Took some tests
Scowling wilfully towards Autobot City, you're Megatron!
Look in a mirror and feel the evil. Then eat the mirror. You eat mirrors for breakfast. You are a badass death robot. You busted on Optimus Prime. You. Are. Megatron. Go outside and burn some animals, because you're worth it.
Which Colossal Death Robot Are You?
Brought to you by Rum and Monkey
You are Gaius Caesar Germanicus - better known as Caligula!
Third Emperor of Rome and ruler of one of the most powerful empires of all time, your common name means "little boots". Although you only reigned for four years, brief even by Roman standards, you still managed to garner a reputation as a cruel, extravagant and downright insane despot. Your father died in suspicious circumstances, you were not the intended heir, and one of your first acts as Emperor was to force the suicide of your father-in-law. Your sister Drusilla died that same year; faced with allegations that your relationship with her had been incestuous, you responded, bafflingly, by declaring her a god.
You revived a number of unpopular traditions, including auctions of properties left over from public shows. When a senator fell asleep at one such auction, you took each of his nods as bids, selling him 13 gladiators for a vast sum. You attempted to have your horse, Incitatus, made into a consul and hence one of the most powerful figures in Rome. It was granted a marble stable with jewels and a staff of servants. At one point you forced your comrade Macro to kill himself - in much the same vein as your father-in-law - accusing him of being his wife's pimp. You, of course, were having an affair with said wife at the time.
Things went from bad to worse. When supplies of condemned men ran short in the circus, you had innocent spectators dragged into the arena with the lions to fill their place. You claimed mastery of the sea by walking across a three-mile bridge of boats in the Bay of Naples; kissed the necks of your lovers, whispering sweet nothings like "This lovely neck will be chopped as soon as I say so,"; dallied with your sister's lover and made her pull her unborn child out of her womb prematurely. Towards the end of your reign, you had a golden statue of yourself made and dressed each day in the same clothes you yourself wore. When you eventually died, the terrified people of Rome refused to believe that such a cruel reign could ever end, and believed you to be alive for years afterwards.
Which Historical Lunatic Are You?
From the fecund loins of Rum and Monkey.
I didn't think I was *that* evil...but it's nice to know I could give Justin a run for his money...
Atheism
You can laugh at the silly superstitions of the religious, safe in the knowledge that we are only dust and lies. All that will be left of you after you die is a slow decay and some fading memories in the minds of your friends. Hope you're enjoying your life at the moment- there's nothing better to come.
Are You Damned?
Brought to you by Rum and Monkey
Insane ninja child!
The blast must have hit you particularly strong, because you've gained a billion new superpowers and can take on anyone you want. Even that kid Gunrock-with-nine-arms from down the street. Only problem is, it's driven you completely insane and you now have a thirst for blood equalled only by your thirst for vengeance and peeing in the kitchen bin.
No, stop! That's what the toilet's for. Stop I say!
Which Survivor of the Impending Nuclear Apocalypse Are You?
A Rum and Monkey joint.
Congratulations, you're Pinochet!
You ruled Chile from 1973 to 1990, and are responsible for the abduction, torture, disappearance, and execution of thousands upon thousands of political opponents. When you first took power in 1973, you embarked upon a programme delightfully named the Caravan of Death, which extracted prisoners from the country's jails and executed them. Victims were sodomised, blinded, starved and electrocuted, amongst other things, hundreds and hundreds of times in just the two years between 1988 and 1990.
You also were allied with Britain in the Falklands war during the 1980s; Margaret Thatcher, then the Prime Minister of Britain, has said that it owes you a great debt.
Which Evil Criminal are You?
A Rum and Monkey crime.
You start, innocently enough, with a headache; a fever; chills. Nothing special. Might as well be the flu. But that is only the beginning.
You move on through the unpleasant symptoms list, inducing vomiting, abdominal pain and diarrhea. You start to shut down the kidney and liver, and start to cause bleeding both internally and externally, with little or no clotting. Finally, the patient crashes and bleeds out, in a veritable explosion of blood. Anyone who has contact with that blood, or any of the patient's body fluids while s/he is infected, is also liable to get you. Now that's what I'm talking about!
Which Horrible Affliction are you?
A Rum and Monkey disease.
Is it just me, or do most of these involve the question: "Have you ever destroyed a small village?"
Including this one:
I'll smoke you a kipper, because you'll be back for breakfast. You're the cult television show quoting, user account deleting, soap loathing IT Manager.
Something in your childhood has made you the way you are. You've been hired to provide a service to everyone else in the office - you make the computers run, and you make them run well. You've streamlined everything; you've removed all the viruses and installed all the firewalls. The only trouble - the only hole in your veneer of digital perfection - is the way you laugh at everyone.
If someone doesn't know UNIX, you laugh at them. If they lose their password, they laugh at them. If they visit a website using Microsoft Internet Explorer and their computer succumbs to an Internet worm, you laugh. Then you take a swig of your Coke, and with another hearty chuckle tell all your friends on IRC about the idiots you have to deal with.
Maybe it makes you feel better about yourself, although let's face it, you don't need help in that department. You're great, you. Fantastic like burning cool. If only those luddite office fools would let you play Unreal Tournament in peace.
Which Office Moron Are You?
