of his home in Kent. He began his working life as a diver on oil rigs in Azerbaijan, before, he claims, he was set up in business by a Greek shipping billionaire. They ran a commercial diving company before he decided to make money for himself by selling personal data with a series of companies, most of which have been dissolved or liquidated. ‘For years I was called “oh, you’re just a Del Boy”,’ he said. ‘I work from home, I’ve got a little log cabin thing out in me garden, that’s where I kind of base me-self. ‘I don’t like being in the house, I just go out there. It’s a bit of a man cave really.’ While his garden office may be modest, Sayer’s other tastes are much more ostentatious. His Facebook page shows off images of nine sports cars as well as pictures of him skiing in Banff, Canada. Scroll down for video . The British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car which he pictures on a drive on his profile costs up to £50,000 and boasts a top speed of 180mph. The Harley-Davidson Road King motorbike he is seen on in one image costs £17,595 new. Sayer regularly holidays with his family at his villa in Kissimmee, Florida, which they rent out for £600 a week. The home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms, all ‘fitted with luxury furnishings’. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy and owns a five-bedroom holiday home in Florida (pictured) – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information . Luxury: Sayer's Flordia home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms . The fake cash fraudster . Also trading in people’s personal information for B2C is convicted fraudster Gary Doran, 36, who wanted the Mail’s undercover team to pay Sayer off the books. The Mancunian, who now lives in Marbella, was jailed for six months for fraud in 2004 for trying to use two fake £10 notes to buy vodka. A 23-year-old student at Manchester Metropolitan University at the time, he tried to buy drink with the fake money at the Queen of Hearts pub in Fallowfield. The barmaid rejected the notes and the police were called, later finding him with 15 other fake bank notes. After serving time in jail, he has since run several failing businesses with his father and brother from their family home in Manchester. Most recently, as sales director of B2C Data, he asked an undercover reporter from the Mail to buy data off the books as a ‘favour to a friend’. He wanted the money to be paid directly into Sayer’s personal account, as a way of avoiding tax. Sporting life: The 180mph British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car on the Sayer's Facebook page . Jet-setting boss who said he knew nothing . B2C owner Stephen Hogg insists his firm ‘do everything completely, totally and utterly by the book’. The jet-setting golfer was, however, completely oblivious to his staff offering to sell data tax free through their own accounts. He even had no idea Doran had previously served time for fraud. The 46-year-old lives with his wife Sarah, 43, and their children in a £400,000 five-bedroom house in Rushden, Northamptonshire. Last week, there were three cars on the driveway outside the large home in a secluded cul-de-sac. Hogg appears to have spent much of the past month playing golf at clubs across Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. He and his wife also go online to boast of their holidays to Portugal and Australia. ‘Holidays, bar, golf and no diet!, he wrote during one of his travels. The couple, who have two children, started B2C Data just three months after his previous data company Unique Prospects was dissolved. He said he has also shut another firm down in the past after ‘certain allegations’, before insisting ‘that wasn’t my company by the way’. When approached by the Mail about B2C’s activities, Hogg said: ‘We are a member of the ICO [Information Commissioner’s Office], and DMA [Direct Marketing Association]. We do everything correctly.’ When told his employees had offered to sell his company’s data off the books and that Doran is a convicted fraudster, he added: ‘You’ve just made me aware of two things that I need to go and talk to people about.’ He described B2C Data as ‘a legitimate business’ working within the law. Cold callers use a wide range of tricks to obtain people's personal data (picture posed by model) Will writing: Pensioners are often targeted by callers who offer will writing advice on the cheap. This is often a ploy to gain your trust and access as many personal details – including about your finances – as possible. The firms then try to sell high risk investments as ‘add-ons’. Charity surveys: A homeowner is called and asked to complete a survey for charity. They are told if they answer a certain number of questions, a pre-selected charity will be paid £10 or so – so many kind-hearted people naturally agree. However, all the answers are collated and sold on. ‘Validating’ your details: Marketing firms will call customers of a major brand and claim they need to ‘validate’ the details they hold. After asking the customer to confirm their name, address and phone number, however, many will go on to try to get you to complete a ‘lifestyle survey’. These questions are, in fact, sponsored by various other companies and details are sold on. Soft questions: Watch out for surveys starting with ‘easy’ questions. One firm admitted it starts surveys with questions anyone would answer – like do you have a television? Only later do the questions become more intrusive – about your earnings and the worth of your home. Computer updates: Scammers try to hack into PCs by pretending to be from Microsoft. Following their ‘updating’ instructions can allow them to take control of the computer remotely and capture personal data. No call lists: The telephone preference list, which should block cold callers, is a free service. Some firms will, however, try to charge you as much as £1.60 a month. Shares: With your financial details on file, some cold calling firms are able to see which companies you have shares in. As a result, scammers can pretend to be calling from the companies you have invested in and try to convince the homeowner to pass on more financial details. Prizes: Once they have your details, scammers are able to send you misleading letters saying you have won large cash prizes. There are often hidden costs in claiming this supposed prize, like making you call premium rate phone numbers.
|
Dataset: ccdv/cnn_dailymail/3.0.0/validation
| 8.1
| 103.693229
| 1,472
| 61.522965
| 0.524752
| 0.703096
| 0.974144
| 0.735696
| 0.000493
| 4.094777
| null | -0.693618
| -0.642944
| -0.658566
| null | 0.009478
| 0.3312
| 0.07713
|
1,019
| 364
|
Life in the fast lane: B2C's Nick Sayer on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson . The data Del Boy . Posing on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson, Nick Sayer soaks up the winter sun outside his holiday home in Florida. It is one of several shots of motorbikes, supercars and lavish holidays he has posted online in recent years…to the delight of his friends. For while pensioners are targeted every day by cold callers, the man who sold their personal data is apparently relishing the spoils. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information. The 45-year-old father-of-two says he carries out his business from a ‘man cave’ in the garden of his home in Kent. He began his working life as a diver on oil rigs in Azerbaijan, before, he claims, he was set up in business by a Greek shipping billionaire. They ran a commercial diving company before he decided to make money for himself by selling personal data with a series of companies, most of which have been dissolved or liquidated. ‘For years I was called “oh, you’re just a Del Boy”,’ he said. ‘I work from home, I’ve got a little log cabin thing out in me garden, that’s where I kind of base me-self. ‘I don’t like being in the house, I just go out there. It’s a bit of a man cave really.’ While his garden office may be modest, Sayer’s other tastes are much more ostentatious. His Facebook page shows off images of nine sports cars as well as pictures of him skiing in Banff, Canada. Scroll down for video . The British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car which he pictures on a drive on his profile costs up to £50,000 and boasts a top speed of 180mph. The Harley-Davidson Road King motorbike he is seen on in one image costs £17,595 new. Sayer regularly holidays with his family at his villa in Kissimmee, Florida, which they rent out for £600 a week. The home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms, all ‘fitted with luxury furnishings’. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy and owns a five-bedroom holiday home in Florida (pictured) – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information . Luxury: Sayer's Flordia home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms . The fake cash fraudster . Also trading in people’s personal information for B2C is convicted fraudster Gary Doran, 36, who wanted the Mail’s undercover team to pay Sayer off the books. The Mancunian, who now lives in Marbella, was jailed for six months for fraud in 2004 for trying to use two fake £10 notes to buy vodka. A 23-year-old student at Manchester Metropolitan University at the time, he tried to buy drink with the fake money at the Queen of Hearts pub in Fallowfield. The barmaid rejected the notes and the police were called, later finding him with 15 other fake bank notes. After serving time in jail, he has since run several failing businesses with his father and brother from their family home in Manchester. Most recently, as sales director of B2C Data, he asked an undercover reporter from the Mail to buy data off the books as a ‘favour to a friend’. He wanted the money to be paid directly into Sayer’s personal account, as a way of avoiding tax. Sporting life: The 180mph British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car on the Sayer's Facebook page . Jet-setting boss who said he knew nothing . B2C owner Stephen Hogg insists his firm ‘do everything completely, totally and utterly by the book’. The jet-setting golfer was, however, completely oblivious to his staff offering to sell data tax free through their own accounts. He even had no idea Doran had previously served time for fraud. The 46-year-old lives with his wife Sarah, 43, and their children in a £400,000 five-bedroom house in Rushden, Northamptonshire. Last week, there were three cars on the driveway outside the large home in a secluded cul-de-sac. Hogg appears to have spent much of the past month playing golf at clubs across Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. He and his wife also go online to boast of their holidays to Portugal and Australia. ‘Holidays, bar, golf and no diet!, he wrote during one of his travels. The couple, who have two children, started B2C Data just three months after his previous data company Unique Prospects was dissolved. He said he has also shut another firm down in the past after ‘certain allegations’, before insisting ‘that wasn’t my company by the way’. When approached by the Mail about B2C’s activities, Hogg said: ‘We are a member of the ICO [Information Commissioner’s Office], and DMA [Direct Marketing Association]. We do everything correctly.’ When told his employees had offered to sell his company’s data off the books and that Doran is a convicted fraudster, he added: ‘You’ve just made me aware of two things that I need to go and talk to people about.’ He described B2C Data as ‘a legitimate business’ working within the law. Cold callers use a wide range of tricks to obtain people's personal data (picture posed by model) Will writing: Pensioners are often targeted by callers who offer will writing advice on the cheap. This is often a ploy to gain your trust and access as many personal details – including about your finances – as possible. The firms then try to sell high risk investments as ‘add-ons’. Charity surveys: A homeowner is called and asked to complete a survey for charity. They are told if they answer a certain number of questions, a pre-selected charity will be paid £10 or so – so many kind-hearted people naturally agree. However, all the answers are collated and sold on. ‘Validating’ your details: Marketing firms will call customers of a major brand and claim they need to ‘validate’ the details they hold. After asking the customer to confirm their name, address and phone number, however, many will go on to try to get you to complete a ‘lifestyle survey’. These questions are, in fact, sponsored by various other companies and details are sold on. Soft questions: Watch out for surveys starting with ‘easy’ questions. One firm admitted it starts surveys with questions anyone would answer – like do you have a television? Only later do the questions become more intrusive – about your earnings and the worth of your home. Computer updates: Scammers try to hack into PCs by pretending to be from Microsoft. Following their ‘updating’ instructions can allow them to take control of the computer remotely and capture personal data. No call lists: The telephone preference list, which should block cold callers, is a free service. Some firms will, however, try to charge you as much as £1.60 a month. Shares: With your financial details on file, some cold calling firms are able to see which companies you have shares in. As a result, scammers can pretend to be calling from the companies you have invested in and try to convince the homeowner to pass on more financial details. Prizes: Once they have your details, scammers are able to send you misleading letters saying you have won large cash prizes. There are often hidden costs in claiming this supposed prize, like making you call premium rate phone numbers.
|
Dataset: ccdv/cnn_dailymail/3.0.0/validation
| 8.1
| 103.693229
| 1,472
| 61.522965
| 0.524752
| 0.703096
| 0.974144
| 0.735696
| 0.000493
| 4.094777
| 0.25563
| -0.635403
| -0.270128
| null | 0.780382
| 0.067693
| 0.704016
| null |
1,020
| 364
|
Life in the fast lane: B2C's Nick Sayer on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson . The data Del Boy . Posing on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson, Nick Sayer soaks up the winter sun outside his holiday home in Florida. It is one of several shots of motorbikes, supercars and lavish holidays he has posted online in recent years…to the delight of his friends. For while pensioners are targeted every day by cold callers, the man who sold their personal data is apparently relishing the spoils. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information. The 45-year-old father-of-two says he carries out his business from a ‘man cave’ in the garden of his home in Kent. He began his working life as a diver on oil rigs in Azerbaijan, before, he claims, he was set up in business by a Greek shipping billionaire. They ran a commercial diving company before he decided to make money for himself by selling personal data with a series of companies, most of which have been dissolved or liquidated. ‘For years I was called “oh, you’re just a Del Boy”,’ he said. ‘I work from home, I’ve got a little log cabin thing out in me garden, that’s where I kind of base me-self. ‘I don’t like being in the house, I just go out there. It’s a bit of a man cave really.’ While his garden office may be modest, Sayer’s other tastes are much more ostentatious. His Facebook page shows off images of nine sports cars as well as pictures of him skiing in Banff, Canada. Scroll down for video . The British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car which he pictures on a drive on his profile costs up to £50,000 and boasts a top speed of 180mph. The Harley-Davidson Road King motorbike he is seen on in one image costs £17,595 new. Sayer regularly holidays with his family at his villa in Kissimmee, Florida, which they rent out for £600 a week. The home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms, all ‘fitted with luxury furnishings’. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy and owns a five-bedroom holiday home in Florida (pictured) – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information . Luxury: Sayer's Flordia home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms . The fake cash fraudster . Also trading in people’s personal information for B2C is convicted fraudster Gary Doran, 36, who wanted the Mail’s undercover team to pay Sayer off the books. The Mancunian, who now lives in Marbella, was jailed for six months for fraud in 2004 for trying to use two fake £10 notes to buy vodka. A 23-year-old student at Manchester Metropolitan University at the time, he tried to buy drink with the fake money at the Queen of Hearts pub in Fallowfield. The barmaid rejected the notes and the police were called, later finding him with 15 other fake bank notes. After serving time in jail, he has since run several failing businesses with his father and brother from their family home in Manchester. Most recently, as sales director of B2C Data, he asked an undercover reporter from the Mail to buy data off the books as a ‘favour to a friend’. He wanted the money to be paid directly into Sayer’s personal account, as a way of avoiding tax. Sporting life: The 180mph British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car on the Sayer's Facebook page . Jet-setting boss who said he knew nothing . B2C owner Stephen Hogg insists his firm ‘do everything completely, totally and utterly by the book’. The jet-setting golfer was, however, completely oblivious to his staff offering to sell data tax free through their own accounts. He even had no idea Doran had previously served time for fraud. The 46-year-old lives with his wife Sarah, 43, and their children in a £400,000 five-bedroom house in Rushden, Northamptonshire. Last week, there were three cars on the driveway outside the large home in a secluded cul-de-sac. Hogg appears to have spent much of the past month playing golf at clubs across Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. He and his wife also go online to boast of their holidays to Portugal and Australia. ‘Holidays, bar, golf and no diet!, he wrote during one of his travels. The couple, who have two children, started B2C Data just three months after his previous data company Unique Prospects was dissolved. He said he has also shut another firm down in the past after ‘certain allegations’, before insisting ‘that wasn’t my company by the way’. When approached by the Mail about B2C’s activities, Hogg said: ‘We are a member of the ICO [Information Commissioner’s Office], and DMA [Direct Marketing Association]. We do everything correctly.’ When told his employees had offered to sell his company’s data off the books and that Doran is a convicted fraudster, he added: ‘You’ve just made me aware of two things that I need to go and talk to people about.’ He described B2C Data as ‘a legitimate business’ working within the law. Cold callers use a wide range of tricks to obtain people's personal data (picture posed by model) Will writing: Pensioners are often targeted by callers who offer will writing advice on the cheap. This is often a ploy to gain your trust and access as many personal details – including about your finances – as possible. The firms then try to sell high risk investments as ‘add-ons’. Charity surveys: A homeowner is called and asked to complete a survey for charity. They are told if they answer a certain number of questions, a pre-selected charity will be paid £10 or so – so many kind-hearted people naturally agree. However, all the answers are collated and sold on. ‘Validating’ your details: Marketing firms will call customers of a major brand and claim they need to ‘validate’ the details they hold. After asking the customer to confirm their name, address and phone number, however, many will go on to try to get you to complete a ‘lifestyle survey’. These questions are, in fact, sponsored by various other companies and details are sold on. Soft questions: Watch out for surveys starting with ‘easy’ questions. One firm admitted it starts surveys with questions anyone would answer – like do you have a television? Only later do the questions become more intrusive – about your earnings and the worth of your home. Computer updates: Scammers try to hack into PCs by pretending to be from Microsoft. Following their ‘updating’ instructions can allow them to take control of the computer remotely and capture personal data. No call lists: The telephone preference list, which should block cold callers, is a free service. Some firms will, however, try to charge you as much as £1.60 a month. Shares: With your financial details on file, some cold calling firms are able to see which companies you have shares in. As a result, scammers can pretend to be calling from the companies you have invested in and try to convince the homeowner to pass on more financial details. Prizes: Once they have your details, scammers are able to send you misleading letters saying you have won large cash prizes. There are often hidden costs in claiming this supposed prize, like making you call premium rate phone numbers.
