Babysitters
Dazbrilliantwhites asks: You've had them and maybe even have been one. Or maybe you were once babysat by someone who is now a notorious serial killer. Tell us your stories.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:15)
Dazbrilliantwhites asks: You've had them and maybe even have been one. Or maybe you were once babysat by someone who is now a notorious serial killer. Tell us your stories.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:15)
This question is now closed.
A girl i used to go to school with:
her mam used to babysit Finley Quaye...
true story
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 13:39, Reply)
her mam used to babysit Finley Quaye...
true story
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 13:39, Reply)
I bought a half-size Indian lute
I'm quite pleased with my baby sitar.
edit: bugger, bindun.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 13:37, 1 reply)
I'm quite pleased with my baby sitar.
edit: bugger, bindun.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 13:37, 1 reply)
I was in San Francisco not long ago
when there was a problem with the local insects. A particular strain of bee local to the area had developed into large, angry swarms, with the bees doubling in size.
A female friend was out in a local park, as no serious swarms had been spotted in a couple of days. All was going well until a butterfly came over and landed on her arm. It made her jump a bit - everyone was a bit paranoid at the time - but she was ok. But she jumped even more 10 minutes later, when the Bay bees hit her.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 13:35, Reply)
when there was a problem with the local insects. A particular strain of bee local to the area had developed into large, angry swarms, with the bees doubling in size.
A female friend was out in a local park, as no serious swarms had been spotted in a couple of days. All was going well until a butterfly came over and landed on her arm. It made her jump a bit - everyone was a bit paranoid at the time - but she was ok. But she jumped even more 10 minutes later, when the Bay bees hit her.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 13:35, Reply)
I used to host a pub quiz in Hollywood.
Every night top movie directors would come and try to identify, from the slides I would project on the wall, skin complaints of various insects.
One night the director of Transformers had his hand up, I indicated that he should answer, he was correct and the crowd gasped in astonishment.
It went as follows;
"Bay?"
"Bee zit"
"Aaaah!"
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 13:29, Reply)
Every night top movie directors would come and try to identify, from the slides I would project on the wall, skin complaints of various insects.
One night the director of Transformers had his hand up, I indicated that he should answer, he was correct and the crowd gasped in astonishment.
It went as follows;
"Bay?"
"Bee zit"
"Aaaah!"
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 13:29, Reply)
The faithless slime...
My mums friend once babysat for me when i was younger. She compared me to the exorcist child after throwing up all over the house, including in her face. She never babysat me again.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 13:28, Reply)
My mums friend once babysat for me when i was younger. She compared me to the exorcist child after throwing up all over the house, including in her face. She never babysat me again.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 13:28, Reply)
Happy Days
When I was 18 I was lucky enough to have a very lovely, large breasted, blonde haired, 16 year old girlfriend. We will call her "Jo" (for that was her name).
Jo's dad was huge, scary looking, a builder. Jo and I would get left to baby sit her younger sister on occasion. On one such occasion, we were doing what teenagers do in her bedroom after young sister had gone to bed when her parents arrived home unexpectedly and her mother walked straight into her room to find us in an extremely compromising position (we were having sex).
Fearing the wrath of a 16 year old daughter's father (as I mentioned, he was a big, scary looking man), I crept downstairs sometime later to be confronted by him.
His reaction? A big smile and the words "you were meant to be baby sitting, not making them!"
Amazing.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 13:20, 25 replies)
When I was 18 I was lucky enough to have a very lovely, large breasted, blonde haired, 16 year old girlfriend. We will call her "Jo" (for that was her name).
Jo's dad was huge, scary looking, a builder. Jo and I would get left to baby sit her younger sister on occasion. On one such occasion, we were doing what teenagers do in her bedroom after young sister had gone to bed when her parents arrived home unexpectedly and her mother walked straight into her room to find us in an extremely compromising position (we were having sex).
Fearing the wrath of a 16 year old daughter's father (as I mentioned, he was a big, scary looking man), I crept downstairs sometime later to be confronted by him.
His reaction? A big smile and the words "you were meant to be baby sitting, not making them!"
Amazing.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 13:20, 25 replies)
So, right, one time I was working in this shop, right.
And, um, we sold stuff for making roads, right.
