My poor Gandaddy
Is a bit fuckin' nuts bless him. He's subject to paranoid delusions and dementia. Despite this, the days are never boring when he's around.

My dad got the first indication that he wasn't all there when he used to ring him up thinking that someone had broken into his house. 'You need to come round, I think someone's broken in!'
'SHIT' cries daddy. And drives the 2hours drive to visit him.
'Someones broken in and been moving things. The onaments are in the bedroom.'

'Did you do that?'

'No!.. Oh, actually.. maybe.'

Good grief. He then goes on the explain about the illegal immigrants that have moved into his shed but were hiding during the day and he couldnt catch them at night because he was afraid of them in the dark. And surprisingly the police didnt believe him.

It all got a bit sinister one day when he belived his 79 year old neighbour was tring to gas him out of his bedroom (!?) He believed that this frail, elderly man was drilling holes during the day and at night pumping toxic gas into his bedroom so he could claim his house and knock the wall through.

So he put his windows in.

My uncle lives in Spain and had come home for a few week to see my cousins. The immigrants in the shed story had changed to the ALIENS (I kid you not) in the shed.

I think that this was when they decided that something must have been up.

Anyway he was admitted to hospital for a dodgy ankle whereupon he proceeded to insult any nurse/doctor that didnt refer to him as 'The Colonel' and demanded to go back to the barracks.

Since then he's in a home and he's not as mental anymore. My dad had to clear out his house and found some folders. One of the folders was a list of every registration number that had parked out side his house and were numbered 1-10 on a scale of how threatening the VEHICLE looked and an explanation. It was apparant that he did not favour the Saxo as they were too common (a degree of truth there) so he was suspicious of them. There was another folder of ufo sightings over his house and drawings of figures entering his shed.


Maybe it was true after all?.... No.


Its not that funny really but it used to make me laugh
(i should have joined myspace, Fri 31 Oct 2008, 10:14, Reply)

The mad chemistry teacher, Fit the Second.
As I said before, he was a nutcase, but a good bloke and teacher.

One time at band camp he was showing us the Transition Metals. He then preceded to take the Mercury out of the jar roll it around in his hand and then drink it. He said that it was harmless, we knew better. He didn’t get as much out as he put in though, and he died a few years later!
(Herr Doktor Lemminge Is bored, so cheer me up!, Fri 31 Oct 2008, 10:14, 4 replies)

This is what I would do if I had the cash
I once worked at a festival, back in about 1997, and the land we hired was from a mental millionaire who owned most of the surrounding countryside. I never met the man myself, but was regaled with tales of his eccentricity by the locals and my co-workers.

Apparently he has a compressed air cannon onto which he loads cars and flings them across the fields for fun. I was also told that he has his dining room rigged up so that at a push of a button he can drop any guests he doesn't like into the basement, James Bond villain style.

But my favourite story was that he has, get this, a FULL SIZE MECHANICAL ELEPHANT that runs on diesel which he regularly rides around his estate.

If I were a millionaire I would do exactly the same stuff. Except I would do it naked.
( BlueHaze Chutney. All good., Fri 31 Oct 2008, 10:07, 8 replies)

My Landlord, part 2..
His father's friend, with whom he shared the Regency obsession, used to drive a carriage that was pulled by Zebras and his servant used to ride a Llama to the Post Office...

His wife died quite young and he led a fairy lonely lifestyle, by all accounts - she had been the love of his life and such eccentricities gave him some light relief, I suppose.

Also, my landlord's father once set his lace sleeve cuff alight with the oil lantern he was holding whilst walking to his friends' house. His servants immediately dropped the sedan chair (with his wife inside), which toppled onto its side (with his wife now unable to open the door and get out), in order to beat the flames out. Thus, his wife was left trapped in a box in the middle of the main road, with cars passing either side of her. When the police told him he couldn't use the sedan chair on the road because it had no lights and was thus an illegal vehicle, he replied that it wasn't a vehicle, but a parcel that his servants were delivering, this getting round the law. His wife must have been thrilled...
(Chad, Fri 31 Oct 2008, 10:02, Reply)

I have to say
I'd class eccentrics as being characterised by odd or peculiar behaviour.