|
Dataset: ccdv/cnn_dailymail/3.0.0/validation
| 8.1
| 103.693229
| 1,472
| 61.522965
| 0.524752
| 0.703096
| 0.974144
| 0.735696
| 0.000493
| 4.094777
| 0.377418
| 0.148002
| -0.125302
| null | 0.90217
| 0.851099
| 0.848842
| null |
1,021
| 364
|
Life in the fast lane: B2C's Nick Sayer on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson . The data Del Boy . Posing on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson, Nick Sayer soaks up the winter sun outside his holiday home in Florida. It is one of several shots of motorbikes, supercars and lavish holidays he has posted online in recent years…to the delight of his friends. For while pensioners are targeted every day by cold callers, the man who sold their personal data is apparently relishing the spoils. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information. The 45-year-old father-of-two says he carries out his business from a ‘man cave’ in the garden of his home in Kent. He began his working life as a diver on oil rigs in Azerbaijan, before, he claims, he was set up in business by a Greek shipping billionaire. They ran a commercial diving company before he decided to make money for himself by selling personal data with a series of companies, most of which have been dissolved or liquidated. ‘For years I was called “oh, you’re just a Del Boy”,’ he said. ‘I work from home, I’ve got a little log cabin thing out in me garden, that’s where I kind of base me-self. ‘I don’t like being in the house, I just go out there. It’s a bit of a man cave really.’ While his garden office may be modest, Sayer’s other tastes are much more ostentatious. His Facebook page shows off images of nine sports cars as well as pictures of him skiing in Banff, Canada. Scroll down for video . The British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car which he pictures on a drive on his profile costs up to £50,000 and boasts a top speed of 180mph. The Harley-Davidson Road King motorbike he is seen on in one image costs £17,595 new. Sayer regularly holidays with his family at his villa in Kissimmee, Florida, which they rent out for £600 a week. The home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms, all ‘fitted with luxury furnishings’. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy and owns a five-bedroom holiday home in Florida (pictured) – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information . Luxury: Sayer's Flordia home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms . The fake cash fraudster . Also trading in people’s personal information for B2C is convicted fraudster Gary Doran, 36, who wanted the Mail’s undercover team to pay Sayer off the books. The Mancunian, who now lives in Marbella, was jailed for six months for fraud in 2004 for trying to use two fake £10 notes to buy vodka. A 23-year-old student at Manchester Metropolitan University at the time, he tried to buy drink with the fake money at the Queen of Hearts pub in Fallowfield. The barmaid rejected the notes and the police were called, later finding him with 15 other fake bank notes. After serving time in jail, he has since run several failing businesses with his father and brother from their family home in Manchester. Most recently, as sales director of B2C Data, he asked an undercover reporter from the Mail to buy data off the books as a ‘favour to a friend’. He wanted the money to be paid directly into Sayer’s personal account, as a way of avoiding tax. Sporting life: The 180mph British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car on the Sayer's Facebook page . Jet-setting boss who said he knew nothing . B2C owner Stephen Hogg insists his firm ‘do everything completely, totally and utterly by the book’. The jet-setting golfer was, however, completely oblivious to his staff offering to sell data tax free through their own accounts. He even had no idea Doran had previously served time for fraud. The 46-year-old lives with his wife Sarah, 43, and their children in a £400,000 five-bedroom house in Rushden, Northamptonshire. Last week, there were three cars on the driveway outside the large home in a secluded cul-de-sac. Hogg appears to have spent much of the past month playing golf at clubs across Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. He and his wife also go online to boast of their holidays to Portugal and Australia. ‘Holidays, bar, golf and no diet!, he wrote during one of his travels. The couple, who have two children, started B2C Data just three months after his previous data company Unique Prospects was dissolved. He said he has also shut another firm down in the past after ‘certain allegations’, before insisting ‘that wasn’t my company by the way’. When approached by the Mail about B2C’s activities, Hogg said: ‘We are a member of the ICO [Information Commissioner’s Office], and DMA [Direct Marketing Association]. We do everything correctly.’ When told his employees had offered to sell his company’s data off the books and that Doran is a convicted fraudster, he added: ‘You’ve just made me aware of two things that I need to go and talk to people about.’ He described B2C Data as ‘a legitimate business’ working within the law. Cold callers use a wide range of tricks to obtain people's personal data (picture posed by model) Will writing: Pensioners are often targeted by callers who offer will writing advice on the cheap. This is often a ploy to gain your trust and access as many personal details – including about your finances – as possible. The firms then try to sell high risk investments as ‘add-ons’. Charity surveys: A homeowner is called and asked to complete a survey for charity. They are told if they answer a certain number of questions, a pre-selected charity will be paid £10 or so – so many kind-hearted people naturally agree. However, all the answers are collated and sold on. ‘Validating’ your details: Marketing firms will call customers of a major brand and claim they need to ‘validate’ the details they hold. After asking the customer to confirm their name, address and phone number, however, many will go on to try to get you to complete a ‘lifestyle survey’. These questions are, in fact, sponsored by various other companies and details are sold on. Soft questions: Watch out for surveys starting with ‘easy’ questions. One firm admitted it starts surveys with questions anyone would answer – like do you have a television? Only later do the questions become more intrusive – about your earnings and the worth of your home. Computer updates: Scammers try to hack into PCs by pretending to be from Microsoft. Following their ‘updating’ instructions can allow them to take control of the computer remotely and capture personal data. No call lists: The telephone preference list, which should block cold callers, is a free service. Some firms will, however, try to charge you as much as £1.60 a month. Shares: With your financial details on file, some cold calling firms are able to see which companies you have shares in. As a result, scammers can pretend to be calling from the companies you have invested in and try to convince the homeowner to pass on more financial details. Prizes: Once they have your details, scammers are able to send you misleading letters saying you have won large cash prizes. There are often hidden costs in claiming this supposed prize, like making you call premium rate phone numbers.