And one day this really attractive woman with big boobies came in, and she was asking what kind of tarmacadam she should purchase. We had two kinds, one was simple to lay, and one was very difficult, and she was asking which one she should get, right, so I said "Babe, Easy Tar."
You people don't deserve anything better.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 13:17, Reply)
And, um, we sold stuff for making roads, right.
And one day this really attractive woman with big boobies came in, and she was asking what kind of tarmacadam she should purchase. We had two kinds, one was simple to lay, and one was very difficult, and she was asking which one she should get, right, so I said "Babe, Easy Tar."
You people don't deserve anything better.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 13:17, Reply)
When I was a kiddy we had quite a few cats,
but just one me!
Any way, my folks went out one night leaving me under the charge of a young babysitter.
On arriving back home they found splashes of blood up the walls. Going further into the house they found more blood, everywhere.
In the living room they found the babysitter, in tears, 'I'm sorry' she was crying 'I couldn't make it stop'.
Terrified my mother ran upstairs, the trail of blood still continuing.
But there I was, safe and sound, sleeping in my bed.
Eventually they found the source.
Our Siamese cat.
He had cut the pad on his paw and had run round the house shaking it everywhere.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 13:15, Reply)
but just one me!
Any way, my folks went out one night leaving me under the charge of a young babysitter.
On arriving back home they found splashes of blood up the walls. Going further into the house they found more blood, everywhere.
In the living room they found the babysitter, in tears, 'I'm sorry' she was crying 'I couldn't make it stop'.
Terrified my mother ran upstairs, the trail of blood still continuing.
But there I was, safe and sound, sleeping in my bed.
Eventually they found the source.
Our Siamese cat.
He had cut the pad on his paw and had run round the house shaking it everywhere.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 13:15, Reply)
Wheeeeeeeebleurgheee!
I once volunteered to look after my sister's 2 year old son at my house while she went out shopping for a few hours. This is before I had kids and he was the first rugrat in our family so i pretty much doted on him. We spent the afternoon watching cartoons and playing with all his cool toys (Brio is still awesome). The attention span of a 2 year old boy being what it is, he got bored of all of that so, inspired by years of being tormented in the same way by my dad, i picked him up by his ankles and swung him round the living room. Instantly this is the BEST GAME EVER. So this is what we were doing when my sister came back - my nephew spinning around the room and giggling wildly. Unfortunately he picked that exact moment to expel the contents of his stomach, painting an orangey-brown go faster stripe of vom across my sofa and a fairly long arc across my cream carpets. My sister found it hilarious, my wife less so (we ended up buying a new sofa after many failed attempts to clean it), and my nephew even less so. for about a year after this, he would occasionally point at me, looking upset and just say 'YOU made me sick.'
I now play this game with my two sons, but only in the garden. I am pleased to say that they are made of stronger stuff and neither has bubbled his carrots once.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 13:12, Reply)
I once volunteered to look after my sister's 2 year old son at my house while she went out shopping for a few hours. This is before I had kids and he was the first rugrat in our family so i pretty much doted on him. We spent the afternoon watching cartoons and playing with all his cool toys (Brio is still awesome). The attention span of a 2 year old boy being what it is, he got bored of all of that so, inspired by years of being tormented in the same way by my dad, i picked him up by his ankles and swung him round the living room. Instantly this is the BEST GAME EVER. So this is what we were doing when my sister came back - my nephew spinning around the room and giggling wildly. Unfortunately he picked that exact moment to expel the contents of his stomach, painting an orangey-brown go faster stripe of vom across my sofa and a fairly long arc across my cream carpets. My sister found it hilarious, my wife less so (we ended up buying a new sofa after many failed attempts to clean it), and my nephew even less so. for about a year after this, he would occasionally point at me, looking upset and just say 'YOU made me sick.'
I now play this game with my two sons, but only in the garden. I am pleased to say that they are made of stronger stuff and neither has bubbled his carrots once.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 13:12, Reply)
I used to babysit for Kelly McDonald
out of that Trainspotting film .Trufax
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 13:06, 9 replies)
out of that Trainspotting film .Trufax
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 13:06, 9 replies)
I used to babysit for two kids
Their mother was a rather attractive young woman and I was always happy to babysit for her. I wish I could go on to say she paid me in sexual favours but I can't. The truth however isn't far off.