While this may involve a token amount of bigotry, I don't think confused racists really fit the bill.
(LickOutTheJamsMotherfuckers!, Fri 31 Oct 2008, 10:00, Reply)

My Landlord...
Sounds like Boris Johnson, writes about his father (who was a truly mad old buffer) and architecture.

Lives in a 20-odd bedroomed georgian mansion that is slightly shabby. House is filled with his father's antiques and only recently had electricity fitted. He's got to be 60 if he's a day and he just broke his ankle whilst picking apples from his orchard.

He is properly eccentric, but his old fella takes the biscuit. "The Professor" as he was known, was an architect who did work on places like Woburn Abbey, but who had an obsession with the Regency period. To the point of dressing like a regency dandy, even though it was 1950, and going to dinner at his friends house, taking his wife in a sedan chair.

He used to run round the town (which he owned most of), burst into peoples' houses in order to sketch fireplaces or other architectural details he had been told about.

The locals just grew used to his charming, childish (yet slightly unhinged) enthusiasm and erratic behaviour and he was seen as something they were oddly proud to be associated with. In fact, one of the previous tennants of the big pile I now rent (which is next door to this old buffer's house), was a Victoria Cross winner who sunk the Tirpitz using mini submarines. It's a funny place.

Makes you proud to be British.
(Chad, Fri 31 Oct 2008, 9:54, Reply)

and another
My Father's sister won't let aanyone in her flat. So if you visit her she will make you stand in the 1.2metre passage, wether its raining, snowing or whatever. You will NOT go into the house.

She ruined the life of 2 cousins of mine. How?

Their father had died, and their mum was an alcoholic who was abusive. one night she went nuts and they ran round the corner to the nutcase, begging for her to stash them for the night, but she wouldn't let them in. She called the cops and they were taken to a home, where the boy was beaten and the girl got involved in the wrong crowd.

12 years later, he is in jail for possession of heroine, and she is a stripper. Great job there
(Bluffboy South Africa! World Champions!!!, Fri 31 Oct 2008, 9:49, 2 replies)

a useful pea..
A mate's mum is super crazy when it comes to her boys. she was at every sporting event and ceremony, literally screaming her lungs out to support her boys.
My first encounter with her was her walking up and down the swimming pool at a school gala shouting for her sone to win. He did.
Rumour has it she tripped the wing at a rugby game once from the sidelines....

Now she just complains that they listen to rock music and don't go to church often enough...
(Bluffboy South Africa! World Champions!!!, Fri 31 Oct 2008, 9:48, 1 reply)

Mr Brady
This is a bit of a pearoast from a few weeks back but it fits quite nicely here.

One day whilst working in the library, the sliding doors opened to reveal a man who looked exactly like Hitler. He quite evidently had no natural hair upon his head, yet he wore this very cheap, crude black wig in a side parting and a moustache that would slowly rotate clockwise every so often if he didn't constantly adjust it. He wore an immaculate suit and spoke like a clipped Kentish WW2 wing commander. It turns out he was originally from Dorset too, which was weird since this is the kind of town where "we don't get many strangers round these here parts" (except Polish people, Iranian people, Russians etc).

Now obviously, someone who wears a cheap Hitler wig and a moustache that rotates (and also seemingly appeared and disappeared from his face several times a day), can't be playing with the proverbial full deck. But unlike our regular psychopaths, he never threatened or tried to kill/rape/stalk any of us, and this made him a bit of a curiosity to us all.

His quirkiness began only slightly. He would come up to us every day asking for extra time on the computers and claiming he was an IT engineer and he'd be happy to fix our computers for us (he reckoned he could make our network 500% faster). This does beg the question - why would a qualified IT engineer come into the library every day for 2 years to use our computers which are slower than a date raped Jade Goody. This eventually got annoying to the point he'd pull a screwdriver out of his pocket and in the end I got cross and told him to leave our computers alone or I would have to ask him to leave.

