I suppose this should go in really!


:o)
( The Boy T, Sat 12 Feb 2005, 10:45, Reply)

South Wales Echo
me and my brother, aged 7 and 8 holding a stillborn siamese piglet corpse, smiling.
I had to hold the cold umbilical cord and hide it behind the piggy corpse.
*shivers in horror*
( mictoboy shitting in your cunt since, Sat 12 Feb 2005, 13:54, Reply)

It's a risky business, being in the paper
Thirty one years ago, I was pictured in the Kentish Gazette in my cub scout uniform (aged 7) having been snapped while helping on our charity cake stall at the county show. The accompanying article gave my full name and the town where I lived. I recall being slightly excited and considerably embarrassed, with some trepidation regarding the inevitable kicking I would get from my classmates.

The next morning - a saturday - the phone rang and my mum called me, saying it's "Akela", the scoutmaster. I thought he sounded odd, but believed it was really him - after all, mum had said it was. The chap on the phone then proceeded to ask me about the newspaper photo, and so on - then veered off into unfamiliar territory - had I ever been photographed naked, and would I like to be. I was baffled and very uncomfortable, but at seven, didn't know how to deal with an authority figure being weird. He then wanted to know if I'd ever sucked another boys penis, and whether I had any particularly strong views on anal sex. I had no idea what he was on about and stayed on the line in the vain hope that I was misunderstanding and it would all suddenly make sense.

Eventually, his breathing became rather loud, and, with a grunt or two, he rang off. Bemused, I recounted this to mum, who called the police. Eventually, it turned out that there was a repeated problem with this - the perv would see a kids pic in the paper (school sports and scouts being his favourites) and work his way through all the families with the same surname in the phone book, asking to speak to the relevant kid (pretending to be a teacher or some such)until, after several "Sorry, wrong number" calls, he hit the jackpot. They never caught him. And I have tried to stay out of the local rag ever since. Now, of course, we have the internet, and he wouldn't need to go to so much trouble - just pop into a chat room and let them come to you.

Sadly, although I was barely upset by this, I never felt comfortable with the poor scoutmaster who had been impersonated and soon hung up my woggle for ever.
( godstar, Thu 10 Feb 2005, 18:36, Reply)

Fishing Lures in my Arse
I was in a fishing tournament with a friend of mine and while changing lures..threw the previous lure on the seat. Not thinking, I sat down..and the lure ended up embedded in my right arse cheek.

Not wanting to lose the tournament (as we were catching many fish), my friend dropped me off at shore and I painfully walked to my car..and drove myself (sitting on one arse cheek) to the local emergency room.

They took the lure out of my arse..put in stiches..and handed me back my expensive lure.

While walking back to my car..I ran into a friend visiting a family member. We laughed about my little "incident" as we walked to my car and I threw the lure onto my car seat. We continued to chat for a bit..and as I got into my car..I sat on the lure yet again...and it embedded itself into my other arse cheek.

As I limped back into the emergency room, my friend was laughing so hard he could barely contain himself..yet he had the energy to run to his car, grab his camera and took a picture of me limping back to the emergency room... fishhead lure hanging our of my arse..and posted it in the local paper!!
(katie36_99, Sun 13 Feb 2005, 7:28, Reply)

Oh god .... Ive been trying to forget about this ........
I made the front page of the Watford Observer in Dec 1997. I happened to burn my house down AND almost kill the kid i was sharing it with at the same time ...

It all started At about 8am on a Sunday morning outside my digs that i shared with 2 other blokes (not gay!)and i had to be at a regular haunt for bikers in north London by midday. No problems! except i was having issues with my fuel getting to my carbs on my beast ... So ... there i was in the street outside my terraced house wresting with this sodding petrol tank. because i have an intellect the size of a small planet i decided it would be safer for all concerned if i took the tank away from the the roadside and into my back yard where it would be undisturbed. Great idea! Where this plan fell apart was when i went THROUGH the house with the tank and NOT through the alley!

Now (luckily for me in retrospect) its a straight line from my front door to my back door in my kitchen, so i strolled through holding the petrol tank safely in both hands. Got to the back door - LOCKED! Okay ... Put the tank down, unlocked and opened the door and then picked up the tank again. At this point all i recall is seeing an orange rainbow of flame arch from the kitchen corner towards the tank. There was a MASSIVE noise and rushing sound and then i was skidding across tarmac flat on my back. Yup .. Id been blown clean through the house into the street! ... Ouch!

