Profile for littlenicola:
Small, occasional Glaswegian with small occasional compo entries. But b3ta regularly makes me spit crisps, so I'm here to stay.
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Small, occasional Glaswegian with small occasional compo entries. But b3ta regularly makes me spit crisps, so I'm here to stay.
Recent front page messages:
none
Best answers to questions:
» Scary Neighbours
Several years in student bedsits
introduced me to the following
- Mr Stirling, who went out every morning at the dot of the offies opening for twelve cans of Tennents Lager. He'd come back, sit in his room and swear to himself all day, pausing only occasionally to piss/shit in a bucket. He'd save it up till it was brimming over, and then take it downstairs to the communal loo to empty it. He got put into an old folks home after his arse literally exploded on the landing one day.
- Mr Todd. Looked like Frankenstein's assistant. Could have been anywhere between 35 and 75. His mother rang him at 6 bloody am daily, on the communal phone outside my flat, and he would shriek to her in an incredibly high pitched voice. Me and my only sane flatmate got custody of his keys one day to let workmen in in his absence. We sneaked a look at his tiny room - every available flat surface was covered in tinfoil.
-Victor. Technically was my neighbour, but I found out more about his oddness when I moved into his old room. Contents of the wardrobe included a ladies' coat and a pibroch. However the clincher was the two MASSIVE murals of New York skyscrapers, which Victor had done by blu-takking over 700 dominoes to the wall. They refused to budge as well.
- And finally Bruce from Zimbabwe. Actually quite attractive, and seemed quite normal until he started knocking on my door at all hours to ask if he could a) get a snog and/or b) watch his porn on my video recorder. Just before I moved out, he got a new girlfriend who looked worryingly like me.
If you're looking for stuff to fill your memoirs, people, I heartily recommend bedsit-land in Glasgow.
(Wed 31st Aug 2005, 16:15, More)
Several years in student bedsits
introduced me to the following
- Mr Stirling, who went out every morning at the dot of the offies opening for twelve cans of Tennents Lager. He'd come back, sit in his room and swear to himself all day, pausing only occasionally to piss/shit in a bucket. He'd save it up till it was brimming over, and then take it downstairs to the communal loo to empty it. He got put into an old folks home after his arse literally exploded on the landing one day.
- Mr Todd. Looked like Frankenstein's assistant. Could have been anywhere between 35 and 75. His mother rang him at 6 bloody am daily, on the communal phone outside my flat, and he would shriek to her in an incredibly high pitched voice. Me and my only sane flatmate got custody of his keys one day to let workmen in in his absence. We sneaked a look at his tiny room - every available flat surface was covered in tinfoil.
-Victor. Technically was my neighbour, but I found out more about his oddness when I moved into his old room. Contents of the wardrobe included a ladies' coat and a pibroch. However the clincher was the two MASSIVE murals of New York skyscrapers, which Victor had done by blu-takking over 700 dominoes to the wall. They refused to budge as well.
- And finally Bruce from Zimbabwe. Actually quite attractive, and seemed quite normal until he started knocking on my door at all hours to ask if he could a) get a snog and/or b) watch his porn on my video recorder. Just before I moved out, he got a new girlfriend who looked worryingly like me.
If you're looking for stuff to fill your memoirs, people, I heartily recommend bedsit-land in Glasgow.
(Wed 31st Aug 2005, 16:15, More)
» Old People Talk Bollocks
Not my mum, but a friend's mum...
...who likes her Coke and Rums. Friend came home one evening, having left her mum looking after her flat, to find the television up full blast, and her mum in a panic in front of it, surrounded by every remote control in the house screaming "Why won't this bloody work?" It was because the thing she was frantically pointing and jabbing at the TV was - a mobile phone. She also asked when they came to collect the pound coins from said phones; she honestly thought that pay-as-you-go mobiles had coin slots. Among her other delightful foibles were barking random statements like "Do you like tights?!" and "Actually, I'm a very sexual person!"
However, she topped all this one evening when lying pissed on her daughter's sofa, peering myopically (and drunkenly) at Whitney Houston warbling away on VH-1. Turning to her offspring she opined "That Celine Dion's getting helluva negroid-looking!"
(Fri 12th Mar 2004, 17:16, More)
Not my mum, but a friend's mum...
...who likes her Coke and Rums. Friend came home one evening, having left her mum looking after her flat, to find the television up full blast, and her mum in a panic in front of it, surrounded by every remote control in the house screaming "Why won't this bloody work?" It was because the thing she was frantically pointing and jabbing at the TV was - a mobile phone. She also asked when they came to collect the pound coins from said phones; she honestly thought that pay-as-you-go mobiles had coin slots. Among her other delightful foibles were barking random statements like "Do you like tights?!" and "Actually, I'm a very sexual person!"
However, she topped all this one evening when lying pissed on her daughter's sofa, peering myopically (and drunkenly) at Whitney Houston warbling away on VH-1. Turning to her offspring she opined "That Celine Dion's getting helluva negroid-looking!"
(Fri 12th Mar 2004, 17:16, More)