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This is a question Intense Friendships

The other night a friend confessed to a really intense friendship when he was young. Nothing sexual or anything, but it did extend to always going to the toilet together. As he put it, "we shared our poos."

Think back to the innocence of blood brothers and being friends forever and tell us the stories of loyalty, commitment and how it all went horribly wrong. You've seen Heavenly Creatures...

(, Fri 28 Jul 2006, 10:21)
Pages: Popular, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

First post-glory and honour!
When I was a young lad, I had a friend called 'Tmi' (name scrambled for annonimity). We did indeed do everything together for he lived next door but one to me.
So one fine afternoon, fresh from 'George's Marvelous Medicine' we decided to prepare our own concoction. Amongst the ingredients were soured milk, shampoo, tree sap, hair, water (of course), marmite, valve oil (he played the trumpet), spittle and last but not least a twist of urine derived from a communal pissing session into a bucket behind my house.
Being the charming kids we were we then thought who better to test this new invention upon, than his younger sister. Three days of her hospitalisation and the lesson had been learnt.
Surprisingly 'Tmi' and I are still best mates, although he does now live on the other side of town :)

Apologies to said sister of 'Tmi'.
(, Tue 1 Aug 2006, 13:55, Reply)
I was in the boy scouts
So I had loads of friends who were "In Tents"

I havent had any intense friends but I did work for Games workshop about 10 years ago and now I run into all of the old Gamers/customer (who were about 15 at the time) when im clubbing and they think I still like them and am willing to talk to them. I only talked to them in the first place as it was my job. Some of the customers used to follow me around town when I finished work and would chat to me as if i was their best mate. I'm glad I got a proper job and stopped having to speak to them in a civil manner.

(, Tue 1 Aug 2006, 13:46, Reply)
Monkey - what a wierdo
When I was younger (bout 10 ish) I used to hang around with this kid nicknamed Monkey. Just in case you were wondering, he was called that because he looked like a monkey in all his baby pictures.

Anyway for his tenth birthday he had a party round his house. Me and a few other kids from school were invited. We were all messing about, getting sugar rushes off the vast amounts of cherryade and sweets we'd been supplied with by his mum.

Monkey had a giant teddy bear, roughly about the same size as him which we were pretending to do Wrestling moves on, as ten year olds do. Monkey, being a dirty little bastard got a bit over excited and pulled his trousers and pants down and started to try and shag the teddy bear while shouting 'Oh its Jet' (Jet from the popular early 90's TV series Gladiators by the way)

Fair play to Monkey, if you're gonna have imaginary sex with a teddy bear in front of your mates at least do it while shouting out the name of a fitty. Jet from Gladiators was a right looker! Nevertheless that vision will stay with me for the rest of my life. I stopped hanging out with Monkey a short time after that.
(, Tue 1 Aug 2006, 12:14, Reply)
abuse magnet
well, having been a slightly odd and quiet kid, skinny as a twig and frequently bullied, I did seem to attract 'best friends' of the bolshy, over-assertive, spoilt brat kind.

My first best friend was a boy, who we will call J for now. He was actually very sweet, funny and clever, though he did taste of fishfingers, which isn't a great motive for kissing boys. I'll get back to him.

M, who was a spanish girl who spent her whole time leaving out information when we played games etc. so she would have a chance to make a fool of me and laugh about it to everyone else in class.

Then it was E, a spoilt little girl, who spent the whole time pitying me, allowing me to play with her and my tragic lack of a horse. It should be noted at this point she was wildly posh, but my family are pretty averagely middle class. we never really went short of anything, so treating me like a benefits kid was somewhere between a bit much and a sign that she was a bit scared of the real thing.

Then G - she should have gone to an Italia Conti drama school. Constantly spoke in a fake Yank accent, sang all the time in that musical nasal noise and was generally just annoying.

I could go on. But lets skip to near the end of secondary...

K. Short, sort of round, claimed to be bisexual (well, Suede were big at the time, it was fashionable to say that, though i'm more gay than she ever was and i'm straight) and bearing more than a passing resemblance to Maladicta's lady stalker. I was, by this point, the very definition of the quiet/ugly friend. She hung out backstage with bands, i was the lookout. She dictated my outfits, and developed a kind of weird emotional hold over me. By the time I arrived at college, a different one to hers, she really had a quite fierce grip on me, even down to convincing me what my taste in men was. She got off with my childhood sweetheart, J, which if I'm honest really quite pissed me off.

