THE FAIRY LIQUID FIXATED VOLATILE CLEANING GIMP OF MANCHESTER UNI
Like most people who toodle off to university, I spent my first year learning an awful lot about sex, beer and drugs while managing to survive on a diet which consisted almost exclusively of cinnamon flavored pop tarts, Big Macs, and those little lollies you get in chemists that double up as whistles before you lick the innards out and are left with a gooey, sugary stump. (There may have been some lectures thrown in there too somewhere down the line but I’m fucked if I can remember any of that twattery, it was a long time ago).

A mate of a mate was a lad named Ed. A big burly public schoolboy type who was, officially, the most stupid person in the entire fucking world. Decent enough bloke, but thicker than quick setting concrete. Now Ed had a hobby. Drugs. He loved um. Anything he could lay his eager beefy hands on he’d smoke, snort, drink, or quite possible shove up his arse.

And Ed’s particular favorite extra-curricular laboratory-made tipple was that rough-as-fuck, cock-shrinking-motor mouth-enducing shit, speed. If there was a whiff of amphetamine sulphate in the air, Ed would go bounding over like a great big mental puppy and buy up as much of the finest stay-awake powder his parents money could buy. After Ed had snorted enough speed to kill a Shetland pony, he’d hang round and generally be a complete pain in the arse. But then one night he came back to our gaff, whizzing his tits off, went into the kitchen, found a sponge under the sink and started washing the kitchen floor furiously. When he’d finished and we discovered our kitchen floor was actually blue, not grey, Ed started on the washing up. Our bottle of washing up liquid – which we’d bought back in September – was finally getting some use now we were nearing Spring.

Then Ed moved into the living room, the place we’d usually end up playing drunken cups-and-saucers cricket. His massive hands deftly picking the broken crockery out of the shag pile. “This is fucking excellent!” said one of my housemates. And it was. From then on whenever Ed decided to get off his face, we’d always try and engineer it so he ended up back at our place so he could clean up after us.

It was like having our very own six-feet-four, twenty-stone cleaning fair… on drugs.

I was telling one of Ed’s housemates about this cleaning-coup of ours and this lad, Ed’s housemate said cautiously: “I wouldn’t do that in future.” I thought this lad was getting pissy about losing out on his cleaning gimp privilages. But no. He continued: “We did that too – but we had a bad experience and, well, whenever Ed comes back off his tits and goes for a mop or a bucket or fuck knows what,” and this lad leveled his gaze at me and said earnestly. “well, we just pile on and beat the shit out of him before it goes too far. It’s a fucking effort. He’s a big bastard and it usually takes four or five of us to bring him down.”

I laughed it off. This lad was a bit of a joker. He was just… having… a joke…

Was about a month before Ed turned up at our place next, three-thirty in the morning, off his tits on fuck knows what. He marched into the kitchen, we heard him clattering about for a mop and broom – all normal so far. Leave him to it. He’s happy. No problem there.

Only this time Ed marched back into the living room where we sat round listening to Sabbath, Ed was clutching the mop, this weird adgitated, intense look on his face, teeth clenched. This man-mountain of dense inbred upper-middle-classness rocked slowly backward and forward.

“You ok, Ed?” I asked.

- Pause –

“WHICH OF YOU FUCKERS USED MY FUCKING FAIRY LIQUID!!! I’M GONNA KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU FUCKING CUNTS!!! CUU-UUU-UUU-NNN-NNN-TTT-TTT-SSSS!!!”

And with that he slammed the mop down hard on the lad closest to him, my mate Ian, and knocked him out cold. The rest of us – being proper manly heroic types – made a mad dash for the door and the relative safety of the cold Manchester night air outside where we hid in the bushes, our breath billowing out as steam from the effort of moving so quickly without actually shitting ourselves.

Ed, if you’re out there now and you happen to be reading this. I want to make a confession. It was Ian. He used your Fairy Liquid. I know where he lives, if you want his address and feel like going round and hitting him again???
( SpankyHanky, Fri 26 Mar 2010, 14:54, Reply)