Next up came the revelation that he was something of a religious fella. During the big floods of a couple of years ago, he rather helpfully told my colleague that Jesus was getting in through the raindrops to kill everyone. I was unaware that Jesus possessed the same skills as the baddie from Terminator 2.

Next up, the phonecalls. At 9.33am every day the alarm clock tone would go off on his phone. He would then answer it and have a one way conversation. It was always some huge job offer and every day he would decline for the following reasons.

- He wouldn't be willing to work for as little as £150k a year.
- He was manager of all the banks in Dubai.
- His secretary hasn't been getting his calls to him.
- He's a qualified IT engineer.

Now this is kind of odd, because at this point I thought he might be homeless. but one day I saw him get into a really fancy car and drive off. He even told me a couple of weeks later that he loves marching band music so much it makes him cry, and he often just drives around town listening to it and crying.

So thus far, we have a man who looks like Hitler, who claims to be an IT engineer used to a 6 figure salary, who does appear to have at least enough money to own a £30 grand car, who comes from Dorset and believes Jesus can appear in liquid form.

Now I left the library at the beginning of this month and by the time I left his behaviour had gotten weirder. The suits were still worn, but were often dirty and ill fitting. His wig was being worn at a jaunty angle, and he started turning up with a child's Postman Pat umbrella, which he was viciously possessive of. He once left a letter behind from a psychiatrist saying he was long overdue an appointment. One afternoon, completely at random he threw a chair to the floor and then sat down as though nothing had happened.

The last I heard, he'd asked my former boss out. She is blonde haired, blue eyed and has child bearing hips...
(GONEism, Fri 31 Oct 2008, 9:46, Reply)

My brother in law
Nice enough guy. We generally get on very well - almost like brothers - but sometimes he can just do something totally odd.

One early Sunday morning our whole house was dead to the world. Me, wife, 2 kids all happily snoozing away. Even the dog was snoring her head off in her bed at the foot of the stairs.

It was 7:55am when the phone rang. On a Sunday morning FFS. Having received one or two calls at a similar time in the past, my first reaction was that there must have been a death or sudden illness in the family - after all, what sane and sensible person would call before 8am on a Sunday?

Being easier to rouse than her ladyship, I bounded across her to grab the phone from her side of the bed.

Me: "Hello?" (slightly panicked voice)
Him: "Hello."
-- Slight pause while cogs turn --
Me: "xxx? Is that you?"
Him: "Yes. How are you?"
Me: "Er..fine. What is it?!"
Him: "Um..well...I was wondering if Mrs Fister can remember how dad used to make porridge for us. Did he use salt or sugar?"
Me: "What the f...? Do you know what frigging time it is?"
Him: "I didn't wake you did I?"
Me: "No, of course not, I was just out in the garden weeding my flucking geraniums WELL OF COURSE YOU WOKE ME UP YOU TWAT IT'S 8 O'CLOCK ON A FRIGGIN SUNDAY MORNING!"
Him: "Oh. Sorry. Thought you'd be up early for Junior Fisters footie match?"
Me: "a) It's cancelled, and b) even if it wasn't we still wouldn't be up for another frigging hour!"

Jesus he can be odd. To be fair, he now holds his hands up to this one when he's reminded of it - which is often.

We bought him a book of porridge recipes that Christmas.
(Reverend Fister "a disciplined fuckwit", Fri 31 Oct 2008, 9:42, Reply)

Topical
There seem to be a fair few stories about teachers. so I shall throw this news story in:
www.ananova.com/news/story/sm_3068751.html?menu=

I will try to think of a proper story later.
(ThomsonsPier consumes, Fri 31 Oct 2008, 9:41, Reply)

Just a quickie...
My mother went through a bit of religious patch in the 1980s.

Among the things forbidden during that period were Ghostbusters, Live and Let Die, and Stain Devils. All were clearly Satanic.

Still, at least I got away with buying a corn-dolly on a primary school trip. One of my mother's friends would refuse even to enter the same room as something so pagan.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 31 Oct 2008, 9:28, 6 replies)

the Rainbow Reich
This is Leo Felton, a Nazi skinhead who was convicted of bank robbery and plotting to blow up Jewish and black landmarks around Boston.