She was a broke single mum. She would go out for the night, meet a guy and basically say to him "I'll take you back to mine and fuck you if you buy my drinks and pay my babysitter." She made no secret of this to me and always made sure they paid me well over the odd's. Of course that makes her a prostitute but hey ho I was 15 years old with £40 a week in my pocket. She always left me few cans of beer in the fridge too.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 13:04, 5 replies)
Their mother was a rather attractive young woman and I was always happy to babysit for her. I wish I could go on to say she paid me in sexual favours but I can't. The truth however isn't far off.
She was a broke single mum. She would go out for the night, meet a guy and basically say to him "I'll take you back to mine and fuck you if you buy my drinks and pay my babysitter." She made no secret of this to me and always made sure they paid me well over the odd's. Of course that makes her a prostitute but hey ho I was 15 years old with £40 a week in my pocket. She always left me few cans of beer in the fridge too.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 13:04, 5 replies)
Much like FondaAccord
I lost my virginity to my sitter at the age of ten.
Christ my arse was sore.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 13:00, Reply)
I lost my virginity to my sitter at the age of ten.
Christ my arse was sore.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 13:00, Reply)
I lost my virginity to a horny babysitter when i was 9
explains why I wasn't wanking much back then.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:57, 4 replies)
explains why I wasn't wanking much back then.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:57, 4 replies)
I am not a babysitter as such...
...but I was looking after my cousins during the day. I was about 16, they were 5 and 3.
We were playing in the garden and I was taking it in turns to hold their hands and swing them round fast, eventually putting them back on the ground to see the dizzying effects.
The elder cousin (the girl) was loving it and laughing when she was all wobbly. The younger one (the boy) just cried when I finished.
And he cried some more. He cried lots in fact and wouldn't stop crying.
He was still crying a few hours later when his parent's arrived home.
Eventually a trip to the hospital revealed that my super-fast spinning and resulting centrifugal force had dislocated his elbow.
I guess they don't make 3 year olds like they used to.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:56, 3 replies)
...but I was looking after my cousins during the day. I was about 16, they were 5 and 3.
We were playing in the garden and I was taking it in turns to hold their hands and swing them round fast, eventually putting them back on the ground to see the dizzying effects.
The elder cousin (the girl) was loving it and laughing when she was all wobbly. The younger one (the boy) just cried when I finished.
And he cried some more. He cried lots in fact and wouldn't stop crying.
He was still crying a few hours later when his parent's arrived home.
Eventually a trip to the hospital revealed that my super-fast spinning and resulting centrifugal force had dislocated his elbow.
I guess they don't make 3 year olds like they used to.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:56, 3 replies)
I was on holiday in San Francisco
when I was a lad.We struck up a friendship with some American kids. We'd go out and make mischief down by the waterfront and generally mess about.
One day we were walking along and we saw this awesome tree to climb. It was in someone's garden, but we figured that it was such a big garden we wouldn't be spotted. One of the American kids was climbing the tree when a branch couldn't take his weight (he was American after all) and he slipped.
The kid fell out of the tree and landed on an apiary. There was an almighty crash and then the buzzing howl of a lot of pissed off now-homeless insects.
"MY ASS!" he cried as we realised they must've got up his shorts and be stinging his privates. It was later we found out that when he fell some had been squeezed up his sphincter and he'd had to push them out. All in all a painful experience.
And that's the tale of the Bay Bee-shitter.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:47, 2 replies)
when I was a lad.We struck up a friendship with some American kids. We'd go out and make mischief down by the waterfront and generally mess about.
One day we were walking along and we saw this awesome tree to climb. It was in someone's garden, but we figured that it was such a big garden we wouldn't be spotted. One of the American kids was climbing the tree when a branch couldn't take his weight (he was American after all) and he slipped.
The kid fell out of the tree and landed on an apiary. There was an almighty crash and then the buzzing howl of a lot of pissed off now-homeless insects.
"MY ASS!" he cried as we realised they must've got up his shorts and be stinging his privates. It was later we found out that when he fell some had been squeezed up his sphincter and he'd had to push them out. All in all a painful experience.
