Hippy Smell
When I was a teenaged lad, I was blessed with long golden locks that flowed halfway down my back. Had I been blessed with being a teenaged lass too, I would doubtless have spent a lot of time being popular.

As is, I was dubbed a hippy and was treated to the stupidest and dullest examples of vitriol that the local chavs (Sidenote: We used to call chavs "donors". As in "brain donor") could muster.

Generally I just ignored them. On the rare occasion that a good insult was launched my way, I filed it away for further use. However, a line has to be drawn at some point.

My line was drawn when a globular fat fuck of a woman, strolling side by side with her glamorous mate in the classic "bird and boiler" combo, shouted across the street "Hey. HEY! Fucking stinking HIPPY!". Hilarity ensued from her festering flabby face.

Hilarity continued for all of a couple of seconds. Enough time, in fact, for me to say "I'd rather be a hippy than a hippo, you wobbly wobbly wobbly fat SLUT!"

This last word, bellowed at the top of my lungs, was the one that turned her tears of mirth into...well, just tears. I don't suppose her mate stifling an audible giggle helped matters. The sobbing bohemoth walked gingerly away from the scene in tatters. I, in triumph.





The irony was that I hadn't washed for 4 days, and fucking stank.
(Light, Thu 4 Oct 2007, 19:19, Reply)