Rum and Monkey: jamming your photocopier one tray at a time.
Look in a mirror and feel the evil. Then eat the mirror. You eat mirrors for breakfast. You are a badass death robot. You busted on Optimus Prime. You. Are. Megatron. Go outside and burn some animals, because you're worth it.
Which Colossal Death Robot Are You?
Brought to you by Rum and Monkey
You are Gaius Caesar Germanicus - better known as Caligula!
Third Emperor of Rome and ruler of one of the most powerful empires of all time, your common name means "little boots". Although you only reigned for four years, brief even by Roman standards, you still managed to garner a reputation as a cruel, extravagant and downright insane despot. Your father died in suspicious circumstances, you were not the intended heir, and one of your first acts as Emperor was to force the suicide of your father-in-law. Your sister Drusilla died that same year; faced with allegations that your relationship with her had been incestuous, you responded, bafflingly, by declaring her a god.
You revived a number of unpopular traditions, including auctions of properties left over from public shows. When a senator fell asleep at one such auction, you took each of his nods as bids, selling him 13 gladiators for a vast sum. You attempted to have your horse, Incitatus, made into a consul and hence one of the most powerful figures in Rome. It was granted a marble stable with jewels and a staff of servants. At one point you forced your comrade Macro to kill himself - in much the same vein as your father-in-law - accusing him of being his wife's pimp. You, of course, were having an affair with said wife at the time.
Things went from bad to worse. When supplies of condemned men ran short in the circus, you had innocent spectators dragged into the arena with the lions to fill their place. You claimed mastery of the sea by walking across a three-mile bridge of boats in the Bay of Naples; kissed the necks of your lovers, whispering sweet nothings like "This lovely neck will be chopped as soon as I say so,"; dallied with your sister's lover and made her pull her unborn child out of her womb prematurely. Towards the end of your reign, you had a golden statue of yourself made and dressed each day in the same clothes you yourself wore. When you eventually died, the terrified people of Rome refused to believe that such a cruel reign could ever end, and believed you to be alive for years afterwards.
Which Historical Lunatic Are You?
From the fecund loins of Rum and Monkey.
I didn't think I was *that* evil...but it's nice to know I could give Justin a run for his money...
Atheism
You can laugh at the silly superstitions of the religious, safe in the knowledge that we are only dust and lies. All that will be left of you after you die is a slow decay and some fading memories in the minds of your friends. Hope you're enjoying your life at the moment- there's nothing better to come.
Are You Damned?
Brought to you by Rum and Monkey
Insane ninja child!
The blast must have hit you particularly strong, because you've gained a billion new superpowers and can take on anyone you want. Even that kid Gunrock-with-nine-arms from down the street. Only problem is, it's driven you completely insane and you now have a thirst for blood equalled only by your thirst for vengeance and peeing in the kitchen bin.
No, stop! That's what the toilet's for. Stop I say!
Which Survivor of the Impending Nuclear Apocalypse Are You?
A Rum and Monkey joint.
Congratulations, you're Pinochet!
You ruled Chile from 1973 to 1990, and are responsible for the abduction, torture, disappearance, and execution of thousands upon thousands of political opponents. When you first took power in 1973, you embarked upon a programme delightfully named the Caravan of Death, which extracted prisoners from the country's jails and executed them. Victims were sodomised, blinded, starved and electrocuted, amongst other things, hundreds and hundreds of times in just the two years between 1988 and 1990.
You also were allied with Britain in the Falklands war during the 1980s; Margaret Thatcher, then the Prime Minister of Britain, has said that it owes you a great debt.
Which Evil Criminal are You?
A Rum and Monkey crime.
You start, innocently enough, with a headache; a fever; chills. Nothing special. Might as well be the flu. But that is only the beginning.
You move on through the unpleasant symptoms list, inducing vomiting, abdominal pain and diarrhea. You start to shut down the kidney and liver, and start to cause bleeding both internally and externally, with little or no clotting. Finally, the patient crashes and bleeds out, in a veritable explosion of blood. Anyone who has contact with that blood, or any of the patient's body fluids while s/he is infected, is also liable to get you. Now that's what I'm talking about!
Which Horrible Affliction are you?
A Rum and Monkey disease.
Is it just me, or do most of these involve the question: "Have you ever destroyed a small village?"
Including this one:
I'll smoke you a kipper, because you'll be back for breakfast. You're the cult television show quoting, user account deleting, soap loathing IT Manager.
Something in your childhood has made you the way you are. You've been hired to provide a service to everyone else in the office - you make the computers run, and you make them run well. You've streamlined everything; you've removed all the viruses and installed all the firewalls. The only trouble - the only hole in your veneer of digital perfection - is the way you laugh at everyone.
If someone doesn't know UNIX, you laugh at them. If they lose their password, they laugh at them. If they visit a website using Microsoft Internet Explorer and their computer succumbs to an Internet worm, you laugh. Then you take a swig of your Coke, and with another hearty chuckle tell all your friends on IRC about the idiots you have to deal with.
Maybe it makes you feel better about yourself, although let's face it, you don't need help in that department. You're great, you. Fantastic like burning cool. If only those luddite office fools would let you play Unreal Tournament in peace.
Which Office Moron Are You?
Rum and Monkey: jamming your photocopier one tray at a time.