I suspect he didn't get it from his Dad:



Or his mother's parents, one of whom was Jewish.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 31 Oct 2008, 9:27, 3 replies)

anyone from Cambridge
will know this chap, Snowy Farr

Madder than a bag full of cats but raised tens of thousands of pounds for charity.

www.bbc.co.uk/cambridgeshire/content/articles/2007/03/12/snowy_feature.shtml

A true english eccentic, who is sadly missed.
(Halfy By light alone, Fri 31 Oct 2008, 9:27, 7 replies)

Sorry.
Not a story, but thank-you for a decent QOTW.
(ice9, Fri 31 Oct 2008, 9:22, Reply)

At last one I have an answer for!
When I was a wee laddy, well 15 to be precise, I had a great chemistry teacher. He was madder than a box of frogs, and pupils that he liked could get away with almost anything in his class.

Well one day he was showing us the Alkali Metals and how they react in water. We had all seen it before and told him so, so he showed us Rubidium and Cesium! His next brilliant idea was to show us how they reacted in concentrated Nitric Acid!

Lithium - Reacts like Potassium does in water.
Sodium - Is a violent reaction.
Potassium - Was so violent it blew the large pyrex dish apart and showered the front bench in glass and Nitric acid.

I was kind of glad that I was sitting at the back!

More of this nutter later.
(Herr Doktor Lemminge Is bored, so cheer me up!, Fri 31 Oct 2008, 9:21, 2 replies)

absolute zero
In my yoof I worked at a grocers at the weekend. The local population was made up of a large proportion of cofin dodgers and quite a few of the 'eccentrics' from the nearby nuthouse on day release.

Anyhoo around halloween (coincidentally) I was manning the till with the bosses sister. We had a large display of pumpkins built up next to us. A man-mountain (I'm 6"3- but this guy must have been at least 7ft) walks up to the till with his goods.

Half way through ringing the items through, he points to the pumpkins and says:

"You see that? I'll get one of those, freeze it to near absolute zero and batter the bitch with it....."

The bosses sister was terrified and my gorillas eye-socket was starting to loosen up. However, he just walked away without his shopping, while we stood there open mouthed in silence.

He used to come in quite a lot before that incident. He also wore shorts and a t-shirt whatever the weather.
(Deskbound You insignificant speck of dust, Fri 31 Oct 2008, 8:43, Reply)

Ah!
Back in the 80's I knew a black bloke who was a member of the National Front as he "hated Pakis".

He point blank refused to believe that the National Front also hated blacks as he'd been born here and was as English as the Queen.

I'd loved to have been there when he went to his first meeting....

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Fri 31 Oct 2008, 3:54, 3 replies)

A fellow racetraitor
Well, as some of you may remember, I live in South Korea, where I've been kind of an ambassador for the small but very talented Korean punk scene to foreigners coming from other countries.

One such foreigner, a very good friend of mine we call Verv, contacted me while he was training to become a Korean language expert for the US army. He's a skinhead--not the racist kind, but the kind who thinks that America is God's country and they have to fight the more communist, more Islamic, more atheist, more homosexual-tolerating countries of the world. He also believes in some of the less racialist ideas of national socialism, for instance that multiculturalism is evil and cultures should be isolated for their own protection.

Well, of course he wanted to know more about music in Korea, as he was being sent here. I introduced him to a few Korean skinheads for online penpals, and he was getting excited about coming here.

He arrived, and the first time I met him, he wasn't what I was expecting. He was one of those guys who makes nonstop eye contact with you, coupled with a LOT of body contact. Knee-touching, tackling hugs, etc. A little surprising for a self-professed homophobe.

Still, we got along great despite our vast differences. One time he told me and my wife that he really likes Koreans because Asian people are smart, unlike blacks who are less intelligent. Me and my wife stared at each other in disbelief.

Most of the Korean skinheads are just like skinheads everywhere--they like cheap booze, and they like punk music, or hardcore, or ska or whatever. There's one group that's heavy into nationalism and white-power music (commonly called Rock Against Communism [what they really mean is Rock Against Non-Whites and Racetraitors]), but they probably deserve a QOTW of their own. Anyway, Verv got along with this one group really well, bonding over white supremacist music and the agreement that cultures are diluted if they are allowed to mix.

