» School Days

I have the pleasure
Of currently attending a school for teenagers with mental health issues (I'm 17, but what with me being an in-patient at the unit in question I am lumped in with the rest). You think your school was funny?

We have the small squeaky little twat* from hell, who squeals with delight at anything to do with fairies, Disney or kittens (OK fair enough I too let out a little bit of wee at kitties) and howls like a banshee whenever things don't go her way. Probably weighs all of about six stone soaking wet, roughly five foot tall and has picked a fight with me on no less than five occasions - I am 6'8". Has also punched me in the face. Hilarity level: 8/10.

The token mentalist is a sixteen-year old black girl who is indescribably rude and generally horrid to all and sundry. Regularly pushes people aside, either talks to people like shit or totally blanks them and jumps queues (personal pet hate - as in, really can't stand it). She hit me around the head with a chair once for no reason whatsoever, and then screamed at me for having no manners and being in her way. Hilarity level: 7/10.

But the icing on the cake shall be known simply as Sleepy. He's a genuinely lovely lad, wonderfully funny and pretty wicked at footy. Due to his medication, he likes to sleep a lot and moves at a relative snail's pace. Regularly lies down on the floor in lessons and drifts off. Has brilliant ways of winding the people who are dickheads* up, such as following them round flicking the back of their head, throwing wet paper towels at them and once poured a whole (plastic, no less) bottle of milk over squeaky twat's head, causing her to release a staccato series of shrieks that has left me with permanent hearing damage. Hilarity? Off the scale.

Apologies for lack of real funny. I don't really feel comfortable going into full-on examples at the moment, lest somebody stab me to death with a pair of round-ended scissors.

Length? Three months and counting, one of them under duress.

*Anyone who is about to badger me with "It isn't their fault, they have problems" - Get fucked. They'd be cunts without any issues. Shut up. I'm nuts. I'll kill you.
(Thu 29th Jan 2009, 20:33, More)

» Evil Pranks

Not so much pranks
As a long-term investigation into the placebo effect that I've been conducting for approximately 5 years.

A good 90% of my mates, like myself, get their fun through the consumption of various chemicals. Things I have done include:

Giving out lines of coffee whitener/ baking soda, rolling 3-skinner cigs and passing them round, sorting my mate some Valium which were really paracetamol, same principle as previous but with ecstasy/ flu pills and the piéce de résistance, printing designs onto and then meticulously perforating a piece of A4 sketch paper so that it resembled acid.

The funny thing is, I have yet to receive any complaints, and on several occasions have been congratulated on my procurement of exceedingly fine substances.

I'm a cunt, yes, but there's nothing funnier than seeing your mate's sister "coked out of her mind" on baking soda, and your mate himself tripping the light fantastic with unsprayed blotter.
(Wed 19th Dec 2007, 17:26, More)

» Evil Pranks

I was a cruel child
When I was but a wee hypnoticme of about six or seven, I ran screaming and crying into my parents' bedroom, my hand resembling a scene from the director's cut of Saw III. Cue usual early morning "fuck off" from father, and copious shrill screams from my mother as she dragged me downstairs, tearing through cupboards as she searched for a towel to stem the rather profuse bleeding from my deathly digit damage.

It was a good couple of minutes of frantic, panicking parent before she noticed the tomato ketchup five feet to her left where I had (in a weird junior homage to my future stoned self) forgetfully left it on the worktop. Cue hypnoticmum grabbing the stumps of my ring and little fingers, only to find them intact and in fact curled into my hand.

I still bear the scars of that punishment to this day.

No apologies for length or width of hypnoticdad's belt marks on my arse.
(Mon 17th Dec 2007, 10:46, More)

» Evil Pranks

On a somewhat darker note
The scrapings of nearly 40 different powder related sealy bags, or my "lucky dip" as it was called at the time - there was about half a gram of all these assorted delights stashed for a rainy day.

A friend chased a rather large line of what he believed to be some nice harmless (!) Charles, however as the night wore on it became somewhat widely known that it was more likely to be an about equal mix of MDMA and speed, finding myself that coke is far too expensive and shite and therefore not bothering with it very often.