I had a bit of a life-changing moment on arriving at college, surrounded by some fantastic people, and realised a) I choose my friends, not the other way round, b) I'm actually reasonably attractive, c) I do have a voice of my own, and d) I'm not into wan looking girly men. On getting my A level results, K rang and asked for mine, I got three As (fluke), she hung up on me. I didn't hear from her for six months.

At uni, my roomie and I were also fairly intense, but for slightly more tragic reasons. She suffered a terrible allergic reaction on her first night in halls, and i spent the week nursing her. She then slipped into a chronic depression, but through this we were extremely close and still had some great times. She is still, in my mind, my very best and closest friend. Can't say a bad word about her, except she did tend to hog the sink a lot.

During this first year, K rocked up again. After trying to get off with various friends of mine, and sneaking back into my life through a series of manipulative moves and some crazy shouting, decided one night to admit her undying love to me going way back. Which slightly f***ed me off. Who crawls back into someone's life, acts the friend, before trying to get off with them? Stayed polite and said I wasn't really bent that way (which is true, but if I were it sure as hell wouldn't be with a crazy woman in a shocking pink poncho who tells me all my friends are evil). She went away after ringing during me and my flatmates all watching Magnolia on video and I asked her to call back in ten minutes - never heard from her again. Shame. Ahem. Last I heard, she was living with a post-op transexual, who ex was stalking them. Guess she'll realise her dream of one day appearing on Springer, then.

Anyway, these days I have all my lovely GOOD friends, some very old ones who I would never have counted at the time but are all-important now, some college mates, uni friends, all fab. And a lovely man.

Sorry for length, it's all very cathartic this.
(, Tue 1 Aug 2006, 11:49, Reply)
I still know a guy who.....
At 28, still wants to 'pretend' that we have fallen out and that we 'hate' each other and want to punch each other senseless. Then we arrange a date, time for the fight and gather an audience of our mates. Then we....wait for it....Fight with lightsabres!!!!!.......and yes i did say he was 28. He wanted to choreagraph some lightsabre fight to impress everyone because "It will be funny".

Now im 28 too and I dont mean to sound like an old fart but grow up for fucks sake!

I was rather dissappointed as I do hate him and want to punch him senseless but i'm too scrawny and he is rather fat

He also has a bad habit of buying the same shoes or combats that I do and if I get a job somewhere he applies for it too. The only thing he cant seem to copy is passing the same exams as me, which means he is no longer in my year at uni, fucking woo!
(, Tue 1 Aug 2006, 11:30, Reply)
Short but intense
My ex and I had finished Uni and were looking for a house share over the summer to drag out the end of student life as long as possible.

We found a nice house with 2 existing occupants who, at first blush, seemed perfectly normal.

We moved in our stuff at about lunchtime and chatted to the couple. Very kindly they asked whether we would want to go out that evening to a country pub with them in their car. We had other plans so politely declined. And declined some more when they asked again. And declined some more... And some more. Eventually they took no for an answer (and to be honest we would have gone if we could - until perhaps about the 5th ask when we started to get a little spooked).

Anyway, the couple sounded a little miffed about this and, if they hadn't before, started to act a little strangely. We went out on our separate evenings (locking our bedroom door as now we were a bit freaked out) and made sure we got back after them and snuck into our room and straight to bed.

Next morning. My ex came back from the bathroom with a troubled look on her face and her electric toothbrush in hand. The head of the brush had obviously been used to scrub away at something quite vigorously as all the bristles were clearly bent and nicely stained. We examined all the possibilities but the only rational (?) explanation was that our charming housemates had snuck into our bedroom at night, taken her brush, cleaned their toilet/oven/arseholes with it and put it back in the room. We thought that a little OTT for the horrendous crime of not going to a pub one evening so we waited for them to leave in the morning and about 3 minutes later in somewhat of a hurry. As I say, short but intense.