|
Dataset: ccdv/cnn_dailymail/3.0.0/validation
| 8.1
| 103.693229
| 1,472
| 61.522965
| 0.524752
| 0.703096
| 0.974144
| 0.735696
| 0.000493
| 4.094777
| 0.421911
| 0.184335
| -0.283971
| null | 0.946664
| 0.887431
| 0.690173
| null |
1,022
| 364
|
Life in the fast lane: B2C's Nick Sayer on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson . The data Del Boy . Posing on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson, Nick Sayer soaks up the winter sun outside his holiday home in Florida. It is one of several shots of motorbikes, supercars and lavish holidays he has posted online in recent years…to the delight of his friends. For while pensioners are targeted every day by cold callers, the man who sold their personal data is apparently relishing the spoils. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information. The 45-year-old father-of-two says he carries out his business from a ‘man cave’ in the garden of his home in Kent. He began his working life as a diver on oil rigs in Azerbaijan, before, he claims, he was set up in business by a Greek shipping billionaire. They ran a commercial diving company before he decided to make money for himself by selling personal data with a series of companies, most of which have been dissolved or liquidated. ‘For years I was called “oh, you’re just a Del Boy”,’ he said. ‘I work from home, I’ve got a little log cabin thing out in me garden, that’s where I kind of base me-self. ‘I don’t like being in the house, I just go out there. It’s a bit of a man cave really.’ While his garden office may be modest, Sayer’s other tastes are much more ostentatious. His Facebook page shows off images of nine sports cars as well as pictures of him skiing in Banff, Canada. Scroll down for video . The British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car which he pictures on a drive on his profile costs up to £50,000 and boasts a top speed of 180mph. The Harley-Davidson Road King motorbike he is seen on in one image costs £17,595 new. Sayer regularly holidays with his family at his villa in Kissimmee, Florida, which they rent out for £600 a week. The home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms, all ‘fitted with luxury furnishings’. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy and owns a five-bedroom holiday home in Florida (pictured) – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information . Luxury: Sayer's Flordia home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms . The fake cash fraudster . Also trading in people’s personal information for B2C is convicted fraudster Gary Doran, 36, who wanted the Mail’s undercover team to pay Sayer off the books. The Mancunian, who now lives in Marbella, was jailed for six months for fraud in 2004 for trying to use two fake £10 notes to buy vodka. A 23-year-old student at Manchester Metropolitan University at the time, he tried to buy drink with the fake money at the Queen of Hearts pub in Fallowfield. The barmaid rejected the notes and the police were called, later finding him with 15 other fake bank notes. After serving time in jail, he has since run several failing businesses with his father and brother from their family home in Manchester. Most recently, as sales director of B2C Data, he asked an undercover reporter from the Mail to buy data off the books as a ‘favour to a friend’. He wanted the money to be paid directly into Sayer’s personal account, as a way of avoiding tax. Sporting life: The 180mph British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car on the Sayer's Facebook page . Jet-setting boss who said he knew nothing . B2C owner Stephen Hogg insists his firm ‘do everything completely, totally and utterly by the book’. The jet-setting golfer was, however, completely oblivious to his staff offering to sell data tax free through their own accounts. He even had no idea Doran had previously served time for fraud. The 46-year-old lives with his wife Sarah, 43, and their children in a £400,000 five-bedroom house in Rushden, Northamptonshire. Last week, there were three cars on the driveway outside the large home in a secluded cul-de-sac. Hogg appears to have spent much of the past month playing golf at clubs across Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. He and his wife also go online to boast of their holidays to Portugal and Australia. ‘Holidays, bar, golf and no diet!, he wrote during one of his travels. The couple, who have two children, started B2C Data just three months after his previous data company Unique Prospects was dissolved. He said he has also shut another firm down in the past after ‘certain allegations’, before insisting ‘that wasn’t my company by the way’. When approached by the Mail about B2C’s activities, Hogg said: ‘We are a member of the ICO [Information Commissioner’s Office], and DMA [Direct Marketing Association]. We do everything correctly.’ When told his employees had offered to sell his company’s data off the books and that Doran is a convicted fraudster, he added: ‘You’ve just made me aware of two things that I need to go and talk to people about.’ He described B2C Data as ‘a legitimate business’ working within the law. Cold callers use a wide range of tricks to obtain people's personal data (picture posed by model) Will writing: Pensioners are often targeted by callers who offer will writing advice on the cheap. This is often a ploy to gain your trust and access as many personal details – including about your finances – as possible. The firms then try to sell high risk investments as ‘add-ons’. Charity surveys: A homeowner is called and asked to complete a survey for charity. They are told if they answer a certain number of questions, a pre-selected charity will be paid £10 or so – so many kind-hearted people naturally agree. However, all the answers are collated and sold on. ‘Validating’ your details: Marketing firms will call customers of a major brand and claim they need to ‘validate’ the details they hold. After asking the customer to confirm their name, address and phone number, however, many will go on to try to get you to complete a ‘lifestyle survey’. These questions are, in fact, sponsored by various other companies and details are sold on. Soft questions: Watch out for surveys starting with ‘easy’ questions. One firm admitted it starts surveys with questions anyone would answer – like do you have a television? Only later do the questions become more intrusive – about your earnings and the worth of your home. Computer updates: Scammers try to hack into PCs by pretending to be from Microsoft. Following their ‘updating’ instructions can allow them to take control of the computer remotely and capture personal data. No call lists: The telephone preference list, which should block cold callers, is a free service. Some firms will, however, try to charge you as much as £1.60 a month. Shares: With your financial details on file, some cold calling firms are able to see which companies you have shares in. As a result, scammers can pretend to be calling from the companies you have invested in and try to convince the homeowner to pass on more financial details. Prizes: Once they have your details, scammers are able to send you misleading letters saying you have won large cash prizes. There are often hidden costs in claiming this supposed prize, like making you call premium rate phone numbers.
|
Dataset: ccdv/cnn_dailymail/3.0.0/validation
| 8.1
| 103.693229
| 1,472
| 61.522965
| 0.524752
| 0.703096
| 0.974144
| 0.735696
| 0.000493
| 4.094777
| -0.307386
| -0.530477
| -0.337849
| null | 0.217366
| 0.172619
| 0.636295
| null |
1,023
| 364
|
Life in the fast lane: B2C's Nick Sayer on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson . The data Del Boy . Posing on a £17,000 Harley-Davidson, Nick Sayer soaks up the winter sun outside his holiday home in Florida. It is one of several shots of motorbikes, supercars and lavish holidays he has posted online in recent years…to the delight of his friends. For while pensioners are targeted every day by cold callers, the man who sold their personal data is apparently relishing the spoils. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information. The 45-year-old father-of-two says he carries out his business from a ‘man cave’ in the garden of his home in Kent. He began his working life as a diver on oil rigs in Azerbaijan, before, he claims, he was set up in business by a Greek shipping billionaire. They ran a commercial diving company before he decided to make money for himself by selling personal data with a series of companies, most of which have been dissolved or liquidated. ‘For years I was called “oh, you’re just a Del Boy”,’ he said. ‘I work from home, I’ve got a little log cabin thing out in me garden, that’s where I kind of base me-self. ‘I don’t like being in the house, I just go out there. It’s a bit of a man cave really.’ While his garden office may be modest, Sayer’s other tastes are much more ostentatious. His Facebook page shows off images of nine sports cars as well as pictures of him skiing in Banff, Canada. Scroll down for video . The British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car which he pictures on a drive on his profile costs up to £50,000 and boasts a top speed of 180mph. The Harley-Davidson Road King motorbike he is seen on in one image costs £17,595 new. Sayer regularly holidays with his family at his villa in Kissimmee, Florida, which they rent out for £600 a week. The home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms, all ‘fitted with luxury furnishings’. B2C director Sayer – who is nicknamed Del Boy and owns a five-bedroom holiday home in Florida (pictured) – is among a group of bosses at the firm who have got rich quick by selling people’s most personal information . Luxury: Sayer's Flordia home has a games room, swimming pool and spa, five bedrooms and four bathrooms . The fake cash fraudster . Also trading in people’s personal information for B2C is convicted fraudster Gary Doran, 36, who wanted the Mail’s undercover team to pay Sayer off the books. The Mancunian, who now lives in Marbella, was jailed for six months for fraud in 2004 for trying to use two fake £10 notes to buy vodka. A 23-year-old student at Manchester Metropolitan University at the time, he tried to buy drink with the fake money at the Queen of Hearts pub in Fallowfield. The barmaid rejected the notes and the police were called, later finding him with 15 other fake bank notes. After serving time in jail, he has since run several failing businesses with his father and brother from their family home in Manchester. Most recently, as sales director of B2C Data, he asked an undercover reporter from the Mail to buy data off the books as a ‘favour to a friend’. He wanted the money to be paid directly into Sayer’s personal account, as a way of avoiding tax. Sporting life: The 180mph British-built TVR Tuscan Speed Six sports car on the Sayer's Facebook page . Jet-setting boss who said he knew nothing . B2C owner Stephen Hogg insists his firm ‘do everything completely, totally and utterly by the book’. The jet-setting golfer was, however, completely oblivious to his staff offering to sell data tax free through their own accounts. He even had no idea Doran had previously served time for fraud. The 46-year-old lives with his wife Sarah, 43, and their children in a £400,000 five-bedroom house in Rushden, Northamptonshire. Last week, there were three cars on the driveway outside the large home in a secluded cul-de-sac. Hogg appears to have spent much of the past month playing golf at clubs across Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. He and his wife also go online to boast of their holidays to Portugal and Australia. ‘Holidays, bar, golf and no diet!, he wrote during one of his travels. The couple, who have two children, started B2C Data just three months after his previous data company Unique Prospects was dissolved. He said he has also shut another firm down in the past after ‘certain allegations’, before insisting ‘that wasn’t my company by the way’. When approached by the Mail about B2C’s activities, Hogg said: ‘We are a member of the ICO [Information Commissioner’s Office], and DMA [Direct Marketing Association]. We do everything correctly.’ When told his employees had offered to sell his company’s data off the books and that Doran is a convicted fraudster, he added: ‘You’ve just made me aware of two things that I need to go and talk to people about.’ He described B2C Data as ‘a legitimate business’ working within the law. Cold callers use a wide range of tricks to obtain people's personal data (picture posed by model) Will writing: Pensioners are often targeted by callers who offer will writing advice on the cheap. This is often a ploy to gain your trust and access as many personal details – including about your finances – as possible. The firms then try to sell high risk investments as ‘add-ons’. Charity surveys: A homeowner is called and asked to complete a survey for charity. They are told if they answer a certain number of questions, a pre-selected charity will be paid £10 or so – so many kind-hearted people naturally agree. However, all the answers are collated and sold on. ‘Validating’ your details: Marketing firms will call customers of a major brand and claim they need to ‘validate’ the details they hold. After asking the customer to confirm their name, address and phone number, however, many will go on to try to get you to complete a ‘lifestyle survey’. These questions are, in fact, sponsored by various other companies and details are sold on. Soft questions: Watch out for surveys starting with ‘easy’ questions. One firm admitted it starts surveys with questions anyone would answer – like do you have a television? Only later do the questions become more intrusive – about your earnings and the worth of your home. Computer updates: Scammers try to hack into PCs by pretending to be from Microsoft. Following their ‘updating’ instructions can allow them to take control of the computer remotely and capture personal data. No call lists: The telephone preference list, which should block cold callers, is a free service. Some firms will, however, try to charge you as much as £1.60 a month. Shares: With your financial details on file, some cold calling firms are able to see which companies you have shares in. As a result, scammers can pretend to be calling from the companies you have invested in and try to convince the homeowner to pass on more financial details. Prizes: Once they have your details, scammers are able to send you misleading letters saying you have won large cash prizes. There are often hidden costs in claiming this supposed prize, like making you call premium rate phone numbers.
