This note represents pretty much everything about office culture that makes me cringe. Appropriately enough, I can’t even bring myself to call out the specifics — it’s just too overwhelming. (But the sign will always be there…every day, taunting me.)

Our submitter found this glorious piece of work on the door to the common room at her Oxford University dorm. “The guy who left it was a 6’5 redheaded dude who wore cravats,” she says. “No one was gonna fuck with him.” (I don’t really understand the causality there, but I’m gonna let that one go.)

I will give Dustin this much, though: through the pain, he always tells the truth.

related: come get some

A possibly prescient note from the offices of Yahoo! U.K….

related: just in case you didn’t catch the sarcasm

“You know when you drink so much that you can’t remember what you did the night before?” asks our anonymous Scottish pizza bandit. “Sometimes we’re lucky enough to encounter certain things which trigger memories of our alcohol-fueled rampage. I was lucky enough to come across this the next day.”

Craig from Nottingham, England snapped these at the pub where his cousin works. (Apologies for the blurriness — just pretend you’ve already knocked back a few pints.)

By the way, if you’d like to go meet Stephen and shake his hand, Craig says the name of the pub is The Flowing Spring, in Henley. Stephen seems like a kindred spirit to Desi’s New York dungeon master, no?

related: p-e-t-t-y

“Informing the building landlord about a sticky tap would probably have been a more sensible move than guilt-tripping the female staff into feeling responsible for global water shortages,” notes Rayya in Canterbury, Kent.

But it doesn’t end there. Says Rayya, “Not only are we responsible for global water shortages , but we’re breaking people’s limbs!”

This note comes to us from an archaeological dig in the U.K. (Roman Silchester, to be precise), where our submitter says the planning team was quite worried about the writing instruments going the way of Ancient Rome.

Back in 2006, Austin in London didn’t feel like confronting his roommate about the masses of hair that were clogging the bathroom sink. Instead, he wrote him this special poem.

Adds Austin: “My roommate never actually said anything about the note, but he did clean the drain out by the time I’d arived home…so I assume he got the message.”