(We should have realised something was amiss when Mr from the couple exclaimed how genuinely proud he was of the 5*s he had from McDonalds having worked there only a few months and that he had been promoted all the way to the number 2 chip frier. Loser. Nothing wrong with working in McDs but it's nothing to aspire to when you're 25!)
(, Tue 1 Aug 2006, 10:23, Reply)
Nearly fucked a monster!
When I was 15, I'd made some new friends who went to a different school. Now, of these new friends, I'd met friends of these friends and friends of friends of these friends. In all, I'd managed to make about 60 new friends in the space of a month!

There was this one lass, whose name I shalln't reveal (in case she reads this and knows it's me and tries to get in touch). So I'll call her B.

Becki B was a really nice lass. A bit strange but nice. However, she was as attractive as a breeze block. We'd met up a few times, gone out (not alone) and were pretty decent mates.

Then, one day we were chatting about birthdays. Her birthday, it emerged, was on the same day as mine. We would both turn 16 on the same day. What a funny coincidence. She said "Haha, you know it would be funny if we slept with each other that day, and we could both have our first legal shag! Hahahahahaha". Joining in the joke, I said "Hahahahahaha, yeah, hahahahhahahahaahahahahahahlaughlaughlaugh"

Two weeks later, she'd told everybody she'd come into contact with that we were gonna do it on our 16th birthday. For the first time in my life, I was going to fuck a monster*.

I've JUST remembered this: I went to this school gig at the school that she went to, and we met up. It just happened to be Valentines day. She told her mates (who I'd never met before) that I was her date, and that we were probably going to start a fully-fledged relationship soon! She told her friends this in my presence! Fucking weirdo!

Now, I'm really not the type of person who likes to let people down, so I had two options:

1. Fuck her
2. Start dating one of her mates who, to be honest, I didn't really fancy.

I chose 2. And thankfully, managed to hold the relationship with her until about 2 weeks after my birthday.

And, on the plus side, turns out the lass I dated had the coolest mates ever, and now, 3 and a bit years later, I'm still best mates with them, and haven't spoken to the weird lass or the ex-missus for over 2 years! Yay!

* whilst sober.
(, Tue 1 Aug 2006, 10:12, Reply)
20 Something So No Excuse!
Although straight as a die I do engage every now and again in a bit of girlie snogging action.

My best mate and I were chilling out in my living room with a fair few bottles of wine and having a bit of a smoke and regailing the tales of the best/worst kissers we'd ever encountered (horror stories aplenty!). When she came over all paranoid that somebody out there was sitting exactly in the same position as us talking about her.

She decided she needed to know whether or not she was a good kisser and since I was the only one present I was to be the one to find out.

Much giggling later I confirmed that all was well. This apparently was not enough and dragged me in to the centre of town to find a suitable male tester. Cue some poor lad staggering home being pounced upon by said mate without so much as a hello. Feeling bored myself I didn't hesitate when I was invited to join in.

Good night had by all but left us feeling rather red faced in the morning. Still my friend even if I sometimes I get the odd flashback at the most inopportune momments!

Two girls so apologies for lack of length or girth.
(, Tue 1 Aug 2006, 9:55, Reply)
...you sound like a perfectly normal, well balanced individual, who miraculously hasn't managed to be permanently warped but what sounds to be a manipulative, selfish and fucked up bully. Never mind grunting next time you see him, tell the bastard to feck off!
(, Tue 1 Aug 2006, 9:07, Reply)
I'm glad I don't know any gays, they sound really wierd if these stories are true
(, Tue 1 Aug 2006, 8:37, Reply)
What is it with these people?
Once my rugby playing, party-hosting twat of a neighbour moved out, it was nice to see a young couple moving into the flat below mine. Nicer still when the girlfriend in the couple came up to introduce herself. She seemed nice, talked rather a lot but nothing too bad.
Then came the bunny boiler moments.
They invited us to dinner one evening at 7. I got home from work at 6.45 and on the dot of seven, footsteps on the stairs, and the boyfriend at the door, "Are you coming down then?"
The girlfriend and my girlfriend went to the movies together, bear in mind this was the second time they'd met, and the girlfriend decided to confide in mine that her boyfriend was the only person who'd ever given her orgasms. Nice.
The regular knocks on the door to ask if we were ok, because they'd "Not heard us in a couple of hours" became an irritation.
We moved a few months later, and they tried to stay in contact, but caller ID helped us to ignore them a lot.
(, Tue 1 Aug 2006, 8:21, Reply)
The fact that when the QOTW is about wanking, poo, drinking, getting maimed/nearly killed, maiming/nearly killing other people, fights and other emotionally scarring subjects there are usually 20 pages of stomach churning/buttock clenching answers at this point, whereas as soon as the subject turns to friendship we have but 4 says a lot about how odd b3tans clearly are.

