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This is a question That One Mate

Second Best Porcupine asks, “can we have another story about that lovable scamp Alan, please?” We all know an “Alan”. Tell us about that one mate who can't help but get in to trouble.

(, Thu 2 Jul 2015, 10:54)
Pages: Popular, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

Is it time for a new one then?

(, Thu 9 Jul 2015, 23:57, Reply)
It's a good thing someone took on the thankless task of looking after this section of the site,
otherwise we'd have shit questions that hang about for more than a week.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2015, 23:14, 1 reply)

(, Thu 9 Jul 2015, 5:01, 4 replies)

(, Thu 9 Jul 2015, 4:58, 1 reply)

(, Wed 8 Jul 2015, 16:46, 7 replies)
Quiet in here, innit?

(, Wed 8 Jul 2015, 15:10, 18 replies)
Oh Johnny, where art thou?
I'm fairly sure Johnny only came to Portsmouth University because he got lost on his way home from his A-level exams. Stumbling into the admissions office, he must have been so utterly bewildered by the Hampshire accent (so different from his native Essex drawl) that he blurted out an inquisitive "English?" at the enrollment officer, which is how he ended up studying Language and Literature alongside me all those years ago. Somehow, we even ended up sharing a house for a year.

Vacant-eyed, slack of jaw, Johnny was a loveable little bundle of podge without a single opinion of his own - he'd bimble backwards and forwards through a conversation trying to please everyone, then reach the lacklustre conclusion of "well I dunno reaaaalllly", bringing his contribution to an indecisive end.

Yet somehow Johnny was blessed with superhuman powers, which could only be unleashed through serious alcohol consumption. After three pints of cheap lager, this young drone from Colchester would become agitated, perplexed, then increasingly outraged, until he would tear at his clothing in a desperate attempt to get naked like The Hulk, all the better to rain down his furious anger on the unwitting and undeserving. No pint glass would go unsmashed, no pub table left unturned, when Johnny succumbed to his alcoholic rages.

This Jekyll-and-Hyde transformation became so legendary that students from other courses, other faculties, possibly other fucking universities, would hunt him down once classes had finished and offer to buy him booze. He lapped that shit up, felt like he was the most popular man in Portsmouth, but he was little more than a wind-up toy for the millenial generation. Like a drunken Buckaroo, it was a game of finding just the right amount of alcohol to reach his tipping point, at which moment he would unleash the full force of his tiny mind and feeble muscles.

Johnny was able to curl out a log into each pocket of a pool table in a single session, squatting on the baize like an apoplectic robin forcing out some particularly large eggs. He didn't wipe after.

Johnny lay back and let strangers force-feed him Maltesers, while a rugby forward jammed a thumb under his chin to prevent him swallowing. The resulting photo, named "54", was entered into a photography competition at the local gallery, and came third.

Johnny bought a load of used porn mags from a junk store, tore out the staples, then set about plastering his bedroom walls with the loose pages, using his own semen as glue. He only managed one page before passing out, and we found him the next morning, grey y-fronts round his ankles, unable to stand because his arm had gone numb and he couldn't get off the floor. The sight of his bare arse atop a sea of bemulleted naked women, voice plaintively mewling "help me mate, I can't get up, I think I'm done for" is forever etched in my mind.

And yet, despite the complete destruction of our university house, the endless visits from the police, the lingering stench of ferret shit from one of his odd pet experiments, and the sight of his mum burning everything he owned in our back garden, I sort of miss that flubbery sack of gormlessness and malice. I haven't seen him for over a decade, but I hope he's avoided prison.
(, Tue 7 Jul 2015, 8:20, 10 replies)
Whassupp motherfuckers. Isn't this site dead YET?
TL:DR - Alan's a nonce..

My ex-mate Alan, who we shall call Ray because etc. skived, coasted and basically fiddled his way through life after leaving college. Don't think he ever had a proper job from 1991 to 2001, except for a YTS at a hi-fi store for a year after being booted out of college for hardly ever turning up. Went on an IT training course because he'd get an extra tenner in his dole. Found out if he got a work placement, he'd still get his extra tenner. Got a builder he knew to say he was working there, took 18 weeks off doing fuck all.
Anyway, in February 2001 he was arrested for having kiddie porn on his computer and also allegedly interfering with his 13yo brother in law. How we all laughed. Then in the September, he sold all his stuff, skipped bail and fled to France. With his pregnant wife and 3yo daughter. Did he succeed at this? No. Because rather than staying at cheap B&Bs and such, being smart and lying low, he booked them into a hotel in Cannes for two weeks. Ran out of cash, had to come home. Got put on remand, and eventually got 4 years. And that was pleading guilty. If you plead guilty, they knock a third off the sentence. So whatever the final indictment was, it carried a 6yr sentence.

In October 2013, the police knocked on my door and told me that he'd gotten a passport in my name, and his wife and daughter a passport in the names of another friend and her daughter. I've never had cause to apply for a passport, but if I do, I'm going to have to go to Durham with all the ID I can muster and tell them that I am who I say I am.