Around that time, he got a mail-order delivery from some white power distro who obviously didn't mind mailing to an Asian country. Included was a Rock Against Communism shirt.

He also had a date with a Korean girl arranged for that Saturday. He showed up with the shirt and the girl, and I got a hilarious picture of him with his arms around the girl and also our black friend Chris (ask nicely and I'll share the link).

We headed to the park, looking for the Korean skinheads. Verv really wanted them to see the shirt. I lost track of him for a moment, and then I saw the Korean skinheads. I called them over and said "Verv has something he wants to show you." Turning around, I saw Verv with his tongue in the Korean girl's throat. The lead skinhead (or the guy who spoke the best English) kept muttering "What the fuck?" Finally, Verv saw them, let go of the girl, and pulled open his bomber jacket to reveal his Rock Against Communism shirt (which I wish to remind you is not about communism, but more about multiculturalism). I got out of there that night, and later heard that Verv had to do a lot of grovelling to not get his ass kicked.

Verv's been here for over three years now, and dated quite a few more girls than I have. He's befriended non-whites, blacks, bulldykes, communists, all without changing his core beliefs (except for the one against blacks which he denies now). I offered him my username because he was clearly the bigger racetraitor than me, because not only did he sleep outside his race but he also contradicted his own beliefs.

He was anti-communist for the longest time, until he started dating a Chinese exchange student. He got a glimpse into Chinese society, and liked the authoritarian nature of it and all the "glorious" propaganda images. In one breath he was saying "Fuck Communism" and in the next he was saying "I hate all these pro-Tibetan protesters. Just leave China alone!"

Anyway, the Chinese girl recently left Verv for a Korean guy. What will he do next? Personally, I'm hoping he finds a nice Muslim girl. That would be a fiasco.

Anyway, sorry this is so long. Unlike Verv.
(racetraitor has an alibi for, Fri 31 Oct 2008, 3:06, 5 replies)

Wicker man...
If you want to see something genuinely disturbing, visit Mahone Bay, Nova Scotia, in October. Every year the residents hold a Scarecrow Festival and some of the creations are truly macabre. The town looks like it comes straight from the set of one of those "you don't want to spend a night in the old widow Johnson's house" type of rural horror movies. I was expecting every resident to have similar facial features and one of three surnames, and I'm honestly surprised there wasn't a giant, hollow wicker statue ready for immolation.
( flake has nothing against your right leg, Fri 31 Oct 2008, 2:10, 2 replies)

Eccentric teachers
We had none that match the stories ive read here so far. But having grown up and looking back through the retrospectoscope I can see that most of the eccentric behavor demosntrated by teachers was an act to engage and disarm the young'uns whilst quietly taking the piss out of us too. All the while leaving the students feeleing like we knew everything. Have a think back, I suspect your mad as a bucket of dry frogs teachers knew exactly what they were doing...crafty buggers.
(lazy killer robot found that beer tastes better when your older, Fri 31 Oct 2008, 1:51, Reply)

EccPro
I once had a professor at Uni who was a bit eccentric.
He taught Computer A.I. and always wore black. Nothing strange in that, but he always wore a black mu-mu.
This combined with his stringy Einstein hair, and lack of washing was a site to behold.

PS: He never wore shoes.
(Slatts If you cant remember it didnt happen, Fri 31 Oct 2008, 1:23, Reply)

My local college is one of the only ones in the country which does a course in parapsychology.
The course tutor, a brilliant bloke who always approaches things with an open mind, lets you make up your own mind, and offers cynical and believing sides of the argument, always wears odd shoes.

He also lives in a thatched cottage with two dinosaurs in the front garden, and has a deep and sincere love of the colour purple (not the film, btw)

(mind you, I didn't notice about the shoes at first)
(Tyburn Finds the name Lauren Muff inexplicably funny, Fri 31 Oct 2008, 0:05, 2 replies)

The Tale Of 2 Eccentrics
This is a tale that combines two meanings of the word eccentric with a disturbing yet funny outcome.

