Comic Books, Children, and Pretend Piss
It was a fucking hot day in North London, the type of hot that makes the grit and general airborne crap stick to your skin and give you a pebbledash complexion. I'd just been dragged round the garden centre off Kentish Town Road by Ms Hanky and wasn't in the best of moods. Unlike her, the sight of a fucking pot plant doesn't make me wet. And those little gnome things aren't "charming", they're simply a load of old bollocks.

On the way back up to our gaff in Tufnell Park Ms. Hanky notices there's a comic book fare on. As a peace offering she suggests we go in and have a look round. Now, unlike pot plants, comic books give me the horn. I pop into the newsagents and get us each a bottle of water, on account of the swealtering heat, and we go inside.

Heaven - on - fucking - Earth...

That's all I can say about this place. They've got pretty much everything on show. Ms Hanky fucks off to the toilets to do what women everywhere seem to do - have a piss whenever they see there's a toilet in the vicinity. Leaving me to wonder about in this wonderland of literary delights, with added nunchucks and blokes in tights (you don't get that in Jane-fucking-Austin).

And then I see it. Maner from fucking heaven...

Its a bog standard copy of V for Vendetta; already got a couple of those at home, but this ones been touched by God. This one bears the signature of Alan Moore...

I very nearly spaffed all over the counter. And it was going for a song. Twenty notes and the fucker would be mine. I grab the book and reach into my pocket and suddenly realise I don't have any money - I've never got any money on me, ever, when I'm about to make an impulse purchase - I'm not allowed to carry lots of cash ever since the day I turned up at the flat having shelled out five-hundred quid on a rather nifty fusball table. The Mrs. went absolutely apoplectic.

"Sorry, mate - I've got no cash on me now. Can you put this to one side for me while I go and find my Mrs and get back to you in a few minutes? She's just gone to the toilets." I say, my knuckles turning white as I clung onto the book.

The bloke behind the counter shakes his head. "No - can't keep anything aside. Got no guarentee you'll come back." And he stood there looking and acting like Comic Book Guy out of The Simpsons. Arggghhh, cunty-bollocks!!!

"That's ok, mate - I'll just stand here and wait for the Mrs..." I say. And I do. And after a few moments I see her spikey blonde head from a distance as she exits the building. Fuck! She hadn't seen me and must've thought I'd gone outside to have a fag.

"Oh, go on, mate - I'll be thirty seconds," I plead. The bloke behind the counter isn't interested, he waves me off while he serves another customer.

Shit...

With great reluctance I place the graphic novel signed by God back on the table, I hide it behind loads of other shit, and I race outside. I find Ms. Hanky and she smiles at me as I approach.

I reciprocate with an urgent: "Give me some fucking money!" Waving my hands about like a complete and utter cock. When a few people nearby realise she isn't being mugged and is, in point of fact, the unfortunate partner of this twat before them, they go about their business. When I get the cash I sprint back towards the comic book place. "Can't talk! See you in a few minutes!" I scream over my shoulder.

And then I get back inside, hurtle towards the table, and make a b-line for the treasure I would gladly kill for. And it was gone...

"Fuck!" I spit. Then I look over to my left and see my book being despoiled by a fucking child. A little shit had my book under his arm! Grrrr! I overhear some plumy cunt from the otherside of the room shout over:

"Ollie, darling! We're going now! Come on, mummy's waiting!"

Ollie, the little shit, looks up: "Alright, daddy! I just need to pay!"

Aaa-HAAAA!!!

I approach the kid, my nemisis, the seven year old wanker between me and eternal fucking happiness: "Do you really want that?"

The kid looks up at me: "I saw the film and it was good." He says.

"No, it was not a good film," I say, irritated."- anyway, I would really like to buy that book. I mean REALLY. How about letting me, I mean, I was here first."

"No you wern't."

"Yes I was."

"No you wern't."

"Yes I was-"

And I proceed to have a pointless fucking row with a seven year old.

After thirty seconds of stalemate I considered twatting the little fucker. Hmmm, probably wouldn't go down too well. I looked up across the crowded room and noticed the kids dad was starting to make his way over to us. Shit, gotta move fast.

I decided to try and reason with the bloke who was running the stall - give it all the 'please, mate - I'd really appreciate this book unlike this prepubescent little turd'. But the bloke was busy way over the otherside of his stall.

So I did the only reasonable thing.