|
Dataset: ccdv/cnn_dailymail/3.0.0/validation
| 8.1
| 103.693229
| 1,472
| 61.522965
| 0.524752
| 0.703096
| 0.974144
| 0.735696
| 0.000493
| 4.094777
| 0.368912
| null | -0.457084
| -0.312994
| 0.893664
| null | 0.51706
| 0.422702
|
1,024
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| 0.501966
| -0.373379
| 0.381781
| null | 0.977213
| 0.220991
| 0.833913
| null |
1,025
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| 0.269921
| -0.391478
| 0.454855
| null | 0.745168
| 0.202893
| 0.906987
| null |
1,026
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| -0.326501
| null | 0.142948
| 0.507546
| 0.148747
| null | 0.595079
| 0.969282
|
1,027
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| 0.340466
| -0.203723
| null | 0.177679
| 0.815714
| 0.390648
| null | 0.639415
|
1,028
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| 0.323441
| 0.232772
| null | 0.315192
| 0.798689
| 0.827143
| null | 0.776927
|
1,029
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| 0.250983
| null | 0.492741
| 0.369768
| 0.726231
| null | 0.944872
| 0.831503
|
1,030
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| 0.303468
| null | 0.424641
| -0.119731
| 0.778716
| null | 0.876772
| 0.342005
|
1,031
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| -0.257455
| null | 0.416617
| -0.342829
| 0.217792
| null | 0.868748
| 0.118907
|
1,032
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| -0.110321
| -0.200485
| -0.422828
| null | 0.364927
| 0.393886
| 0.029304
| null |
1,033
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| 0.386146
| 0.270243
| null | 0.438182
| 0.861394
| 0.864614
| null | 0.899918
|
1,034
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| 0.342179
| -0.260045
| null | 0.507332
| 0.817426
| 0.334326
| null | 0.969068
|
1,035
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| -0.108072
| -0.403629
| 0.501322
| null | 0.367176
| 0.190742
| 0.953453
| null |
1,036
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| -0.391035
| -0.136224
| null | 0.422736
| 0.084212
| 0.458146
| null | 0.884471
|
1,037
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| 0.149309
| -0.390185
| 0.288384
| null | 0.624556
| 0.204186
| 0.740515
| null |
1,038
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| -0.288812
| -0.135468
| 0.405097
| null | 0.186436
| 0.458902
| 0.857228
| null |
1,039
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| null | -0.314702
| -0.217994
| -0.147665
| null | 0.279668
| 0.234137
| 0.31407
|
1,040
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| -0.201629
| 0.271421
| -0.232293
| null | 0.273618
| 0.865791
| 0.219838
| null |
1,041
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| -0.4
| 0.366746
| 0.245722
| null | 0.075248
| 0.961117
| 0.697853
| null |
1,042
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| -0.236816
| null | -0.273109
| 0.484293
| 0.238431
| null | 0.179023
| 0.946029
|
1,043
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| 0.115236
| 0.109988
| 0.335286
| null | 0.590484
| 0.704358
| 0.787418
| null |
1,044
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| 0.300834
| 0.146423
| 0.312396
| null | 0.776081
| 0.740794
| 0.764527
| null |
1,045
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| -0.168898
| -0.416705
| null | 0.224945
| 0.30635
| 0.177666
| null | 0.68668
|
1,046
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| -0.119766
| null | -0.41386
| 0.418402
| 0.355482
| null | 0.038271
| 0.880138
|
1,047
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| null | 0.315183
| 0.396218
| -0.162291
| null | 0.909554
| 0.848349
| 0.299445
|
1,048
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| null | 0.19351
| -0.208471
| -0.320904
| null | 0.78788
| 0.24366
| 0.140832
|
1,049
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| 0.353973
| null | 0.479422
| 0.410771
| 0.829221
| null | 0.931553
| 0.872506
|
1,050
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| null | 0.222885
| 0.452574
| 0.382862
| null | 0.817256
| 0.904705
| 0.844598
|
1,051
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| 0.206762
| -0.357712
| null | 0.410748
| 0.682009
| 0.236658
| null | 0.872483
|
1,052
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| 0.103056
| -0.563108
| null | -0.421258
| 0.578303
| 0.031263
| null | 0.040477
|
1,053
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| 0.465776
| 0.374934
| null | 0.279376
| 0.941024
| 0.969305
| null | 0.741112
|
1,054
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| null | 0.189243
| -0.174301
| 0.283105
| null | 0.783614
| 0.27783
| 0.74484
|
1,055
| 7,559
|
necessary this happened several years ago, only found this subreddit recently.
now, i'd always thought i've got along fine with kids, even when i was one myself. i can deal with teeny kids like a pro, and generally get along with cousins and friend's younger siblings/etc. of course, that all came to a flaming, screaming halt the day of the museum trip.
i was in my final year of highschool, only had several months left. everything was going swimmingly enough. we had an excursion coming up soon, sweet. day off to hang with friends at a museum.
then we found out the year 7's were also coming along, and several of us had been selected to essentially shepherd them around the exhibit, whilst giving them insight into the mystifying world of history.
now, some backstory. i have notoriously terrible spatial awareness, and coupled with my tendency for clumsiness, if there is something to accidentally fall on/over, i will *probably* be the person to do it. so i lived up to my reputation.
us seniors were paired up with groups of these small children, and seeing as it was the local museum, we pretty much knew the way to it from the buses. first few hundred meters was fine - the museum is in sight. then i realised i'd failed to introduce myself to the children i was supposed to be looking out for. if they got separated i'd have no idea how to find them again.
so, being the smart guy i was, i decided to walk backwards, keeping an eye on them as i introduced myself, and got them to say their names in turn. *great job, hanev, you're going great.* yeah, no.