As you brainy types of B3ta will know, eccentricity is the behavioral characteristic commonly adopted by an eccentric. An eccentric is said to be creative, talented and intelligent and as a result behave in somewhat strange ways and patterns.

Eccentric is also a word used in Mechanical engineering terms to describe a circular disk that is solidly fixed to a rotating axle, this disk turns and the offset notion is where the term Eccentric comes from, i. e off centre. A bit like a peddle mechanism on a bicycle for anyone who can’t make sense of my distinct lack of ability to describe something.

Anyway, onto the story.

About 7 years ago I started my working life. I was excited, nervous and somewhat sick of the thought of my first day. As you can understand, these are three very contrasting feelings to comprehend at the same time. Mother was doing her best to settle her little soldiers nerves though and packed my lunch, ironed my brand new shirt and straightened my horrifically pink tie.

Off I trot, and eventually I arrive at work, only to be met with the horrific news that to gain me some experience in the job I would be demoted for three months from the comfort of the office, to the cold, damp and grimacing realms of a Midlands building site.

Spirits not to be broken I ruck up on site and the usual building type banter is branded upon me like, ‘son, go fetch us some sky hooks’ or ‘lad, go get me a left handed screw driver’ fucking bastards, I was a gullable twat looking back and obeyed there fantasy wishes like a nodding churchill dog.

Anyway, break time inevitably was canteen time. This involved eating grubby sandwiches, drinking horrific tea and lying about how many girls you had fucked in order to fit in with the quite frankly brain dead builder types.

It was the canteen where I, a young, enthusiastic, eighteen year old office boy got introduced to the eccentric in question. Except this eccentrics behavior could not be likened to that of an eccentric i described earlier, he was not intelligent, creative or talented. He was fucking saft as a bottle of pop and disturbingly perverted. In fact, he could quite possibly be the worlds first surviving brain donor, you know the type where your thinking, are you really that fucking stupid or do you get up early and practice?

Right, well, let’s just say ‘Bing’ (the name I shall use for said individual) was quite open about his perversions, heres a couple of his stories to put you in the picture....

He lives at home with his schizophrenic younger brother. One year, Bing decided to cook his mentally ill brother a lovely Turkey dinner at Christmas. Awwwww bless him I hear you cry. Except, let’s just say he left a nice little Christmas present in the said Turkey. Yes, Ladies and Gents, Bing had fucked the turkey, blew his man muck inside the festive beast and consciously fed it his poor bastard of a brother.

In the summer, Bing likes to get up at 5am to mow the grass. Fair enough, quite a good and productive thing to do. Until he decides to strip naked, role around in the freshly cut grass and piss all over himself that is.

On site, the more senior individuals would get apprentices including me to partake in various Bing provoking exploits. One I remember, was me and another lad whipping him as hard as we could with a copper pipe, to which he responded by purring like the happiest cat you have ever heard. To my horror he even got a hard on! Horrific.

Anyway, a few years later and I’m back in the safe office away from these cave men. A colleague and I get talking about Bing, and he tells me about a time he sold him a sofa. My colleague like me did not know what to expect when visiting Bings house.

He got there, to be greeted by Bing who proudly pointed out a swing he had made out of unistrut stolen from work. Bing beckons him in and I kid you not, the house is wallpapered from top to bottom, every surface in porno mags, lingerie cut outs and lads mags. Bear in mind Bing is in his late fifties. One cut out from a Littlewoods catalogue could be dated back to the 70’s

Yes, I know, a truly sick bastard. This is where the second meaning of the word eccentric comes into the story. Bing, being his open self invited my colleague into his garage to show off his latest boy toy. A bicycle peddle type device hooked up to a bench with a vice. On the end of the mechanism is a stick with a whip on the end. Bing pulled down his trousers and proceeded to wind this mechanism by turning the peddle, with every turn the peddle gets faster and gains momentum until the whip is lashing a good en’ and the peddle has enough momentum it doesn’t need to be wound by a human. Yes, the sick bastard stood there and shamelessly stood there grunting and groaning like a paedophile in a playground as the whip continued to smack his ass in front of my colleague.