I've never had a friendship along these lines before but I have to say they do sound jolly good fun. so if anyone's interested.....
(, Tue 1 Aug 2006, 6:37, Reply)
Cliché, but meh.
I had this group of friends once, we were pretty tight. You know, held masses and that together. Well, me and this one guy, we were so intense. One day, and this was back before the whole gay-thing was alright, well one day he walks up to me while I'm in these gardens and he kisses me, right there and then. Proper passionate like.

Well of course, there was fucking outrage!
These big heavy clad soldiers, they ran right up to me. Picked me up, gave me the whipping of my life, then stuck me on a crucifix. Thankfully my auld man helped me out, but still...

We never spoke much after that. Dunno why, just didn't see him about. I reckon he's probably down south or summat.
(, Tue 1 Aug 2006, 4:17, Reply)
Gay Dave
I went to uni in Bangor at the age of 18, I ended up dropping out and nearly joining the police. I didn’t and I ended up going back to uni in Manchester, then MSc in Lancaster and soon to start a PhD at Cranfield. Anyway, I digress.

I cant remember how I met this guy, but I did. His name was Dave, I referred to him to my friends as Gay Dave, seeing as he was the only gay bloke we knew, and we knew many other Daves.

Gay Dave was intense. In my 1st year he would call me and ask me to go round to his flat to have a drink and watch a film, which I would think was because I thought we were mates. I also thought I was being dead grown up being friends with a gay guy. My tipple at the time was Southern Comfort and Lemonade, he would buy a new bottle each time I went round for me to have a drink, and would always cook a full roast dinner. In my naivety I thought he was just being a nice guy.

He told me lots about his past. One time he told me about his ex-boyfriend Rob. Apparently Rob liked to dress as a baby when they were getting it on. Apparently Dave liked it. He also told me that he had been banned from returning to his home town because he was some sort of gangster (I didn’t believe it for a second). With many other things that happened it slowly dawned on me that he was a bit scary. At the time I wasn’t very good at fu$king people off. I didn’t, and still don’t, like to offend people. At the end of the year he bought me a £50 summer ball ticket for my birthday, even though he wouldn’t be going. I went home for the summer, he stayed in Bangor. Over this summer holiday I started to go out with a girl who was one of my best friends.

I didn’t see him until I moved back up there for my 2nd year. I of course went to see my ‘mate’ and catch up. After a while, and a few drinks, he told me he had always liked my legs, and wanted to touch them. I said no of course. He then told me that my girlfriend would not be faithful to me and that her and my two other best friends (who I lived with) all laughed at me behind my back. I made my excuses and left.

I went home and told my girlfriend, I felt really shit and had a bit of a cry. I never answered a call from him again, and if I saw him in the street I would run away. Four years later, my life feels better without that scary, scary bloke.
(, Tue 1 Aug 2006, 1:22, Reply)
Well, my girlfriend has a friend at Uni, a gay fella. He got her drunk the other week, and slept with her. I'd say that's a pretty intense friendship.
(, Tue 1 Aug 2006, 0:33, Reply)
Limpetgirl (I seem to attract these people)
In my first year of uni, while I was dealing with Stalker Boy, a particularly scary girl latched on to me. She was weird in many ways - for starters, she was a fourth-year who seemed to have no friends of her own, whereas I'd made quite a few and she declared I had none and 'felt sorry for me' - something she said to anyone she met when I was with her.

Within five minutes of meeting me, she was telling me all the intimate details of her sex life with her ex, "Beennn...", which was definitely more than I needed to know, and how she was 'completely over him', but for some reason he still worked his way into every conversation.

She was, basically, a spoilt rich brat from Tooting who thought because she lived in London she was better than everyone. Her housemates hated her (one of them was Hindu and she used her spoon to cook some beef mince, she never took the bins out and ordered takeaway at 4am), and as far as I could tell her friends had an average age of 50. She had an iPod she didn't know how to use, a then brand-new flip phone she didn't have a clue about, and the world's sexiest laptop she could just about find MSN on.

