» Guilty Secrets

I used to live...
...Out in the sticks, and my Friday and Saturday nights out were preceded by a 2.5 mile walk and followed by a 2.5 mile stagger back home, along a country track. One time - proper fucking high on E and a bit drunk - I really needed a dump; so I quickened my pace. I got back to our driveway at home, and got my keys out, but it was no good - it had to happen RIGHT NOW or it was in my jeans. I squatted on our gravel driveway and let my bowels go. Quite possibly in full view of the whole street, but hopefully all of my neighbours were in bed!

Faced with the dilemma of a huge wet dump to dispose of at 4 in the morning, I had no idea what to do. Couldn't wash it away with the hosepipe - might wake my parents up and i'd be rumbled! So i sloped off to bed. I arose the next afternoon for my dinner, greeted by this from my mum: "We must've had a deer or something in the garden last night, fucking huge pile of shit in the drive"

I spent the rest of the day pissing myself laughing and nobody twigged. Still makes me laugh to this day.
(Sun 2nd Sep 2007, 22:40, More)

» Dumb things you've done

As mentioned in a previous post...
i used to live in a sleepy village when I lived with my family. My friends were all from the next town, so I always had to walk / cycle 2-3 miles through the countryside on an old railway embankment, before my friday and saturday nights could kick off. So far, so interesting... Anyway, after one particularly heavy night of booze and drugs (don't mix them, kids); I was going along this track in the dark at about 3am, and my pedals just locked suddenly - sending me flying over the handlebars, and landing in a heap. Once i'd got over the pain and sworn at it a few times, I clambered back onto my bike. Almost immediately, the same thing happened again! This time i'd had enough, lifted the bike over my head, and with a mighty "RAAAAaaaaarrrrrr!" threw it over the side of the embankment, and down into the surrounding fields several metres below.

I still had to get home, so I dusted my hands, probably did a little cackle, and staggered off. A good walk later, I convinced myself I was going in the wrong direction (it was very dark out there), and turned around... A very long walk later and I found myself back at the familiar lights of the town (i'd been going the right way before). Eventually made it home, the whole trip took more than two hours in the end.

I woke up the next morning with a cracker of a hangover, when I remembered my bike. Now apart from the fact it chucked you over the handlebars, it was a pretty good machine and was worth a bit of money. Unfortunately, even with the aid of my trusty dog, it couldn't be found; probably picked up by a tramp, a farmer, or as I like to believe, a small troupe of foxes.
(Sun 23rd Dec 2007, 20:22, More)

» I Drank Meths (pointless teenage things you did to shock)

Teenage drinking
Started when I was 13 when my best mate robbed a bottle of blue nun from his dad's garage - loved it! Couple of years of this kind of thing later, one saturday I quickly drank a 2l bottle of Icedragon - 8.5% cider of the tramp variety. Last thing I remember was throwing the empty (plastic) bottle at some innocent passers by. The rest is a haze but apparently we made it to the high street, where I ended up laying on the floor, barely conscious at times, throwing up, arguing with friends and generally being a complete twat.
Despite my friends best efforts to shift me from the area, the police showed up and I ended up pissing myself in the back of the car. Nice one! Stayed at the station for a while to 'sober up' while some officers visited my mother to let her know about her darling son's activities. Apparently, I was visited by a doctor at the station, who said that I must've been on drugs as well (i wasn't) and I vaguely recall trying to punch him for shining a light in my eye. Needless to say I recieved some shouting therapy in the morning from my mum, who was less than proud of me at that time. Took a couple of years for me to live that fucker down! Only 10 years later do I have the stomach for cider again (I know my limits now).
(Sat 21st Jul 2007, 20:19, More)

» * PFFT *

When I was a student...
... After a week long diet of lager and Nottingham's finest kebabs, I had chronic stomach pains and did runny shits all day. That evening, all my friends were heading out into town again - and despite my protests at not being up to it, I was dragged along for the ride. All along the long walk to the bar I kept doubling up with cramps, but we made it and started drinking merrily away.

Stood in the middle of the absolutely packed room, chatting; about 45 mins in, I get the urge to release some gases.. I think "it's only a little one... I'll just do it here!". Genius. What followed was a long wet fart of apocalyptic proportions. The sound was pretty impressive to me, but it was drowned out by the music and talking, so it went unnoticed at first. But the smell... Christ the smell. Like a sack of dead bodies, who'd all crapped themselves. While eating nuts of some kind. It must've spread quite far across the room, as a rather large, and growing circle was beginning to clear around me as people tried to escape this stench. Girls screamed, lads groaned loudly and covered their faces with coats. I panicked, moved to the edge of the room, and pointed at Phil (who had tried harder than anyone else to get me to come drinking - sorry mate), all the while trying (and failing) not to piss myself laughing. I know, i'm an awful, smelly person, and my sincere apologies to all who witnessed this godzilla style event.
(Sun 15th Jul 2007, 20:38, More)

» Desperate Times

Tight
My old mate Gary used to always ask for fags off people - guys at 6th form college, mates, family, me... And point-blank refused to work part-time to support this habit.

He used to check empty cigarette packets lying in the street, in case people dropped them, which unsurprisingly was a waste of time. Except for one occasion, where he found a pack of superkings with three left! They were brown, from getting damp i think.. (rain? piss? who knows?) And they stank when he smoked them - he was made up with that find!

The worst part was his mother smoked, and he used to raid the ashtray at home... He would crumble the old tobacco from the cigarrette buts, and use this to make new roll-up cigarrettes! I had the misfortune to try one of these, and it felt like i was licking an ashtray clean - Mmmmm...Scabby!
(Sat 17th Nov 2007, 12:59, More)