Things we do to fit in"When I was fifteen," writes No3L, "I curled up in a Budgens trolley while someone pushed it through the supermarket doors to nick vodka and Benny Hedgehogs, just to hang out with my brother and his mates."
What have you done to fit in?
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chthonic, Thu 15 Jan 2009, 12:30)
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Things we do to fit inWhen I was a 15 year old lad, back in '84, my first girlfriend lived 12 miles away in the nearest town to my village. There was only one bus a day and that was at 7am, so there was only one answer. I had to cycle.
However there was the question of how to cycle 12 miles in the 28 degree summer heat, and still look like a New Romantic when I got there.
With my limited funds, the nearest I could get to looking like Simon Le Bon was to purchase an army surplus tunic, made of that green horsehair shit. Looked cool,I thought, as long as no one noticed the sweat patches on my back and armpits.
This left me with the final issue of my hair. Now I still have hair that has a slight wave in it. Not curly enough to look after itself, but just enough life to sentence me to daily hairwashing, or having a special needs hairstyle. Aged 15, though, my hair was full Duran length, and the slightest puff of wind would send it into a sort of demented furball, which given my weekly quest of getting closer and closer to my girlfriends fanny, simply wouldn't do.
The solution? Simple.
I'm sat here still cringing, 25 years on, at the thought that I used to ride down the main road every saturday, in soaring temperatures, wearing that fucking tunic and a matching green wool balaclava.
Never did get any further than her tits.
(, Tue 20 Jan 2009, 19:14, 3 replies)
.Army surplus tunic + balaclava = trainee rapist in my book. No wonder you got nowhere near her bouncy bits, Dad was probably hanging round with a loaded Purdey.
(, Wed 21 Jan 2009, 10:13, closed)
a loaded potato?IS THAT A SPUD GUN?
(, Wed 21 Jan 2009, 10:54, closed)
to look at it another wayTits though
(, Wed 21 Jan 2009, 13:08, closed)
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