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This is a question Desperate Times

Stranded in a hotel in an African war zone with no internet access for two weeks, I was forced to resort to desperate measures. Possessing only my passport and the clothes I stood up in; and the warning "You can catch it shaking hands with a vicar out there" ringing in my ears, I had to draw my own porn in order to preserve my sanity.

Alas, it all came out looking like Coronation Street's Audrey Roberts, but, as they say, any port in a storm.

What have you done in times of great desperation?

(, Thu 15 Nov 2007, 10:10)
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In with the in-crowd?
Way back when, what seems like hundreds of years ago now, there was a young boy who was desperate for acceptance.

Sure, he had friends, but for some reason he wanted to be one of the ‘cool’ kids; he wanted to sit at the back of the class. He wanted to sit at the back of the bus. Basically, if it involved being at the back of something, then that is where he wanted to be.

And the tragedy of it all is – the ‘cool’ kids knew this. And oh, did they take advantage of that fact.

A young Devil In Tights would do anything falling short of nothing for a bit of recognition. Not doing homework, deliberately getting detentions, drawing graffiti in the toilets, and cutting class. OK, looking back on it now these are hardly heinous crimes and nor are they acts of total depravity, but hey – it was my way of trying to get in with the in crowd.

One fateful day, we were queuing outside of a maths lesson, and something incredible happened. There was a party happening that weekend, and they invited me! Me, with the little Lord Fauntleroy hair and the speccy glasses. Me, the little geeky boy who actually liked English and Drama. And who should ask me but the one object of my affections (whose name shall remain nameless)! She even said, in a breathy (and what I imagine now what she thought was a sexy) drawl “don’t forget to bring a condom!”

Well that was it. I was Romeo, she was Juliet. I of the house of geekdom, she of the house of cool. And I was going to do it on her on Saturday night. Finally, I had found my calling, to unite teenagers everywhere regardless of colour, creed, sexuality or social status. I’d be hailed as a hero, no less than a God.

Oh, would that it were, Devil In Tights, would that it were.

The fateful day came. I pilfered alcohol from my parents. I snuck in to a pub and procured a pack of two prophylactics (stud!) – and I was prepared.

My heart was aflutter all the way to the party. My loins were proud and erect; there was nothing, nothing that would stop me now.

I arrive at the party to the heady tunes of Guns n’ Roses, and approach my conquest. She was beautiful to my fourteen-year-old eyes, the way she moved, and the way she smoked: I wanted her. I wanted her to make me a man. She turned to me, and offered me a drag on her Silk Cut (and by this I mean her cigarette, not her vagina). I took it proudly with my fingers, dragged some acrid tasting smoke in to my mouth, and puffed it straight back out.

Which was meant with a round of raucous laughter. “’Ow are yew menna smowke if ya dahn’t tayke it dahn?” she cackled, her cohort of Wyrd Sisters mocking me from behind her. “G’won, tayke anuvver drayg aynd ven swaller it!”

Which I did. I swallowed smoke. And then promptly coughed up a lung.

“AHH! Wot a dowzy cahnt! ‘E only fahkin’ swallered it, dinee? Wot a fahkin dikked!”

I ran, I veritably ran away from tht party, their laughter still ringing in my ears. I walked the long way to my best friends house, where we drank a can each of shitty lager, played on a computer, and I realised that the friends I had were the best ever, and what the hell was I trying to achieve by hanging out with the so-called ‘cool’ kids.

I never said this to my friends at the time, but my desperation to be seen as cool made me a total dick.

The nice end to this story is that I went back to the little backwater where my school was a few years ago. Most of the ‘cool’ kids are still hanging around there, working in dead end jobs with entire phalanxes of children swarming around them, and even though none of us are older than 28 they look haggard and old.

I met the object of my affection in a pub that weekend.

“Fark me,” she said “Iss only fahkin you, innit? ‘Ere, you turned aht awlriyt, din’t ya? Yew fayncy goin’ aht fer a drink or summink?”

“No,” I said. “No, I don’t think so.”

The moral of the story here is that the cool kids at school don’t necessarily stay cool when you grow up.

Apologies for length, but I hope it shows that sometimes desperation can teach you a few well-needed lessons.
(, Fri 16 Nov 2007, 10:51, 9 replies)
Good story!
(, Fri 16 Nov 2007, 11:00, closed)
She turned to me, and offered me a drag on her Silk Cut (and by this I mean her cigarette, not her vagina).
Legendary. Had I been taking a slurp of coffee, I would surely have spluttered all over my keybord.

Top marks!
(, Fri 16 Nov 2007, 11:10, closed)
So so true...
...now how do we spread the message to kids when its RELEVANT ?
(, Fri 16 Nov 2007, 11:11, closed)
Hear hear!
Very well said! From one geek to another, I salute you!

(And yes, it's us uncool geeks who now, in our thirties and forties, are the hot ones who are sought after. Justice is not dead.)
(, Fri 16 Nov 2007, 12:03, closed)
That would make
a good morality play.
Which is to say, have sod all chance of being listened to by those who need it most.
Excellent tale.

(And well said the replies above.)
(, Fri 16 Nov 2007, 12:12, closed)
When Friends reunited was popular I could hardly wait to find out what giant failures the bullies and cool kids at my school had be ome!

As expected most of them hadn't gone into university but straight into jobs - so they were now a mixture of City Traders, and television/radio producers. So that showed them alright.
(, Fri 16 Nov 2007, 12:13, closed)
The cool kids don't generally end up well - I was bullied like fuck at school for being "different". Had I have believed what I was told then I would be a gay loser (nothing wrong with being gay, of course).
Instead I'm currently on a £1K / day working from home job and have a younger girlfriend who delights in dressing up and coming round here to shag me senseless. People from 5 countries turned up to my birthday party this year and I think of myself as an exceptionally lucky bastard with lots of loving friends and family.
It's just heart-breaking to see my youngest daughter sometimes getting shit at school for being "different" (i.e. IQ well into the 3 figures) and then trying to conform - dumbing down - by reading "Heat" magazine.
School is hell for many children; going back would be my worst nightmare. Issues ? No, not any more, just fed up to see the same shit perpetuated through each generation - telling my daughter it will be OK later in life doesn't stop her feeling the pain now.
(, Fri 16 Nov 2007, 12:58, closed)
I can relate to this, *click*
I was bullied like fuck, also.. (Do i see a trend here at b3ta?)

I'm just a wee lad of 18, but working at a high profile company in london as a senior network administrator and have been to Chicago, Bangalore and hopefully soon Sydney at company expense.

My girlfriend lives in Spain, and i couldn't he happier, as we "waltzed" into McD's the other day, and lo and behold it was one of the tyrants! Oh how i laughed as i said "One Big Mac Please"...

*gets coat*
(, Fri 16 Nov 2007, 13:58, closed)
Just to add some much needed correction
I was bullied mercilessly at school for being a brainiac, and am now an obese hag in a shit job. But hey, I got a H1 for Honours!
(, Sat 17 Nov 2007, 8:55, closed)

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