All this time I'd been clutching my bottle of water. In my excitement I hadn't had a drop. Fuck it, I thought. In one swift motion I unscrewed the cap and splashed it on the kids crotch.

"Why did you do that?" He screamed.

I ignored him.

Then his dad turned up: "Ollie! We have to go now- oh dear, what happened?"

"I think he's had an accident, mate," I say.

And the kid is whisked off in a whirl of protest.

I pick up the signed copy of V for Vendetta and wave the twenty in the face of the stall owner. "There you go, mate!" I say, and I walk back home on cloud nine, holding the book as if it was the ultimate holy relic, which, in fact, I suppose it was...
( SpankyHanky, Tue 21 Apr 2009, 15:56, 14 replies)

I would have done the same.
And what kind of parent lets their seven year old child watch V for Vendetta? I mean come on it's shite, they should have parent skills courses where they're learned quality control.
(Dangerous Disco Trev Isn't my real name, Tue 21 Apr 2009, 16:04, closed)

Ha! Well done for using brains over brawn.
I would probably just have whisked it away from him, paid the man and got the hell out of dodge.
( Colonel Dracula Two manky hookers and a racist dwarf, Tue 21 Apr 2009, 16:29, closed)

£500
on a fussball table, now that's my kind of guy.

The game of kings....well, that and the darts of course.

do you still play? or did she make you sell it?
(Cancer Joy was short lived, Tue 21 Apr 2009, 16:31, closed)

It was fucking ace!
You could even clip off the colours of the teams and put on different strips.

But unfortunately the Mrs reasoned that I had to get rid of it. She gave me a choice: fusball or sex. It was a damn hard decision, but I eventually decided I'd quite like a bit more sex.
( SpankyHanky, Tue 21 Apr 2009, 16:38, closed)

aw come on
that's what the internet is for, wanking, a safe alternative to humping...

I have spent far too long buffing my rods and shining my balls, and i have played the fussball loads as well...seriously but, it is addictive as fuck. i prefer the old cork ball, much quieter and more control

i have installed mine in my garage/gentlemans club. in with the dartboard, slide projector and piss pots.

Thats right, not even any need to open the garage door, once the lid is shut, we are in for the duration ;-)
(Cancer Joy was short lived, Tue 21 Apr 2009, 16:47, closed)

Fuck me!
Sounds like heaven on earth, mate. Just as long as you don't need to wear a tux to get in. Could just turn my coat inside out - looks like a rather nifty smoking jacket if I do that.
( SpankyHanky, Tue 21 Apr 2009, 16:53, closed)

mate
It really is superb, it's like having a bachelor pad, but its in a garage, and i don't fuck random woman in there. but other than that its the same...

i also bought a really lovely retro Rotel amplifier and have jizzed it up to a few speakers and take my laptop in for impromptu 'recording sessions', aka making a fucking racket with ReBirth or Traktor.

Was thinking about drilling a good size hole in the side of the garage to negate the need for piss pots. then maybe convince the scraggly cow next door to put the 'glory' into glory hole....through the hedge, then slip a few coins out to keep her coming back....

no tux required, only gifts of booze and any narcotic you happen to have handy....yer on the list, in ye get!!
(Cancer Joy was short lived, Tue 21 Apr 2009, 17:01, closed)

Nice one!
And if your next door neighbour has a pet dog, the glory hole idea would probably be an awful lot better...
( SpankyHanky, Tue 21 Apr 2009, 17:05, closed)

You twat
this kid probably can't stop wetting the bed due to flashbacks of the nasty man spraying him with water...


Funny as fuck story tho!

Gets a click from me!
(Fuckarma was masturbating into your handbag, Tue 21 Apr 2009, 17:11, closed)

LOL
Getting very weird looks from others in the office now :-)
(Milly One, Tue 21 Apr 2009, 17:14, closed)

Fuckin great mate
funny as!
(Lizard King, Tue 21 Apr 2009, 17:15, closed)

You are probably
going to go to hell, you know that *clicks*
(Grrrrr Tigers, Tue 21 Apr 2009, 17:16, closed)

Excellent
I would have used the extra water on the other books to teach the twatty stall holder for not holding it for you!

Winner declared - click

Next week - Bachelor Pads!!
(Suck it and Sea, Tue 21 Apr 2009, 18:44, closed)

You, sir,
are a god.
(The Artist Formerly Known As &c You can order curries ONLINE these days., Wed 22 Apr 2009, 10:06, closed)