He was promptly informed of this just after insufflation. Approximately an hour later he was running round the venue (a conservative club) at top whack giving people he had never seen before bone crushing ecstawhizz hugs, including some of the elderly folk who were downstairs, enjoying a nice cold subsidised pint.

He had a cracking night, and nearly pulled a 48 year old woman.

We were 15.
(Wed 19th Dec 2007, 18:20, More)

» Stalked

I've been on both sides of the divide.
I minorly stalked one of my now best friends for the larger part of secondary school - anonymous texts, sent her love letters, badgered her to death, etc. Over time we built up a brilliant friendship - I realised what I was doing and told myself it had to stop, and apart from the occasional drunken text to tell her I loved her it did. She doesn't resent me for it at all, and never let it be said that stalking gets you nowhere... ;)

However, the more interesting story is that of my first girlfriend. We will call her Louise.

Probably late 2003-ish, I met a girl through a forum (her name escapes me now - Girl A will do) who lived the other side of town. I didn't really take to her, she gave my email out to all her friends and so they all got blocked.

Fast forward to April 2006. I notice someone on my contact list who I've not seen online before; they're blocked. I unblock them, turns out it's one of Girl A's friends, Louise. She seems like a pretty good laugh, we start talking and get on fairly well, into the same kind of music etc.

We talk some more, and the inevitable webcam funfest happens - I am by now most definitely getting my end away I meet up with this girl. The internet relationship begins in late May.

Early June, and it's my birthday. My dad's just got back up on his feet after my parents' divorce, and he decrees that a party is in order to celebrate my 15th year on the planet. I invite Louise to the party (bear in mind she doesn't know anyone and I've never met her before this point), not really expecting her to turn up.

Only she does. She's a bit on the chubby side (well hidden in photos and webcam), but very pretty nonetheless. So hypnoticme spends his 15th birthday in his room with Louise, who he has met 30 minutes before and exchanged only pleasantries with. Fun is had. All is well.

Fast forward two months; my virginity is now but a distant memory, and apart from some minor hitches it has been sex sex sex and everything's wonderful. Although I am rapidly tiring of Louise - turns out that once it comes down to it, we barely know each other and we're just shagging to make up for it. "Fcuk this," thinks me, "I'm getting out of here."

And so I gently break it to Louise that it's just not working - over MSN, as any true man should. Enter the heavily tearful call with psychotic, Napoleon-complex father (I was about 6'5" at this point) seizing her phone and telling me that I was going to get butchered by his army mates. I laugh - he was in the TA for 6 months, and claimed to have served in the RLI until 1987 (it disbanded 1/11/1980) - call is ended and phone goes off. Ho hum, I have exams to worry about when I go back to school, fuck the heavily Catholic criminal tribe that is her family, I don't need their crap.

The next day, phone is switched back on. Inbox is full of texts, that culminate in her going throwing herself off a railway bridge if I don't text back. This was at ridiculous o'clock in the morning and it's now mid-afternoon. Oooops. And so, I ring her. Obviously, she isn't now travelling courtesy of one of Arriva's windscreens, and we have a conversation. I tell her to get some help, she cries a bit, but agrees that it's for the best that we split up.

But now, it's mid-2007 and I can't escape her. Over the past year, she has systematically added my entire MySpace contact list. She has told them all sorts of lies about me that have led to full-blown screaming arguments in the street with people I've never seen before. Groups of metalheads in their 20s and 30s regularly harass me. She has stalked the friends that listened to her in the first place - every single one of them finds her creepy. She regularly falls in and out of love with these people, irrespective of gender. She has followed THREE of my female mates home and declares them her best friends. She messages me weekly asking me how things are going and rubbing in how great her life is with my friends, detailing trips out and days in, not knowing how much she scares them - they're just too nice to fuck her off.

Suddenly, all goes quiet. I hear nothing from her. Bliss, I now have peace for my exams. Ensuing months are Louise-free.

Yesterday, she messaged me on MySpace. The message ended in "i love you lots xxx".

I'm scared.

Before you ask, too lengthy for her, and my girth is the stuff of legend.
(Fri 1st Feb 2008, 3:26, More)