So Ray, you're a colossal cunt and hope you get bully raped by someone with horse AIDS, and then the hospital burns down.
(, Mon 6 Jul 2015, 19:53, 15 replies)
Not bad, just sad.
My mate Alan wasn't a bad person, but he did get odd and strange ideas that he would put in to practice without regard to the consequences.

For example he was in a friends house and decided their very expensive Japanese kitchen knife set, that was a wedding present, needed improvement. So he put them in the gas fire. He ruined them, but was adamant they were better because they were now "tempered".

On another occasion he decided that drinking six raw eggs for breakfast every morning was good for his health. Despite a lengthy hospital stay it took three months before he gave up.

He had a belief that if the checkout total of his shopping was even one penny out he was entitled to all of his shopping for free. He would put about £200 worth of stuff in his trolley and carefully add up his own total. If the checkout total was different he'd get in to an argument that he never won. After losing the argument he would just walk out leaving the shopping behind. Eventually he got barred from most of the local supermarkets.

His one really big strange belief and the saddest one was his belief that he could cross the road anywhere he wanted (even dual carriageways) and cars were legally obliged to stop for him. We tried to argue with him that cars were indeed supposed to stop for pedestrians, but being required to stop was different from being able to stop. Two years ago I was reading the local paper and there was a a story about Alan, he had been killed crossing a dual carriageway.
(, Mon 6 Jul 2015, 17:22, 14 replies)

(, Mon 6 Jul 2015, 16:47, 18 replies)
I have an old friend who I am happy to call Alan for the purpose of this story.
I met him at agricultural college and somehow e got on, mainly due to being misfits to everyone else. After a few years I looked back and wondered why I was still friends with this guy as he wasn't actually much of a friend. Things he did over about three years.

1. Would borrow money with no intention of paying back.
2. Sell me weed purposely short of measure knowing that I'd trust a friend (I was young and blind).
3. Fuck my girlfriend at the time. I know he wasn't the only one to blame, but still.
4.Vandalise things at random.
6. Be cheeky to strangers nearly getting the rest of us a kicking (Exmouth is a bad place to do that)
7. 'Borrow' things and bring them back fucked
8. Maintain a woeful level of personal hygiene
9. Piss off the parents of other friends
10. Order things at a pub or cafe knowing that he didn't have the cash to pay for it leaving others to pick up the tab
11. Somehow get us into situations where we thought we were going to get arrested for just being with him
12. He'd borrow his disabled mums car (fitted with hand controls) and trash it

Two incidents in particular. Next to the college is a tourist attraction. We'd all go in there and piss about at night. 'Alan' would break things and set things on fire. One night, he showed up at my house with the entire contents of the ice cream booths freezer. We had to bring in other people to help dispose of the evidence in case the college was alerted and did a room search. Later he went back into the place, broke into a workshop and stole tools and CB radios. Oh, and a small halon fire extinguisher which was then let off in the house.

The other main incident was not long after I met him. I had to lend him money to stop him going to court. He and another fuck up had gone to a farm, at night. They parked his highly distinctive motorbike in a nearby layby where everyone could see it. They raided the farm and stole things. They left a Bobcat lying on it's side after they'd managed to start it. They pushed round hay bales into a river flooding a field and I'm sure there was probably more. The next day the farmer saw him on his distinctive spotty bike and blocked the lane to question him. When the farmer opened the bikes luggage box, he found some of his missing possessions. The farmer's girlfriend luckily stopped a serious beating taking place and an arrangement was made for the return of items and payment for damage within a week to avoid arrest. 'Alan' borrowed money near and far - the only time he ever paid me back.

Last time I saw him he'd barely changed. In the last couple of years he seems to have actually developed a conscience and turned into a real person.

I never knew quite why we were friends, but I look back at most of it with high amusement and I always have a story to tell. Oddly, I'm glad we stayed friends all these years.
(, Mon 6 Jul 2015, 9:00, 5 replies)
Allen has two belts and a highly variable waistline.
The Americans made a new one in the 1960s that lasted a couple of months.
(, Sun 5 Jul 2015, 22:09, Reply)
racist twattery and redemption - sort of
Dan was a strange one. Massive stoner, mostly liked to lay around listening to the doors. A group of us hung out smoking pot and thinking we were hilarious. One of the crowd was Achmed, who was from the Sudan.

With no real warning or even change in attitude, Dan uttered one day over a spliff "Oh yeah, sorry Akkers, I can't hang out with you any more. You see, I've joined the National Front." All this in a very matter of fact voice, as if it was no big deal. Funnily enough, we all thought it was fucking ridiculous and told him so. A lot.

For a few days all was quiet on the Dan front, and then he reappeared. He'd had a thought about what we all said, and decided we were right, so he'd left the NF. And gone and joined the anti-nazi league, who mostly beat up NF people. A couple of days later the local newspaper reported that the local NF leader had been attacked in his own home and hospitalised.

