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This is a question Child Labour

There is a special part of Hell I'd like to reserve for those arses that order every single Sunday paper. Do you know how heavy that makes the bundle of papers some poor kid (ie me) has to lug around? Funny how your papers always seemed to get mangled in your letterbox...

I loved my paper round, but, looking back, I was getting paid peanuts to ruin my back and cycle around in the cold and dark. How were you exploited as a child?

(, Fri 17 Feb 2006, 12:05)
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We wish you a merry pissmas
A few of us tykes used to go carol singing round our council estate each December. Lots of very nice people gave us sweets & coins despite clearly not being terribly wealthy.

One day we had the bright idea to go go to the outskirts of town where the posh people lived in the big houses - if poor people could give us money, rich people could give us TONS of money!

Or so we thought.

After being ignored, insulted, shooed away, and threatened with the police by various snooty wankers we happened upon one house where this lady opened the door and brayed "gosh how charming" or some such, and stood grinning at us for a good five minutes as we went through our entire repertoire of Jingle Bells, We Wish You a Merry Xmas and, um, Jingle Bells again.

And then she said "thank you very much" and shut the door in our face.

Now, by that time I'd just about had enough of these toffee nosed twats. Fury arose within my mighty ten year old frame. Some nice person earlier had given me a tube of smarties, so I immediately chewed up a mouthful of them, opened the letterbox and gobbed them out into the house as forcefully as I could. Then I ran.

About 30 seconds later I looked back and realised nobody had come after us. So I went back to the house, opened the letterbox again, stood up on tiptoes and had a hearty piss into it. Again nobody came out.

The next week I put some dogshit through the letterbox. And so it went on. For some weeks.

Many years later, about 18 years of age, I happened to be walking down the same road pissed out of my head on cider. I noticed that same house and had a good chuckle about my childhood campaign of toiletary vengeance. Then I stopped. It was late. Nobody was about.

Ladies and gentlemen I must confess that I went up to that very same letterbox and wanked into it.
(, Fri 17 Feb 2006, 13:49, Reply)

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