» Lies I told on my CV

Me and my big mouth.
Well not me exactly, but some twat with no concept of 'good things to say in an interview' and 'bad things to say in an interview'.

This nervous young lad pitched up for an interview for the post of Junior Admin Assistant or some such low-level drudgery. He wasn't too impressive, either in experience or interview technique, but I felt he really let himself down when he volunteered that he had been given a couple of verbal warnings in his last job for "staring at girls' tits" and that he was an early suspect in the Jill Dando murder case.
(Sat 8th Jul 2006, 6:55, More)

» My most treasured possession

My Clipper
I bought a garishly hand painted Clipper lighter for a pound, from a hippy market stall nearly twenty years ago. Then I lost it whilst visiting a friend in Texas. At that stage, it was merely a garishly painted disposable lighter so I moved on and went through a string of other lighters, mostly Clippers, but I experimented with other brands too. I was unable to form meaningful relationships with lighters, as people kept stealing them, or occasionally they would run out of gas and I simply couldn't muster the effort to get a can of butane. I was a mess.

A couple of years later however, my friend arrived in London from Texas, saying he had a surprise for me. With a flourish, he produced my old Clipper. He says it must have fallen down the side of his sofa, but I think he stole it, only to be overcome by remorse later on.

In the years since, my friend and I have shared the responsibility of looking after the lighter - every time one of us travels to visit the other, we've performed a ceremonious hand-over, and the other person has then been in charge of it for the year or two until our next meetup. It's been to Glastonbury, Burning Man, all round Europe, Mongolia, New Zealand, and dozens of times across the Atlantic. I estimate that it has clocked up well over 100,000 airmiles, and I am currently in discussion with Norris McWhirter as to whether it gets in the Guinness Book of World Records for the most travelled disposable lighter.

It still works, although it is only now used on very special occasions to light very special types of things. I believe it is on its third or fourth sparky wheelie flinty bit, but the original garishly painted body is still in serviceable order.

I have only been in possession of my most treasured item for roughly ten of the last twenty years, but it will be buried with me when I go.
(Sat 10th May 2008, 0:01, More)

» Family Holidays

Family holiday
The family was dragged to Yorkshire in the mid 80s, and the holiday consisted mainly of sitting inside waiting for the rain to stop. On the one day we were able to venture out, we went walking on the moors. Suffering from some minor gastric ailment, I needed a poo but we were miles from a toilet of any description, so I squatted behind a bush. The satisfaction and relief at being able to unload several litres of fizzy gravy were only short lived as I realised I had misjudged the trajectory and completely covered my grundies, jeans, socks and trainers. The feeling of helplessness as my family, unaware of my plight, walked further and further away, while I feebly attempted to clean myself with the 2 sheets of tissue paper my Mum had given me, will never leave me. I was only dimly aware of the other walkers' shocked expressions as a distraught 9 year old covered in poo, naked from the waste down, ran across the moors after his parents.

The trollies are still there somewhere.
(Fri 3rd Aug 2007, 22:51, More)

» Common

Benidorm
I was travelling by train from Alicante to Benidorm for a day trip (out of morbid curiosity you understand), and the wrinkled leathery, bingo-winged old prune in the seat opposite me said to her friend (similarly wobbly-armed and dripping in Elizabeth Duke tat) something that will haunt me for ever:

'Eee, Mavis,' she said, 'eeeee, I can't wait to get back to us hotel and get me feet in't beeeedaaay.'

Now that is common.
(Thu 23rd Oct 2008, 10:30, More)

» When animals attack...

When animals attack...
I was camping in the woods at the foot of the Brecon Beacons a few years back and the camp was visited by a cute little black puddy tat. It wouldn't come and play, preferring to sit at the edge of the clearing in which we had pitched up, staring meekly at us through the dusk. It gradually moved nearer and nearer, staring all the time, but maintaining a safe distance. Then the little bleeder snapped and started to attack, and appeared to be resistant to hissing, shouting, banging pots & pans, water, and even small stones. Two grown men were forced to spend the evening barricaded inside their tent while a small black cat prowled around outside.
(Mon 6th Jun 2005, 19:30, More)