And that's the tale of the Bay Bee-shitter.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:47, 2 replies)
When I were but a lad
too young to be left alone, and my parents couldn't get back from work in time to pick me up, I would get left with a family called the Gwynnes, who were truly, truly horrible and I have mostly tried to erase from my mind.
The lad was a year younger than me and a bit strange. He spent most of his time eating bogeys. His older sister, who was my age, hardly ever spoke, and when she did it was some sort of withering and hateful comment about her family (other than the time she lured me into the kitchen and showed me her infantile downstairs, which gave me genuine nightmares for weeks). The mother must have been in her thirties but looked about 60 and chain-smoked. She never moved from the sofa in all the visits I made - the kids couriered crisps and cups of tea to her. The Dad, meanwhile, was a hopeless alcoholic who was normally upstairs, but occasionally ventured downstairs and, amused by finding an outsider in the family's midst, talked complete bollocks to me.
I'll never forget the smell. The whole house smelt of sweat and piss. There was grime and dust everywhere and nothing changed, ever, over the few years that I'd occasionally get left there. They had just given up on cleaning.
Also, the mother would occasionally accuse me of having broken things - the toilet, her kids' toys, etc., all of which had been broken anyway. Not sure if this was some sort of weird thing about shifting guilt to me for the state of the place or if she ever tried to get my parents to buy new toys. Even as a kid, I was conscious that there were some weird psychological issues going on in this household. I also realised - and I'm sorry if you think this makes me a snob - that these weren't really my sort of people...
Anyway, when the Gwynnes weren't free (rarely, as the Mum was pretty much stationary, as I say), I used to get left with another family called the Westcotts, who were much, much nicer. So much nicer it was hard for my young mind to deal with. The kids were friends of mine from school and were really nice, and their Mum and Dad were really cool and let us play in the garden and gave us glasses of squash. And it didn't stink of piss. They even had an air rifle which I was allowed a go on if the Dad was home to supervise.
When I was old enough to realise that I could actually express my own view on the matter, I challenged my Mum about this. Why did I have to stay with these people?
They were on a more direct route home and charged 50p less.
I was outraged, and basically point-blank refused to go there ever again. Luckily I was taken seriously.
(In fairness, she did say later that she was shocked that she'd ever left me with this family, but it seemed OK at the time)
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:45, 5 replies)
too young to be left alone, and my parents couldn't get back from work in time to pick me up, I would get left with a family called the Gwynnes, who were truly, truly horrible and I have mostly tried to erase from my mind.
The lad was a year younger than me and a bit strange. He spent most of his time eating bogeys. His older sister, who was my age, hardly ever spoke, and when she did it was some sort of withering and hateful comment about her family (other than the time she lured me into the kitchen and showed me her infantile downstairs, which gave me genuine nightmares for weeks). The mother must have been in her thirties but looked about 60 and chain-smoked. She never moved from the sofa in all the visits I made - the kids couriered crisps and cups of tea to her. The Dad, meanwhile, was a hopeless alcoholic who was normally upstairs, but occasionally ventured downstairs and, amused by finding an outsider in the family's midst, talked complete bollocks to me.
I'll never forget the smell. The whole house smelt of sweat and piss. There was grime and dust everywhere and nothing changed, ever, over the few years that I'd occasionally get left there. They had just given up on cleaning.
Also, the mother would occasionally accuse me of having broken things - the toilet, her kids' toys, etc., all of which had been broken anyway. Not sure if this was some sort of weird thing about shifting guilt to me for the state of the place or if she ever tried to get my parents to buy new toys. Even as a kid, I was conscious that there were some weird psychological issues going on in this household. I also realised - and I'm sorry if you think this makes me a snob - that these weren't really my sort of people...
Anyway, when the Gwynnes weren't free (rarely, as the Mum was pretty much stationary, as I say), I used to get left with another family called the Westcotts, who were much, much nicer. So much nicer it was hard for my young mind to deal with. The kids were friends of mine from school and were really nice, and their Mum and Dad were really cool and let us play in the garden and gave us glasses of squash. And it didn't stink of piss. They even had an air rifle which I was allowed a go on if the Dad was home to supervise.
When I was old enough to realise that I could actually express my own view on the matter, I challenged my Mum about this. Why did I have to stay with these people?