Now normally this is where mu humorous tale would end ... But oh no ... i have more! Of these 2 mates i was sharing with one (the one i didnt see eye to eye with) has left early for sunday league footie but the other is tucked up snugly in bed! (not mine!) So im banging on doors getting ppl to call the polie/fire/ambulance/coastguard/boys brigade whilst shouting "wake the fuck up u cunt! The house is on fire!" ... But his room is at the back of the house above the kitchen so cant hear me.

Well .... he's upstairs and hes awake. And he can hear alot of banging and smashing (the windows and worktops cracking with the heat!) and thinks that myself and the other bloke are have a right old set too with our fists! (whats going on in his head!!??) After a coupla mins he starts thinking "jesus! they're killing each other!" and gets up ... Whereupon he starts jumping up and down because the floor (kitchen ceiling) is red-hot! "ooh" "ow!" "fucksocks!" he was shouting! then he notices the smoke .... And shits his jim-jams! So .... He throws a chair through his window causing a vacuum which sucks all the smoke in the house through his room ... In a coupla seconds hes flat out unconscious due to lack of oxygen .... Hes had better Sunday mornings im sure!

Outside 2 big red fire trucks have pulled up, a large crowd has formed and im being quizzed about the blaze ... like i have a clue! But i do manage to let them know there may someone in there ... And off they steam into the inferno. About a minute later they drag out my mate ... black as the ace of spades and stark bollock naked to boot! Hah! in front of the neighbours! The ambulance rushed us both to the hospital. Im fine - scorched eyebrows and a sore arse - and my mate was kept in a for a coupla days due to smoke inhalation.

What wasnt destroyed by fire was damaged by the water they chucked at it! the house was gutted and almost completely rebuilt ... And i had no household insurance so lost the lot! (let that be a lesson to the rest of you!)

The fire chief reckoned that there wasnt a 100% seal on the gas boiler and that had ignited the pertol fumes in the kitchen. (get em checked ppl!) The gas boiler exploded blowing me through the house which probably saved me before the petrol tank erupted dousing every thing in accellerant.

The police were very understanding ...

OB "So ... you must hate him then. To want to burn him alive.."

ME "ummm ... no..."

OB "behind in your payments were you....?"

ME "up to date actually....."

OB "Well its gotta be an insurance job ...."

ME"Ive lost the lot ... *sobs* "

And thats how i made front page of my local rag ...

(I also made the front page of the Daily Mail in 1993 too .... I have it somewhere .. I was out in Bosnia but i forget what the story was about ... it had a good pic of me tho! Very handsome i was!)
( Jaffacake, Fri 11 Feb 2005, 0:00, Reply)

Royal Stamp
When I was a very young child, Prince Charles came to visit my nursery. His missus' regiment was based in the same town, so he often came down to sunny Canterbury for a visit.

I was making a truly spectacular Skittle Brick sculpture until it was cruelly destroyed by the foot of the King to be. I was so upset, I was 3, that I stamped on his foot and cried.

All caught under the watchful TV lens of TVS (now Meridian). Make things worse, my Mum gave me a slap when she saw the news for being rude to a stranger.

It was a bloody good sculpture... and I'd do it again to his foot if I saw him.
(In_there_like_swimwear, Thu 10 Feb 2005, 15:41, Reply)

The Free classified Ads game
My local East Anglia AdTrader has carried a few of my adverts;

-Amazing bicycle! 7 wheeled machine with tyres from a John Deer tractor.
Requires five riders. Featured in Look East and competes under the name "Big Jordan" Must be ridden to be believed.

-Used and slightly soiled wedding dress, post box red pvc with see-through floral detail, would stretch to fit sizes 12-18 depending on occasion

-Champion Racing Pigeons. Two enthusiastic but inseparable male birds. Race under the names Rascal Big Beak the 3rd and Captain Coo Coo-ee. Good race success, but questionable breeding potential, hence price.

Their filth filter is quite challenging. But when you win, your Ad appears in print. Great game.
(mrdirtylegs, Thu 10 Feb 2005, 12:16, Reply)

Testicles
When I was little we went to Butlins every year. When I was seven I turned up in the Butlin's new summer holiday brochure. I can't remember the photo being taken... but then I also can't remember sitting at the side of the indoor pool with my shorts twisted and my tiny pink pods on display for all the world to see.