i turned, on the realisation that walking backwards was a stupid plan, and that i'd probably trip over something, i caught the middle of my shin on the edge of a concrete block at a particularly fast walking-pace. now the thing about those blocks, is that they were the aesthetic-y sort with gravel/rock chips on the surface. those punctured my defenceless shin, and helpfully due to gravity and my own momentum, i then went toppling over.
apparently, i almost saved myself. almost. i then proceeded to completely lose my balance, tear the front of my shin open on the spiky concrete as it followed after me, stumble a step, and land with the brunt of the impact on the same leg's knee.
the ground happened to be made of a similar substance as the block of spikes, and i received a nasty injury to my knee as well. i scrambled up, thinking maybe i've just grazed something or-
nope. that's blood. starting to run down my leg.
i had enough composure to not swear before the small children. who were, as expected, laughing at me. trying to brush it off, i laughed too (reportedly a grimace) and hobbled onwards valiantly. by the time we had reached the museum entrance, i was shedding blood like no tomorrow. one of the teachers finally noticed, and gave me two normal band aids and some tissues for wounds roughly the size of my hand, each. alright, i'd have to improvise.
about then, i begin to realise the adrenaline has worn off and *fuck does it hurt.. i was then required to hobble around the museum for the rest of the day, trying not to leave blood everywhere, in a significant deal of pain.
karma wasn't done with me just yet though, as due to the fact i couldn't clean the gashes, they had a whole ton of gravel and other shit in them, and got horribly infected several says later.
ah, highschool, the best memories.
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 7.6
| 94.592857
| 725
| 53.646677
| 0.475248
| 0.594371
| 0.452131
| 0.461735
| 0.000158
| 1.312875
| -0.176946
| null | -0.127243
| -0.371597
| 0.298301
| null | 0.324888
| 0.090139
|
1,056
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| null | 0.124571
| 0.387027
| 0.629647
| null | 0.164036
| 0.549151
| 0.748781
|
1,057
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| null | 0.629669
| 0.648387
| 0.145583
| null | 0.669134
| 0.810511
| 0.264717
|
1,058
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| null | 0.434204
| 0.629797
| 0.684119
| null | 0.473669
| 0.791921
| 0.803253
|
1,059
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| null | 0.313464
| 0.178838
| 0.54891
| null | 0.35293
| 0.340962
| 0.668044
|
1,060
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| 0.427474
| null | 0.358027
| 0.505245
| 0.684899
| null | 0.520152
| 0.62438
|
1,061
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| 0.532613
| null | 0.627477
| 0.433327
| 0.790039
| null | 0.789602
| 0.552462
|
1,062
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| 0.557535
| 0.584763
| null | 0.149077
| 0.814961
| 0.624228
| null | 0.268211
|
1,063
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| 0.488896
| 0.193856
| 0.60064
| null | 0.746322
| 0.233321
| 0.762764
| null |
1,064
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| 0.580194
| null | 0.247503
| 0.496442
| 0.83762
| null | 0.409627
| 0.615576
|
1,065
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| null | 0.535898
| 0.591268
| 0.337908
| null | 0.575363
| 0.753392
| 0.457042
|
1,066
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| 0.521913
| 0.204767
| 0.251252
| null | 0.779339
| 0.244232
| 0.413376
| null |
1,067
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| null | 0.407563
| 0.656478
| 0.404506
| null | 0.447028
| 0.818603
| 0.52364
|
1,068
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| 0.163431
| null | 0.653324
| 0.187633
| 0.420856
| null | 0.815448
| 0.306767
|
1,069
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| 0.381603
| null | 0.527597
| 0.389964
| 0.639029
| null | 0.689722
| 0.509098
|
1,070
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| 0.14881
| 0.201638
| 0.448935
| null | 0.406236
| 0.241103
| 0.611059
| null |
1,071
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| 0.373944
| 0.543011
| null | 0.627233
| 0.63137
| 0.582476
| null | 0.746368
|
1,072
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| 0.383696
| 0.176106
| 0.343728
| null | 0.641121
| 0.215571
| 0.505852
| null |
1,073
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| 0.622411
| 0.25879
| 0.508822
| null | 0.879837
| 0.298255
| 0.670946
| null |
1,074
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| null | 0.436239
| 0.497938
| 0.573565
| null | 0.475704
| 0.660062
| 0.692699
|
1,075
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| null | 0.103915
| 0.355377
| -0.109319
| null | 0.14338
| 0.517501
| 0.009815
|
1,076
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| -0.187754
| 0.296013
| 0.327338
| null | 0.069671
| 0.335478
| 0.489462
| null |
1,077
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| null | 0.13321
| 0.133605
| 0.511324
| null | 0.172675
| 0.29573
| 0.630458
|
1,078
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| null | 0.483865
| -0.125916
| 0.33309
| null | 0.52333
| 0.036208
| 0.452224
|
1,079
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| null | 0.165782
| 0.413322
| 0.65563
| null | 0.205247
| 0.575446
| 0.774764
|
1,080
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| -0.215929
| 0.352933
| 0.506352
| null | 0.041497
| 0.392398
| 0.668476
| null |
1,081
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| null | 0.207787
| 0.673246
| 0.319333
| null | 0.247252
| 0.835371
| 0.438467
|
1,082
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| null | 0.624763
| 0.411226
| 0.400614
| null | 0.664229
| 0.57335
| 0.519748
|
1,083
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| 0.493206
| null | 0.145481
| 0.498285
| 0.750632
| null | 0.307606
| 0.617419
|
1,084
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| -0.156333
| 0.583515
| null | 0.314519
| 0.101093
| 0.62298
| null | 0.433654
|
1,085
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| 0.279444
| 0.12786
| null | 0.651348
| 0.53687
| 0.167325
| null | 0.770482
|
1,086
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| -0.160003
| null | 0.577742
| 0.631473
| 0.097423
| null | 0.739866
| 0.750608
|
1,087
| 7,772
|
so this happened years ago, but i don't think reddit existed yet. so i would have been 26 at the time and i figure i should start going for yearly check ups. so i go the the doctors and get the full deal, and as it turns out i have phimosis. for those who don't know it's when the foreskin cannot be retracted. 26 years and i thought it was normal i guess i haven't been normal for 26 years. so he suggest i get a circumcision, fast forward to the operation..i'm laying down on the table as they put this blanket over me with this hole where my penise is suppose to go. they ask me if i'm ready i say yes. and say take a deep breathe we are going to inject you with some local anesthetic...your thinking it's just going to be one and that's it...but nnoooo... freaking 5 needles...the last one on the tip of the head, and let me tell you i felt every single one of them...even tho everything is suppose to be numb i still can feel it albeit minimal....doctor kept saying to keep still and i tell him i cant. i can still feel it and just continues on doing what he's doing....i remember the smell of burning flesh the smoke rising up to the ceiling, everything...and all i could think about was why didn't i inquire about being put to sleep...it wasn't a long surgical procedure but i'm freaking 33years old and i still feel every needle, every moment of that experience...... :(
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 5.4
| 48.147179
| 310
| 43.796992
| 0.257426
| 0.039465
| 0.162124
| 0.119134
| 0.000058
| 0.477656
| 0.335979
| null | 0.48129
| 0.676091
| 0.593405
| null | 0.643414
| 0.795225
|
1,088
| 5,776
|
this event occurred roughly two years ago when i was a 13/14 year old messing around in school, like most kids do.
to set the scene, i was sat in my history lesson and someone had made one of those paper fortune teller things.
i was assigned the chief role of decorating said fortune teller. now as the immature 13/14 year old i was, i immediately set away at writing and drawing all the obscenities and phallic images that popped into my mind, whilst my teacher (who for some reason seemed to like me more than most of the other kids) rambled on about the slave trade.
now, i was so immersed in my drawings, i neglected to keep an eye on my teacher and to make sure i wasn't caught not paying attention. at some point the class went silent and i realised the teacher was stood over me and my 'artwork'. she held her hand out for the paper, and at this point i knew i was fucked...
the whole class watched the teacher take the paper and she opened it on a random section, being the lucky guy i am it happened to be on a drawing of the veiniest, fattest dick imaginable. she asked me what this meant, and in my state of complete embarrassment, all i could utter were those fateful words which still haunt me to this day:"that means you're a cock. a trip to the heads office and a phone call home resulted in me being suspended from school for a week, and never having the same experience in those history lessons again...
