When I was a teenage Tinywiener
a most annoying friend of my mum's and her boyfriend used to invade our flat every Summer. As we didn't have a spare room I got carted onto the sofa for a few weeks. These bastards were the house guests from hell, showing utter disregard for any kind of pre-existing household rythms or routines, the whole time treating us as if having them doing shits in our toilet was some kind of fantastic privilege.

Worst, we were bombarded with stamina endurance tests - the two boring fucker's slide shows of mundane photos - always right around the time The Fresh Prince/Heartbreak High/The Simpsons or other such teen fodder was on. Even my Dad who is a mild mannered man at the worst of times - a man who once INVITED Jehovah's Witnesses into our house - could not abide them cheerfully. The only interesting thing about them was their ability to suck humour from a room at something approaching the speed of light.

I fucking hated them.

So in my teenage mind one Summer I thought it was acceptable to tax them £10 for the mental anguish caused by their visit (I was smoking more than usual due to heightened irritation). Being the tight cunts that they were (ever heard of a guest house/hotel/hostel??), they itemised every penny being spent and I was caught out after a brief interrogation.

Being the rebel that I was I didn't care at the time although in retrospect I realise this was not my finest hour. My Mum was mortified but my dad and sister were secretly chuffed - they never came back again!

3 days before you get whiffy in my house.
( bland is bland, Mon 7 Jun 2010, 12:31, Reply)