The shame.
(pb4ugo2bed, Thu 10 Feb 2005, 11:48, Reply)

My ex-girlfriend works for a local newspaper
in the Dorset town where I used to live. Everything was going swimmingly for us -we bought a house, a car, a rabbit- but for some reason she got all uppity when she caught me shagging around, and chucked me out.
Not content with making me homeless, she then ran a full page spread on male impotence and bedwetting in the paper's weekend lifestyle section, centred on a (totally falsified) interview with me that also listed my name, age, and place of work.
Naturally, the rest of the town (including my friends, family and work mates) thought this was hilarious, and when I rang the editor to complain he just burst out laughing and put the phone down.

I now live in Birmingham.
(le renard, Fri 11 Feb 2005, 21:42, Reply)

those funny nutbars down at the sunday sport nicked my picture

we rang them up and they agreed to send me £20 which never arrived.
( Sunshine Elephant, Thu 10 Feb 2005, 16:59, Reply)

budgie seeds
Some nice policemen took away some large plants I'd grown and took me to court, I claimed that the family budgie had thrown some seeds out of his cage and they'd grown in some adjacent flowerpots, next day local paper headlines with "local man grows dope from birdseed" the local pet shop owner bought me drinks all weekend, he'd never had a busier week selling seed!
( Dill, Sun 13 Feb 2005, 12:20, Reply)

Giant Dog
My mate Carl is a big lad who likes Cider.

My home town of Ilkley is quite posh and therefore the local Newspaper will publish articles on any old fucking subject that is currently pissing off all the old dears on the parish counsil.

A few years ago there a spell of some bugger letting his giant dog foul a couple of shop doorsteps late at night.

Story was in the paper two weeks running. The police made investigations. There was a parish counsil stake out. Vets were called to identify the dog breed. People still talk about the dog mystery.

Carl says he got caught short two weeks running on the way back from the only nightclub in town (that fucking shithole is another story).

Dirty bastard. We still laugh about that big fucking dog though.
(Tim K, Sat 12 Feb 2005, 11:29, Reply)

Sick Vandals Smear Shop With Hedgehog
After a rather debauched party in the local rugby club, myself & about 10 friends waited around to make sure all the ladeeez made it safely to their taxis. Unfortunately, upon entering the carpark one of the taxis ran over a hedgehog. What followed is nothing to be proud of, and something which I will put down to our inebriated state... we decided to play football with the poor little roadkill. It wasn't long before things got a little out of control, and the hog found its way on to the roof of a local carphone warehouse, and entrails were liberally scattered across a few parked cars.

A mildly crazy evening, but, as I am sure you will agree, nothing too out of the ordinary.

Come the following Monday, we were rather surprised to find our drunken antics had made front page of the Herts and Essex newspaper, under the headline.... sick vandals smear shop with hedgehog. There was even a £250 reward to find the culprits! The paper also speculated that it may have been the work of devil worshipers or witches. I still have a copy of that old paper.
(tinylittlefella, Tue 15 Feb 2005, 12:02, Reply)

"drug induced fantasies"
A "friend" who writes for a local paper asked if she could interview me about my synaesthesia, "to fill a bit of space".

I said I'd be happy to help out. She knows what synaesthesia is and she knows it really isn't that weird, so I wasn't worried.

"It'll probably go in the health section" she said. I was expecting a small paragraph, somewhere near the back.

I was wrong.

EDIT: yes, magictorch, it is a free paper (I've never seen it sold anywhere) - which means it was delivered to every house in my street, every house in my parents' street, every house in all of my friends' streets, every house in all of my work colleagues' streets ... well, you get the idea.
(editorialgirl, Wed 16 Feb 2005, 14:21, Reply)

Not me but...
a mate (my former boss infact) once took a pan lid, covered it in tin foil, suspended it from a tree by fishing line and took an out-of-focus photo of it.

Its been in a few local papers, featured on TV, and I quote:

"it could be one of the most important [UFO photos] ever to be taken in the past 50 years..."

The reason it's so important is that it strongly resembles a couple of other well known UFO photos

"...It will mean that the same or similar object has not only been seen, but also photographed in three different Countries, in a space of 50 years. It could mean that someone on Earth has disc technology that works, or dare it be said, someone from elsewhere."

I guess people have had pan lids and fishing line for a while.
(Arnolfini wasn't feeling very funny on, Fri 11 Feb 2005, 14:52, Reply)

Newspaper reveals age of sexual partner
In 2002, When I was 22 years old, I woke up with an attractive young lady who I presumed was roughly my age. When getting dressed to leave in the morning, I noticed her face in a newspaper lying on the sideboard. Apparently, she had won a bizzare beatuty contest at the age of 16. Great!