They were on a more direct route home and charged 50p less.
I was outraged, and basically point-blank refused to go there ever again. Luckily I was taken seriously.
(In fairness, she did say later that she was shocked that she'd ever left me with this family, but it seemed OK at the time)
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:45, 5 replies)
GO, GO, WHY WON'T YOU GO!!!!
I used to babysit for a family friend once a week to supplement my pocket money. It was easy enough, the sprog went to bed at about 7:30 and I spent the rest of the evening watching telly and eating all the crisps I could lay my hands on.
One evening however I laid a cable in their bog that regardless of the number of flushes, or the amount of bog roll thrown at it, just wouldn't go. I was panicking by the 4th flush and needed to find some way to make it more manageable for the U bend. No way I was getting my hand down there so I resorted to chopping it up with a kitchen utensil. Thankfully it flushed and my only problem was then cleaning said utensil. After pouring boiling water over it twice and wiping off the evidence with kitchen roll it no looked or smelled any different than normal so I replaced it and pretended nothing out of the ordinary occurred whilst I was left in charge of their child/house.
Other story to follow.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:39, 1 reply)
I used to babysit for a family friend once a week to supplement my pocket money. It was easy enough, the sprog went to bed at about 7:30 and I spent the rest of the evening watching telly and eating all the crisps I could lay my hands on.
One evening however I laid a cable in their bog that regardless of the number of flushes, or the amount of bog roll thrown at it, just wouldn't go. I was panicking by the 4th flush and needed to find some way to make it more manageable for the U bend. No way I was getting my hand down there so I resorted to chopping it up with a kitchen utensil. Thankfully it flushed and my only problem was then cleaning said utensil. After pouring boiling water over it twice and wiping off the evidence with kitchen roll it no looked or smelled any different than normal so I replaced it and pretended nothing out of the ordinary occurred whilst I was left in charge of their child/house.
Other story to follow.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:39, 1 reply)
When I was about 12 I fell in love with my baby sitter.
So I would offer to make her a drink then rub my cock around the rim of the cup.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:32, 10 replies)
So I would offer to make her a drink then rub my cock around the rim of the cup.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:32, 10 replies)
I've been collecting Indian musical instruments for several years.
One day I left two stringed gourds alone in a room overnight, and of course one thing led to another.
Nine months later we were blessed with the arrival of a baby sitar.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:28, 4 replies)
One day I left two stringed gourds alone in a room overnight, and of course one thing led to another.
Nine months later we were blessed with the arrival of a baby sitar.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:28, 4 replies)
Shy
My babysitter was my brother's girlfriend's sister. She was lovely. So lovely that I was too embarassed to be in the same room as her and put myself to bed immediately she arrived and tugged myself into oblivion. She was also a lifeguard at the local swimming pool. She said hello to me there once and I jumped in the pool and tried to hold my breath for 30 minutes in order to avoid having to talk to her. Sigh. I'm hardly any better with women now.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:28, Reply)
My babysitter was my brother's girlfriend's sister. She was lovely. So lovely that I was too embarassed to be in the same room as her and put myself to bed immediately she arrived and tugged myself into oblivion. She was also a lifeguard at the local swimming pool. She said hello to me there once and I jumped in the pool and tried to hold my breath for 30 minutes in order to avoid having to talk to her. Sigh. I'm hardly any better with women now.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:28, Reply)
i never had a babysitter
or had any dealings with babysitters
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:25, 4 replies)
or had any dealings with babysitters
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:25, 4 replies)
Oops
When I was a pre-teen (aged 10, 11 and 12) there was a girl up the street from the grammar school who would come in to look after me and my brother when my parents would go out.
One evening the parentals were out and I was playing in the garden; came into the house through the kitchen door to spot my babysitter being (what I now recognise to be) "done" by her boyfriend who I didn't recognise.
I screamed like a baby for a few reasons most of which being that I didn't recognise the bloke in question and in my imagination the house had been broken into and my babysitter was being attacked.
With my imagination running in over-drive I jumped on the back of babysitters boyfriends back and using my "fists-of-fun" started thumping him, thinking I was being a knight in shining armour.
Much, much embarrassment all round but I didn't tell my parents and babysitter kept coming around.