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 10.3
| 66.584773
| 300
| 59.17603
| 0.742574
| 0.259747
| 0.155136
| 0.654063
| 0.000054
| 0.448126
| -0.243522
| 0.365313
| -0.145614
| null | 0.499052
| 0.625059
| 0.009522
| null |
1,089
| 5,776
|
this event occurred roughly two years ago when i was a 13/14 year old messing around in school, like most kids do.
to set the scene, i was sat in my history lesson and someone had made one of those paper fortune teller things.
i was assigned the chief role of decorating said fortune teller. now as the immature 13/14 year old i was, i immediately set away at writing and drawing all the obscenities and phallic images that popped into my mind, whilst my teacher (who for some reason seemed to like me more than most of the other kids) rambled on about the slave trade.
now, i was so immersed in my drawings, i neglected to keep an eye on my teacher and to make sure i wasn't caught not paying attention. at some point the class went silent and i realised the teacher was stood over me and my 'artwork'. she held her hand out for the paper, and at this point i knew i was fucked...
the whole class watched the teacher take the paper and she opened it on a random section, being the lucky guy i am it happened to be on a drawing of the veiniest, fattest dick imaginable. she asked me what this meant, and in my state of complete embarrassment, all i could utter were those fateful words which still haunt me to this day:"that means you're a cock. a trip to the heads office and a phone call home resulted in me being suspended from school for a week, and never having the same experience in those history lessons again...
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 10.3
| 66.584773
| 300
| 59.17603
| 0.742574
| 0.259747
| 0.155136
| 0.654063
| 0.000054
| 0.448126
| -0.262835
| 0.651559
| null | 0.332001
| 0.479739
| 0.911305
| null | 0.986063
|
1,090
| 5,776
|
this event occurred roughly two years ago when i was a 13/14 year old messing around in school, like most kids do.
to set the scene, i was sat in my history lesson and someone had made one of those paper fortune teller things.
i was assigned the chief role of decorating said fortune teller. now as the immature 13/14 year old i was, i immediately set away at writing and drawing all the obscenities and phallic images that popped into my mind, whilst my teacher (who for some reason seemed to like me more than most of the other kids) rambled on about the slave trade.
now, i was so immersed in my drawings, i neglected to keep an eye on my teacher and to make sure i wasn't caught not paying attention. at some point the class went silent and i realised the teacher was stood over me and my 'artwork'. she held her hand out for the paper, and at this point i knew i was fucked...
the whole class watched the teacher take the paper and she opened it on a random section, being the lucky guy i am it happened to be on a drawing of the veiniest, fattest dick imaginable. she asked me what this meant, and in my state of complete embarrassment, all i could utter were those fateful words which still haunt me to this day:"that means you're a cock. a trip to the heads office and a phone call home resulted in me being suspended from school for a week, and never having the same experience in those history lessons again...
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 10.3
| 66.584773
| 300
| 59.17603
| 0.742574
| 0.259747
| 0.155136
| 0.654063
| 0.000054
| 0.448126
| -0.300205
| 0.538881
| 0.59544
| null | 0.442369
| 0.798628
| 0.750577
| null |
1,091
| 5,776
|
this event occurred roughly two years ago when i was a 13/14 year old messing around in school, like most kids do.
to set the scene, i was sat in my history lesson and someone had made one of those paper fortune teller things.
i was assigned the chief role of decorating said fortune teller. now as the immature 13/14 year old i was, i immediately set away at writing and drawing all the obscenities and phallic images that popped into my mind, whilst my teacher (who for some reason seemed to like me more than most of the other kids) rambled on about the slave trade.
now, i was so immersed in my drawings, i neglected to keep an eye on my teacher and to make sure i wasn't caught not paying attention. at some point the class went silent and i realised the teacher was stood over me and my 'artwork'. she held her hand out for the paper, and at this point i knew i was fucked...
the whole class watched the teacher take the paper and she opened it on a random section, being the lucky guy i am it happened to be on a drawing of the veiniest, fattest dick imaginable. she asked me what this meant, and in my state of complete embarrassment, all i could utter were those fateful words which still haunt me to this day:"that means you're a cock. a trip to the heads office and a phone call home resulted in me being suspended from school for a week, and never having the same experience in those history lessons again...
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 10.3
| 66.584773
| 300
| 59.17603
| 0.742574
| 0.259747
| 0.155136
| 0.654063
| 0.000054
| 0.448126
| -0.443422
| null | 0.606916
| -0.415224
| 0.299152
| null | 0.762053
| 0.238838
|
1,092
| 5,776
|
this event occurred roughly two years ago when i was a 13/14 year old messing around in school, like most kids do.
to set the scene, i was sat in my history lesson and someone had made one of those paper fortune teller things.
i was assigned the chief role of decorating said fortune teller. now as the immature 13/14 year old i was, i immediately set away at writing and drawing all the obscenities and phallic images that popped into my mind, whilst my teacher (who for some reason seemed to like me more than most of the other kids) rambled on about the slave trade.
now, i was so immersed in my drawings, i neglected to keep an eye on my teacher and to make sure i wasn't caught not paying attention. at some point the class went silent and i realised the teacher was stood over me and my 'artwork'. she held her hand out for the paper, and at this point i knew i was fucked...
the whole class watched the teacher take the paper and she opened it on a random section, being the lucky guy i am it happened to be on a drawing of the veiniest, fattest dick imaginable. she asked me what this meant, and in my state of complete embarrassment, all i could utter were those fateful words which still haunt me to this day:"that means you're a cock. a trip to the heads office and a phone call home resulted in me being suspended from school for a week, and never having the same experience in those history lessons again...
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 10.3
| 66.584773
| 300
| 59.17603
| 0.742574
| 0.259747
| 0.155136
| 0.654063
| 0.000054
| 0.448126
| 0.199667
| 0.114848
| null | -0.149615
| 0.942241
| 0.374595
| null | 0.504447
|
1,093
| 5,776
|
this event occurred roughly two years ago when i was a 13/14 year old messing around in school, like most kids do.
to set the scene, i was sat in my history lesson and someone had made one of those paper fortune teller things.
i was assigned the chief role of decorating said fortune teller. now as the immature 13/14 year old i was, i immediately set away at writing and drawing all the obscenities and phallic images that popped into my mind, whilst my teacher (who for some reason seemed to like me more than most of the other kids) rambled on about the slave trade.
now, i was so immersed in my drawings, i neglected to keep an eye on my teacher and to make sure i wasn't caught not paying attention. at some point the class went silent and i realised the teacher was stood over me and my 'artwork'. she held her hand out for the paper, and at this point i knew i was fucked...
the whole class watched the teacher take the paper and she opened it on a random section, being the lucky guy i am it happened to be on a drawing of the veiniest, fattest dick imaginable. she asked me what this meant, and in my state of complete embarrassment, all i could utter were those fateful words which still haunt me to this day:"that means you're a cock. a trip to the heads office and a phone call home resulted in me being suspended from school for a week, and never having the same experience in those history lessons again...
