Another time in Kenya...
At about six years old, one of my friends had a birthday party - we were going to the lake, fishing. However, not deterred by the mud and stink of dead fish that one would obviously encounter on such an outing - my mum made me wear my party best: a smart, new, ironed shirt, tidily tucked into my maroon corduroy trousers.
Fancy, no? (This was the late 70's remember)
However - the fishing party was cut short when we saw a storm approaching.
One of the other lads didn't have a fishing rod, so had borrowed mine. I hadn't had a chance to use it yet, and we were going home because of the weather!
Well - he had caught five or six fish with my rod, so I suggested we share them.
He said they were his, as he had caught them.
I agreed, but explained that it was my rod he had used, I had not had a go fishing, and as such, should be allowed to claim some of the fish as mine.
But he refused to back down, saying that even though he agreed it was my rod, he had caught the fish . . . hence . . .

Then a bloody huge ugly Marabou Stork landed next to us and ate all the fish he had caught.

It was almost worth ruining my corduroy trousers over.
(SigourneysBeaver took off and nuked the entire site from orbit on, Mon 4 Nov 2013, 10:38, Reply)