Postscript: many years later, she ended up marrying the boyfriend and the last time I heard (last Xmas) she and he were still married and has a thousand kids.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:25, 2 replies)
When I was a pre-teen (aged 10, 11 and 12) there was a girl up the street from the grammar school who would come in to look after me and my brother when my parents would go out.
One evening the parentals were out and I was playing in the garden; came into the house through the kitchen door to spot my babysitter being (what I now recognise to be) "done" by her boyfriend who I didn't recognise.
I screamed like a baby for a few reasons most of which being that I didn't recognise the bloke in question and in my imagination the house had been broken into and my babysitter was being attacked.
With my imagination running in over-drive I jumped on the back of babysitters boyfriends back and using my "fists-of-fun" started thumping him, thinking I was being a knight in shining armour.
Much, much embarrassment all round but I didn't tell my parents and babysitter kept coming around.
Postscript: many years later, she ended up marrying the boyfriend and the last time I heard (last Xmas) she and he were still married and has a thousand kids.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:25, 2 replies)
I'll get this one out of the way RIGHT NOW
Dear Fiesta
I thought I didn't stand a chance with the cute babysitter we hired to look after our kids on a night out. But, as I was driving her home just before midnight, I felt a tremulous hand on my knee, and before we knew it...
... And we collapsed in a heap on the back seat and promised to do it again next time we got the chance.
Frank Liar, Southampton
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:24, 3 replies)
Dear Fiesta
I thought I didn't stand a chance with the cute babysitter we hired to look after our kids on a night out. But, as I was driving her home just before midnight, I felt a tremulous hand on my knee, and before we knew it...
... And we collapsed in a heap on the back seat and promised to do it again next time we got the chance.
Frank Liar, Southampton
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:24, 3 replies)
A genuine wanker!
As a 7 yr old I was often tormented by the fact that I would ask my parents if I could stay up to see the end of Knight Rider (from 7-8pm) despite the babysitter arriving between 7 and half past.
Despite the "go ahead" from my parents as soon as they were gone he'd shout and pack me off to bed before top of the pops at 7:30, and as it turned out more importantly EastEnders.
My babysitter, Simon, was a mid teen 80's metal head. Skinny jeans, big blonde hairdo, Iron Maiden t-shirt etc. Very 1984... but then, it WAS 1984.
So one night I felt pretty hard done by to miss Knight Rider, so after sulking upstairs for a bit I decided it was time to confront my shouty nemesis.
I crept downstairs, peered around the living room door and spied Mr Metal head knocking one out to EastEnders.
I may have been only 7 but I knew this was not something I should have seen, so went back to bed and never mentioned it.
As an adult I can now only think, how desperate have you gotta be to get your jolly's off to an 80's episode of EastEnders!?!?
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:22, 9 replies)
As a 7 yr old I was often tormented by the fact that I would ask my parents if I could stay up to see the end of Knight Rider (from 7-8pm) despite the babysitter arriving between 7 and half past.
Despite the "go ahead" from my parents as soon as they were gone he'd shout and pack me off to bed before top of the pops at 7:30, and as it turned out more importantly EastEnders.
My babysitter, Simon, was a mid teen 80's metal head. Skinny jeans, big blonde hairdo, Iron Maiden t-shirt etc. Very 1984... but then, it WAS 1984.
So one night I felt pretty hard done by to miss Knight Rider, so after sulking upstairs for a bit I decided it was time to confront my shouty nemesis.
I crept downstairs, peered around the living room door and spied Mr Metal head knocking one out to EastEnders.
I may have been only 7 but I knew this was not something I should have seen, so went back to bed and never mentioned it.
As an adult I can now only think, how desperate have you gotta be to get your jolly's off to an 80's episode of EastEnders!?!?
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:22, 9 replies)
3rd
I've never been sad enough to post 1st 2nd or 3rd, but i've finally stooped that low :(
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:21, Reply)
I've never been sad enough to post 1st 2nd or 3rd, but i've finally stooped that low :(
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:21, Reply)
First?
Woohoo! Not got first post before :)
No babysitter stories though, sadly.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:19, Reply)
Woohoo! Not got first post before :)
No babysitter stories though, sadly.
( , Thu 28 Oct 2010, 12:19, Reply)
This question is now closed.