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 10.3
| 66.584773
| 300
| 59.17603
| 0.742574
| 0.259747
| 0.155136
| 0.654063
| 0.000054
| 0.448126
| -0.132234
| null | 0.655871
| -0.148085
| 0.61034
| null | 0.811007
| 0.505978
|
1,094
| 5,776
|
this event occurred roughly two years ago when i was a 13/14 year old messing around in school, like most kids do.
to set the scene, i was sat in my history lesson and someone had made one of those paper fortune teller things.
i was assigned the chief role of decorating said fortune teller. now as the immature 13/14 year old i was, i immediately set away at writing and drawing all the obscenities and phallic images that popped into my mind, whilst my teacher (who for some reason seemed to like me more than most of the other kids) rambled on about the slave trade.
now, i was so immersed in my drawings, i neglected to keep an eye on my teacher and to make sure i wasn't caught not paying attention. at some point the class went silent and i realised the teacher was stood over me and my 'artwork'. she held her hand out for the paper, and at this point i knew i was fucked...
the whole class watched the teacher take the paper and she opened it on a random section, being the lucky guy i am it happened to be on a drawing of the veiniest, fattest dick imaginable. she asked me what this meant, and in my state of complete embarrassment, all i could utter were those fateful words which still haunt me to this day:"that means you're a cock. a trip to the heads office and a phone call home resulted in me being suspended from school for a week, and never having the same experience in those history lessons again...
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 10.3
| 66.584773
| 300
| 59.17603
| 0.742574
| 0.259747
| 0.155136
| 0.654063
| 0.000054
| 0.448126
| null | 0.425317
| 0.232767
| -0.419157
| null | 0.685064
| 0.387903
| 0.234906
|
1,095
| 5,776
|
this event occurred roughly two years ago when i was a 13/14 year old messing around in school, like most kids do.
to set the scene, i was sat in my history lesson and someone had made one of those paper fortune teller things.
i was assigned the chief role of decorating said fortune teller. now as the immature 13/14 year old i was, i immediately set away at writing and drawing all the obscenities and phallic images that popped into my mind, whilst my teacher (who for some reason seemed to like me more than most of the other kids) rambled on about the slave trade.
now, i was so immersed in my drawings, i neglected to keep an eye on my teacher and to make sure i wasn't caught not paying attention. at some point the class went silent and i realised the teacher was stood over me and my 'artwork'. she held her hand out for the paper, and at this point i knew i was fucked...
the whole class watched the teacher take the paper and she opened it on a random section, being the lucky guy i am it happened to be on a drawing of the veiniest, fattest dick imaginable. she asked me what this meant, and in my state of complete embarrassment, all i could utter were those fateful words which still haunt me to this day:"that means you're a cock. a trip to the heads office and a phone call home resulted in me being suspended from school for a week, and never having the same experience in those history lessons again...
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 10.3
| 66.584773
| 300
| 59.17603
| 0.742574
| 0.259747
| 0.155136
| 0.654063
| 0.000054
| 0.448126
| -0.397334
| 0.587885
| null | -0.110942
| 0.34524
| 0.847631
| null | 0.543121
|
1,096
| 5,776
|
this event occurred roughly two years ago when i was a 13/14 year old messing around in school, like most kids do.
to set the scene, i was sat in my history lesson and someone had made one of those paper fortune teller things.
i was assigned the chief role of decorating said fortune teller. now as the immature 13/14 year old i was, i immediately set away at writing and drawing all the obscenities and phallic images that popped into my mind, whilst my teacher (who for some reason seemed to like me more than most of the other kids) rambled on about the slave trade.
now, i was so immersed in my drawings, i neglected to keep an eye on my teacher and to make sure i wasn't caught not paying attention. at some point the class went silent and i realised the teacher was stood over me and my 'artwork'. she held her hand out for the paper, and at this point i knew i was fucked...
the whole class watched the teacher take the paper and she opened it on a random section, being the lucky guy i am it happened to be on a drawing of the veiniest, fattest dick imaginable. she asked me what this meant, and in my state of complete embarrassment, all i could utter were those fateful words which still haunt me to this day:"that means you're a cock. a trip to the heads office and a phone call home resulted in me being suspended from school for a week, and never having the same experience in those history lessons again...
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 10.3
| 66.584773
| 300
| 59.17603
| 0.742574
| 0.259747
| 0.155136
| 0.654063
| 0.000054
| 0.448126
| -0.403114
| null | 0.670283
| -0.171198
| 0.339461
| null | 0.825419
| 0.482865
|
1,097
| 5,776
|
this event occurred roughly two years ago when i was a 13/14 year old messing around in school, like most kids do.
to set the scene, i was sat in my history lesson and someone had made one of those paper fortune teller things.
i was assigned the chief role of decorating said fortune teller. now as the immature 13/14 year old i was, i immediately set away at writing and drawing all the obscenities and phallic images that popped into my mind, whilst my teacher (who for some reason seemed to like me more than most of the other kids) rambled on about the slave trade.
now, i was so immersed in my drawings, i neglected to keep an eye on my teacher and to make sure i wasn't caught not paying attention. at some point the class went silent and i realised the teacher was stood over me and my 'artwork'. she held her hand out for the paper, and at this point i knew i was fucked...
the whole class watched the teacher take the paper and she opened it on a random section, being the lucky guy i am it happened to be on a drawing of the veiniest, fattest dick imaginable. she asked me what this meant, and in my state of complete embarrassment, all i could utter were those fateful words which still haunt me to this day:"that means you're a cock. a trip to the heads office and a phone call home resulted in me being suspended from school for a week, and never having the same experience in those history lessons again...
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 10.3
| 66.584773
| 300
| 59.17603
| 0.742574
| 0.259747
| 0.155136
| 0.654063
| 0.000054
| 0.448126
| 0.207399
| -0.105204
| 0.141099
| null | 0.949973
| 0.154542
| 0.296236
| null |
1,098
| 5,776
|
this event occurred roughly two years ago when i was a 13/14 year old messing around in school, like most kids do.
to set the scene, i was sat in my history lesson and someone had made one of those paper fortune teller things.
i was assigned the chief role of decorating said fortune teller. now as the immature 13/14 year old i was, i immediately set away at writing and drawing all the obscenities and phallic images that popped into my mind, whilst my teacher (who for some reason seemed to like me more than most of the other kids) rambled on about the slave trade.
now, i was so immersed in my drawings, i neglected to keep an eye on my teacher and to make sure i wasn't caught not paying attention. at some point the class went silent and i realised the teacher was stood over me and my 'artwork'. she held her hand out for the paper, and at this point i knew i was fucked...
the whole class watched the teacher take the paper and she opened it on a random section, being the lucky guy i am it happened to be on a drawing of the veiniest, fattest dick imaginable. she asked me what this meant, and in my state of complete embarrassment, all i could utter were those fateful words which still haunt me to this day:"that means you're a cock. a trip to the heads office and a phone call home resulted in me being suspended from school for a week, and never having the same experience in those history lessons again...
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 10.3
| 66.584773
| 300
| 59.17603
| 0.742574
| 0.259747
| 0.155136
| 0.654063
| 0.000054
| 0.448126
| -0.184256
| null | 0.221331
| 0.186469
| 0.558318
| null | 0.376467
| 0.840531
|
1,099
| 5,776
|
this event occurred roughly two years ago when i was a 13/14 year old messing around in school, like most kids do.
to set the scene, i was sat in my history lesson and someone had made one of those paper fortune teller things.
i was assigned the chief role of decorating said fortune teller. now as the immature 13/14 year old i was, i immediately set away at writing and drawing all the obscenities and phallic images that popped into my mind, whilst my teacher (who for some reason seemed to like me more than most of the other kids) rambled on about the slave trade.
now, i was so immersed in my drawings, i neglected to keep an eye on my teacher and to make sure i wasn't caught not paying attention. at some point the class went silent and i realised the teacher was stood over me and my 'artwork'. she held her hand out for the paper, and at this point i knew i was fucked...
the whole class watched the teacher take the paper and she opened it on a random section, being the lucky guy i am it happened to be on a drawing of the veiniest, fattest dick imaginable. she asked me what this meant, and in my state of complete embarrassment, all i could utter were those fateful words which still haunt me to this day:"that means you're a cock. a trip to the heads office and a phone call home resulted in me being suspended from school for a week, and never having the same experience in those history lessons again...
|
Dataset: ctr4si/reddit_tifu/short/train
| 10.3
| 66.584773
| 300
| 59.17603
| 0.742574
| 0.259747
| 0.155136
| 0.654063
| 0.000054
| 0.448126
| null | 0.449694
| 0.253428
| -0.349079
| null | 0.709441
| 0.408564
| 0.304984
|
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