Or not so great... the newspaper was dated 1986, making her 36 years old!

Well, I suppose it could have been worse. If the newspaper was dated 2006 or something, I would have been in real trouble.....
( Mr Gear the gay-maker, Thu 10 Feb 2005, 12:14, Reply)

Once again...
not me but...



What a...
(Woody999, Mon 14 Feb 2005, 18:08, Reply)

Some friends and I set fire to
some gorse bushes on a hillside near our homes when we were about 15. We then put the blaze out (it got quite big quite quickly), lied about seeing some boys running away from thee scene, and got a photo and story in the local paper, together with a certificate of commendation from the fire chief and an offer of compensation for singed clothing from the community association. We declined the money but accepted the praise. /shameful
(stickybellyflapcock, Mon 14 Feb 2005, 13:39, Reply)

Underage drinkers?
When I was 14 some friends and I came out of the cinema on a Friday evening at about 10:30 where two men with a camera asked us to pull our most dazed out "Wayne's World" look. Come Monday morning where our local paper has the pictures of me and my mates looking rather stupid with the headline UNDERAGE DRINKERS ON THE UP. Cue me holding legendary status in my high school for my remaining years, and getting a roasting off the ol' man.
(wonderbrawl was pronounced dead on, Sun 13 Feb 2005, 18:00, Reply)

not strictly the same but.
my dad was reading the local paper a while ago and saw an big article on this guy who had killed his family and himself one evening. my dad very calmly fold up the paper and goes " i used to go to school with that kid. he was a right wanker."

understatement i think
(Le mango, Fri 11 Feb 2005, 15:54, Reply)

Shit haircut and great dog...


That’s me in the local rag (circa 1970) holding my dog Honey – she won first prize in a dog show at a local council run fete in Buckinghamshire. I recall the other mutts there were a bit too excitable to win – I think Honey being in heat may have had something to do with that. As my younger sister pointed out to me “Those dogs with the red lipsticks were very naughty weren’t they?”
The local town councilor presenting the prize was all smiles for the press, but afterwards he told me “Now fuck off back to London where you come from”. A bit taken aback I told him I wasn’t from London. “Bet your dad is then, you little shit” he replied. (My dad later told me that the councilor had a beef with Londoners moving into “his” town and clogging up the waiting list for council houses.)
I was so traumatized by this event that I emigrated to Australia when I was 27 and have never again entered a dog show.

Yeah, yeah, I know it’s a shit haircut...I had a crew cut the next summer.
(emadex thinks the world will end on, Fri 11 Feb 2005, 2:58, Reply)

Horrifically good
Just the other day (Monday) I found myself at the local theatre, all dressed up to go see sing-a-longa Rocky Horror. Now when I say dressed up, I'm talking about stockings, suspenders, corset and thong! One of my female friends gave me a feather boa to complete the look. At the beginning of the show they had a fancy dress competition. There were quite a few entrants, but I somehow managed to win. On my way back to my seat I was dragged to the side by a couple of journalists, who scrawled down a few brief notes and took a few photos. I later found out that the story would be in either the Journal or the Evening Chronicle. I went up to my seat, dreading what people would make of it when they saw it (I work in a school!). The next day I went down to London, leaving at stupid o'clock in the morning, for work, so didn't have the chance to grab a local paper to see if I was in it. I got a text saying I wasn't in the journal, so all was ok... until around 9ish, when I received several texts from people saying they'd seen me in the paper. Apparently the next day at work I was the talk of the staff room (which I stayed away from), but so far the pupils haven't found out... ...yet!

Anyhoo, link to the article be here. I'm the one in the photo at the bottom.
(boxit, Thu 10 Feb 2005, 18:01, Reply)

80's teenage twat in local paper shocker
As a teenager, I was never out of the local rag for one swotty school related reason or another. But the the zenith (or nadir) of this publicty came when I was the managing director of a Young Enterprise Company at school. We were mentored by Bells Whisky, who had a great PR department.

The Bells types announced that on Friday we (Me and 3 others) were to be whisked off to their headquaters for a big press launch. Cue blind panic when we realise all the local publicans will read this paper and realise that we are all under-age!! (I was drinking like a bastard, even then.) So the cunning plan was to dress in our most mature looking civies so it didnt look at first glance we were still at school.

