oh god
when i was 11 or 12, i desperately wanted an ellesse tracksuit, like all the other kids. God bless em, poor parents must have sold a kidney to buy a knock off one from the market. It looked cheap, everyone knew it was a copy, and because my mum is a vicious bastard, i was made to wear it to every school outing, cue much piss extraction. to cap it all, i was a roly poly ittle bastard, and it fitted me like a surgeons glove.
which reminds me of the photo knocking about of me in skintight dark navy jeans, and a baggy yellow tshirt. I had to be poured into them jeans.
oooh, and the time we had a french exchange student over, i was about 14 then. baggy jumpers tucked into me jeans with a belt. but being a scuffer, they were invariably cheap nylon ones from t'market, rather than the horrifically expensive things my classmates wore.
I remember I had hair like rick astleys, but even more quiffy and with the sides swept up. much hair spray involved.

just a word of warning to people on average incomes - sending your kids to a grammar school on a scholarship will only result in them developing a hatred for the people you're trying to get them to emulate, with their sports cars and 3 holidays a year and sski trips and band practise and more money than fucking sense (one girl was bought a golf gti for her 16th birthday, so she could practise around daddys estate ffs)

bitter? only after eating asparagus!
(kaptinkurtz, Thu 24 Aug 2006, 16:17, Reply)