I swear down, there are loads of other sick stories about this bloke, you have to see him to believe him. He’s actually an alright bloke really but strange as fuck.

The moral of this story is never go to Bings for dinner and never try and sell Bing a sofa.
(Sir_Digby_Chicken_Caeser [email protected], Thu 30 Oct 2008, 23:37, 3 replies)

Eccentric Or Just Geeky
.
I currently have 17 individual applications open on my taskbar. I'm using them all. And that's not counting my ridiculously overcrowded system tray.

I'm also not counting the separate instances of individual programs. Like the 3 databases I'm editing in Access or the 8 php pages I have open in PHP designer.

Cheers

Edit: 18 - just got a Skype call.
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Thu 30 Oct 2008, 23:32, 18 replies)

I once had an art teacher...
...who was utterly in favor of the more disgusting side of modern art. His personal faves seemed to be people who ate food of a certain color for a week to see if their shit turned an interesting colour, and then put it on displays in galleries.

He would describe the most recent "artistic experiment" to his class of 15-year old kids in the same breath as speaking about Giger or Da Vinci. Obviously, every year there was someone who "tried".

The last year he tried it, one of his students decided to cut herself and use her blood as paint. She proudly showed this to the class- an A3 page covered in congealed brown smears.

We could have made some very interesting art with the amount of vomit this produced. :P
(Sivvus trolley collision in the fruit aisle led to a jam, Thu 30 Oct 2008, 23:10, 2 replies)

Stusut79

( MatJ LOOK, Thu 30 Oct 2008, 23:02, 3 replies)

Loads of people
in my town carve out pumpkins near the end of every october...eccentric or what!!
(sparklehorse is loving popping his cherry...again....honest, Thu 30 Oct 2008, 23:01, 1 reply)

My friends mum
Ste's mum was mental. Everyone knew it. We used to call round for Ste - waving to him as he saw us coming up the drive from his bedroom window. We'd knock on the back door and she'd answer. "Ooh sorry Coke, Steve's not in. He's gone horseback riding" in all seriousness, she at that instant believed it. Ste would normally come down and gently tell her he was in, we'd look a bit embarrassed and come inside.

We'd go up to Ste's room, and his mum would knock on and look round the door - "boys, I've popped a pizza in the oven for you. I'm nipping out to the post office, go and help yourselves in 15 minutes".

We'd go downstairs when the time was up and open the oven door. Sometimes it would be a right mess. She would often put the pizza directly on to the oven shelves. Upside down.

One day she came home with a new pair of shoes for Ste to go to school in. Ste, being a 17 year old boy, usually had difficulty in wearing bright pink ballet shoes, best suited to an 8 year old girl. When this sort of thing happened, he normally quietly took them back and got a refund, replacing the money in his mums purse when she wasn't watching.

Ste's dad died when Ste was 22 and it was quietly devastating. His mum wasnt just a bit mental, she had early onset alzheimers and deteriorated quickly. She was eventually put in a home - Ste couldnt bring himself to clean her after she went to the toilet any more and realised he couldnt cope. The woman who ran the home said she had never seen a case quite as bad.

We went to visit her sometimes, and we'd walk her down the country lanes round the home, it was a lovely place. Most of the time she had no idea who Ste, or we were but sometimes she was more lucid. We always took carrots, because she liked to give them to horses in the field next door. They'd come over and she would stand, gobsmacked as the horses literally took the carrots from the palm of her hand. She wouldnt stop until all the carrots had gone.

One day whilst this was happening, a van pulled up, and the driver asked me for some directions. As I was explaining, Ste's mum came over and stood next to me staring at the driver. She watched him intently, then reached in her little bag and held out her palm, with a carrot resting on top, right under the van drivers nose. He looked confused. He looked at me and raised his eyebrows.

Ste's mum got annoyed and shoved the carrot forcefully right into his mouth.

We've never laughed so hard in our lives. Terrible really, but if you don't laugh, you'll go mental.
( I have run out of coke is a little sweaty, Thu 30 Oct 2008, 22:46, 8 replies)