To cut a long story short, I must have had some sort of psychotic episode and I ended up looking like I was " Mr. New Romatic does Business clothes"; Black and grey striped baggy morning suit trousers with flouncy white shirt with wing tip collar, all neatly set off with my patent leather Doc Martin shoes. There may have been a narrow black tie but I cant be sure. Oh, and I had a semi mullet too.

To say I looked like the campest member of Japan was an understatement. To this day, I am suprised that the less tolerant at my school didn't go in for a bit of "queer bashing".

My bastard friends chickened out and arrived in school uniform, and stood behind "the gimp" (me) as not to be spotted, successfuly too I may add.

Of cousre it didn't occur to me the reporter would ask my age either and put incriminating words like "school boy", "6th year pupil" & "Brett3005, age 17" in the piece.

Fucksocks.

Still got served though, probably through pity.
( Fire & Forget it's the only way to be sure, Thu 10 Feb 2005, 14:01, Reply)

Myself and fellow b3ta boarder Bitchpapa
once faked some UFO pictures in our local paranormal hotspot of Bonnybridge.

I thought the plan was rather ingenious - it onvolved a metal road sign, a can of black spray paint, a normal camera and a suitably curved hill. The exact technique is a patented secret.

We sent the pictures to 'The Falkirk Herald' with a covering letter, suposedly from an old lady who had been out walking her dog, then saw a mysterious black triangle in the sky.

We made the front page, but as a text-only piece.

Years later we found out that only a printing deadline had kept the photo off the front page - we should have sent it in a day earlier. The photo had been passed round the entire office and nobody thought it was a fake.
( Mystery_Bob, Thu 10 Feb 2005, 11:49, Reply)

with regard to 'artistic roller skating'
if any of you have kids... for the love of god, if they're male and they take ballet lessons, never let them near the local rag's photographers.

being a boy, they will single the poor little bugger out in any photo - which will lead to several years of subsequent beatings.

character bulidiing. thats how i like to think of it.
(magictorch, Tue 15 Feb 2005, 15:41, Reply)

I shot the sheriff
but I didn't shoot the deputy.

But they only gave me a couple of paragraphs on page 17.
( ArthurTheRat, Sat 12 Feb 2005, 16:35, Reply)

Incest shock!
I have an aunt who is in the Salvation army. Lucky me...

So, back in a dingy Sally army hall in the middle of a cold January in 1973, she officiated the wedding ceremony of my dear parents. Grangemouth must have been somewhat starved of news at the time, because shortly afterwards there appeared a headline in the local rag proclaiming 'Sister marries brother'.

Ye gods, the local neds must have been in pre-Trisha heaven.

My Mum still has the article somewhere...
( b3th Not shit. Not mod., Fri 11 Feb 2005, 18:55, Reply)

Fruity Mayor
While in University I happened to be in the local paper dressed as Sporty Spice with the Mayor standing next to me (organising college event required the outfit).

What most readers wouldn't guess is that my pastered on smile hides the fact that the Mayor is squeezing my bum.

My mum has this picture framed on the mantle piece - I cannot bring myself to tell her.
(droopy, Fri 11 Feb 2005, 14:18, Reply)

The Poop
One day, whilst out walking the dog, my Mum was approached by a stranger with a camera. He turned out to be a reporter from our local rag who was doing a story on the lovely new Poop Scoop bins. My Mother, being the kindly soul that she is, was happy to help him in his quest for cutting-edge news reporting. Consequently, to my horror, there on page 5 of the edition on the following evening was a big picture of my Mum holding an enormous dog turd in a plastic bag and standing next to a poop-scoop bin. I was about 14 at the time, and it really didn't do much for what little street-cred I had.
Unsurprisingly we didn't keep a copy of that one.
(EnvelopeTelepathy, Fri 11 Feb 2005, 12:58, Reply)

Oh the shame...
Much as I try to block this from my memory, my "friends" keep it alive.
Many moons ago in my misguided youth (about 15 I guess) I had a collection of Coca-Cola cans and memorabilia (work with me), and my sister's best friend's mum was head reporter on the local paper The Rhyl Journal. A combination to be wary of kids.

It must have been a slow news week when they decided to put me on the front cover with the headline (this is the killer...) "CANNY MATT IS COKE MAD!"

I'm sure my mum still has the cutting but I've burned all other remaining evidence.
(maffj, Thu 10 Feb 2005, 20:17, Reply)