» Pointless Experiments

In his youth..
.. my uncle was left to look after my grandparent's house whilst they went away for a week.

They were slightly apprehensive about leaving him in charge due to the fact that last time he was, the television started smoking for some reason and ended up being lauched out into the garden. Through the window. It rained that night and poor little TV was ruined.

On this occassion it was poor little pet cat that was ruined.

Obviously a painful moment in any family when a pet dies but my granny is a cat fanatic so everyone knew just how upset she would be.

Thinking it would be a good idea, my uncle decided to find out exactly how the cat had died (probably to save him from getting the blame) so the shed turned into an operating table.

He then proceeded to cut open my granny's beloved pet to discover that it had eaten a rat that had eaten rat poison which my grandad had put down). Result! He wasn't to blame.
(Mon 28th Jul 2008, 12:11, More)

» Celebrities part II

The Mallard
Was a garden ornament that was shaped, well, like a mallard.

It was purchased before a Manic Street Preachers gig in Southampton a few years back (which saw me appearing in a US documentary about the band prancing around on Southampton Guildhall stairs with said ornament).
It was decided from then that it would be taken to every gig we went to afterwards as a little mascot.

My close friend and I were known as "Those guys with the Mallard" after a while due to its popularity (and our insistence that it was a mallard and NOT A FUCKING DUCK!!).

But I digress.

At a Bloc Party gig in Portsmouth Guildhall a little while after, Kele Okereke spotted it in the front row and, upon it being held aloft, decided to take the bloody thing and make a speech to the crowd about how generous the people of Portsmouth were (Ha!) for giving him such a thoughtful gift.
This speech was interrupted with my voice politely requesting "GIVE US BACK OUR MALLARD YOU THIEVING CUNT!". He looked shocked but duly obliged.

The Mallard let fame get to his head after that with his new star-status and hanging out with his A-list pals. After a stint in rehab, he now finds himself being used as a doorstop in my flat.
(Sun 11th Oct 2009, 20:57, More)

» Banks

An example of a phone call
DRONE: Hello there, is that Mr WillyNilly speaking?

WillyNilly: Yes, yes it is.

D: Well hello there Mr WillyNilly, my name is DRONE calling from Mastercard collections department, you appear to have been late on your payment this month for £25.37. Would there be any way you could make some sort of payment to us today?

W: No, no there isn't.

D: And why is that, sir? Are you suffering some financial problems at the moment?

W: No it's not that. It's just that I can't get to a bank on a sunday because they're closed so why should I let you get money out of me on my one fucking day off of the week!?

(Yes I am fully aware that people have different shift patterns and everything but I just find it a complete double standard for them to ring me on a sunday morning)
(Fri 17th Jul 2009, 16:47, More)

» Stalked

Remembered Another
Anyone who travels on buses in Newport will know of Crazy Val. A large, ageing Welsh woman who sounds remarkably like Mrs Doubtfire (but, erm, Welsh).
Anyhoo, Val will talk to literally ANYONE and is known by all of the drivers due to the fact that she travels the buses back and forth all day, every day, only pausing to find some form of junk food.

My first experience with her occured when innocently waiting at the busstop listening to my iPod and then to suddenly have 'Lovecats' interrupted by her talking to me.

Val: 'Scuse me, love, are you a uni student?
Me: Yes, yes i am. Why do you ask?
Val: I just thought i'd tell you that there's loads of good sweet shops up near there

I then found my journey soundtracked by Val's favourite sweets for 20 minutes. Twas a relief when my stop approached and I could make a swift exit.

It didn't end there though, that was just the beginning. She chatted to me again (about where to get the best sweets) when I was with my lovely girlfriend, who she has now decided to stalk as well. Scary Shit.

After a year and a half of this, I can bear it. Val is harmless and just a bit lonely so I feel that i'm doing a good deed by listening to her ramblings, even though I just nod and agree with her.

She still freaks my girlfriend out but I don't mind, I know where the best sweet shops are.
(Sun 3rd Feb 2008, 14:03, More)

» Shit Stories: Part Number Two

I'm always edgy
about having a number two in someone else's house. There is just some kind of taboo surrounding the act which just makes me try and hold it in for much longer than usual.

Last weekend though, I was invited to visit the in-laws and stay with the family to celebrate easter which meant that there was going to be an inevitable poo or two at some point.
Sadly, it came later rather than sooner.
This proved not to be a problem. I finished. I flushed. I then quickly realised that I had to flush again due to the sheer size of one of my mud-children. This wasn't good.
I then sheepishly grabbed my girlfriend away from her family to explain the 'shit-uation' and made her pretend to go to the toilet so another flush wouldn't seem suspicious. This carried for another 6 flushes (spread over the space of an hour and now involving her sister!) before it finally went. It wasn't long before relief was replaced with extreme shame.

Length: 7 inches and 6 flushes and a lot of apologies to save my relationship
(Sun 30th Mar 2008, 14:01, More)