It turns out Dan just liked a fight. He moved onto the hunt saboteurs, and hinted at a small reunion a few years later about a spot of football hooliganism. I seem to remember at that point everyone told him to just fuck off. I saw him again several years later being kicked out of a pub during the world cup. I think he drives a taxi these days.
(, Sun 5 Jul 2015, 21:45, Reply)
That one mate is a bottle of fun, I puts him in the bath, he's loved by everyone, he's always in for a laugh.
And while they splash in the tub, that one mate gets them clean, so I don't have to scrub, no matter where they've been.
I've one more thing to tell: that one mate leaves things bright, so he cleans the bath as well, there ain't a mark in sight.
(, Sun 5 Jul 2015, 13:28, 5 replies)
My uncle is an Alan. I used to work with him for my Dad in the mid 90's and he was a proper tool. I'd offered to do some tree surgery for extra cash for them both at our workplace ... I had a how to trim Bonsai trees book and no experience but it worked a charm. Alan had given me most of the money as the work was completing and said he wanted it finished completely by a certain day. That day, it was pissing it down with rain so I decided it wouldn't be the end of the world if I carried on the next day. Not according to uncle Alan. He waited till I'd finished the work then didn't pay me the money owed for "tax reasons" depite the fact I was being paid cash in hand by my own family .. I kicked off at him and have seen him once since that,and only then because my Dad tricked me into it. Bell end.
(, Sun 5 Jul 2015, 12:21, 6 replies)
A roasted pea
There are a couple of people on here who know me IRL. WE have a mate called Gerry (but, for the purposes of this week's question, read Alan for Gerry). A lovely man, but the kind of guy where the eyes don't quite line up with the holes - Y'know, the kind of guy where reality and normality are just things that happen to other people.
Gerry is known as 'The late Gerry'. He's not dead, just late. For FUCKING EVERYTHING. There is a concept in the Hitchhikers guide to the galaxy books of the 'reciprinverexcluson' a number or thing which is everything other than itself. THAT's Gerry's idea of time. If he tells you he'll 'be there at two' that's the only time he WILL NOT be there, the universe would implode if Gerry was actually on time. At his last milestone birthday he got, as presents, fifteen alarm clocks and twelve wristwatches (three of them from me).
He didn't get the hint.
A few weeks ago he arranged (at about 11 a:m) to meet Pooflake at the pub to get his laptop sorted out. Pooflake informed him that he HAD TO BE GONE BY 4 - not a nanosecond later. What time did Gerry turn up?
10 to 4.
And then proceeded to get the hump that Pooflake wouldn't stay after 4.

I love the guy but how much of a bellend do you have to be to have no concept of time and no respect for other people's commitments at over 50 years of age?
(, Sat 4 Jul 2015, 19:11, 1 reply)
There's a bloke works down the chip shop
swears he's Alan
(, Sat 4 Jul 2015, 0:14, 2 replies)
I knew a bloke called alan. A plumber with a red face, crushing handshake and a love for drink
He also liked swearing. "Fucking get fucking-well fucked" and similar. As he got older his behaviour got worse. Where once he'd been funny and irreverant he slowly turned boorish and cruel. Often he'd turn up unannounced with a six-pack, drink it all himself and some of our grog. Sometimes he'd pass out and shit his pants. Some old friends refused to speak with him after he told them he wished he'd fucked their daughters. He left his wife for this wierd English lady. She was bookish and introverted, but they had drinking in common. His adult kids hated her. His doctor told him he'd die if he kept drinking. He kept drinking and died of liver failure and other complications.
(, Fri 3 Jul 2015, 23:52, 3 replies)
alan muc duspmters XIV

(, Fri 3 Jul 2015, 20:20, Reply)
I only know one Alan
but we don't call him Alan, we call him Coffee
(, Fri 3 Jul 2015, 20:17, 5 replies)
"Alan?" aid Mr Beaver.
"Why, don't you know? He' the King. He' the Lord of the whole wood, but not often here, you undertand. Never in my time or my father' time. But the word ha reached u that he ha come back. He i in Narnia at thi moment. He'll ettle the White Queen all right. It i he, not you, that will ave Mr Tumnu."
(, Fri 3 Jul 2015, 20:15, 5 replies)
I knew an Alan
until he shit himself
(, Fri 3 Jul 2015, 18:53, Reply)

(, Fri 3 Jul 2015, 18:27, 1 reply)

I dont know an Alan, but I do know a load of blokes in the middle east keep blowing things up in the name of him, does that count?
(, Fri 3 Jul 2015, 15:45, 4 replies)
I had an ex called Alan about 15 years back, who had temper issues
He once cracked someone's windscreen for nipping into a parking space that he was starting to reverse into.

While punching the offending car, he screamed, "Bitch, cunt, whore!" at the white-faced lady driver, then after a pause, added, "I'm a Christian."

We split up.
(, Fri 3 Jul 2015, 14:20, 6 replies)
My mate, Chinese Arron, is a complete liability.
Whenever we get something to eat he complains constantly about how rubbery the food is.
(, Fri 3 Jul 2015, 13:17, 1 reply)
in wales, they have to put signs up telling allan where the exit is
allan must be thick
(, Fri 3 Jul 2015, 10:34, 4 replies)

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