She spent her entire life sat on her bed watching DVDs (mainly Sex and the City) on her laptop, skiving lectures and moping over the ex she broke up with a year ago, even though she was 'so over him'. She would also call me at any time of the day or night, and if I didn't pick up (for about three months after the sound of my phone ringing gave me the Pavlovian reaction of picking it up and throwing it as far as I could onto something soft where I wouldn't hear it vibrate), she'd ring back a minute later. Again and again and again and again. Even if I was in a seminar, again and again and again and again. And when I eventually did pick up, I'd be greeted by one of three things:
"FUCKINGHELLYOUFREAK! Answer your phone!"
"*snif**sob*I saw Beeeennnnn taaaalking to.... *gasp* a GIRL!"
"Heeeey, want to come over for dinner, I'm really lonely and I don't like cooking for one and besides you can't cook..."
Argh. This went on for months and no matter how many excuses I gave, like "Look, I'm out with friends, I'll call you tomorrow" or whatever, she'd whine "YOU JUST DON'T GET IT, DO YOU? FUCKINGHELL! I'm lonelyyyyyy, don't forget about me...". I learned to tell her I was out in town because if I said I was in any of the campus bars she'd be there ten minutes later, sometimes in her pyjamas (and she was not a small girl), would stay for five minutes before getting bored and going home, then phoning me the next day to leave me a ten-minute voicemail about how I'd 'ignored her' the night before and that my friends 'weren't very focused...'.

(EDIT: Queen of Cheesecake - I think I know you, and if I do then you'll definitely know who I'm talking about.)

I should add at this point that the reason she was a fourth-year was because she spent the entire second year getting stoned and shagging in the most disgusting way imaginable (think of the most horrifically disgusting porn you've ever seen - not as bad as the South Park movie one, but almost) with Beennn and had to repeat. Therefore, all her friends had sensibly told her to fuck off, and/or graduated.

Seven hundred in the red, minus five books, most of my CDs and plus two stone later, I've had enough. The weight gain was thanks to her takeaway habit and fondness for dragging me to Bluewater, insisting overdrafts were there to be spent. However, unlike her, getting out of the red wasn't as simple for me as ringing home going "Mummy, I'm poooooor...", and getting £1000 no questions asked.

Long story short, I got my books and DVDs back and didn't hear from her for about a month and a half. I got to hang around with all my old friends, who'd been wondering what I'd done to them, and I got on with my life. About a month and a half later I'm walking back to my house with a friend and someone I know comes towards me - "You know that scary fat girl, what's her name?" "Limpetgirl..." "Well, she's looking for you, I'd hide."

So, we went back to my room and watched Sex and the City, which I'd borrowed from her, in the dark with my curtains closed. Ten minutes of paranoid silence later, tap tap tap, exactly like the boyfriend did. The bitch knew that, I opened the curtains and there she was, grinning psychotically at me and demanding her DVDs back NOW. The friend who was with me knew the full story of her scariness and immediately burst into fake tears. "Sorry hun, it's not a good time - Alison's had a man crisis." "FUCKINGHELLYOUFREAK!" (if you haven't guessed, these were her favourite words, generally said as one word) "All I want is my DVDs, and I haven't seen or heard from you in a month, I've been in London because I was ill. Beennn failed his degree, ha ha ha..." (Probably because he was stressed out because she was stalking him.) Sensing now she was back there'd be another month of getting fat and listening to her bitch, I say "Yeah, sorry about that - my SIM died - here's my new number - 07madeupnumber...", and off she went.

She must have got the hint because I never heard from or saw her again.

I promise I have no more scary ex-friends.

EDIT: It's worth noting that, on hearing me bitch about Stalker Boy, she said "FUCKINGHELLYOUFREAK! HE'S YOUR BEST FRIEND! DON'T YOU DARE DUMP HIM!"
(, Mon 31 Jul 2006, 23:55, Reply)
Some Sons Do 'Ave Em
I'm sitting here, with one eye reading through this weeks QOTW posts and the other watching 'The Three Amigos', when who should walk into my room???......it was none other than my mother.

She walked right up to the edge of me laptop screen (that's placed at groin height), which I have one eye placed upon remember, and asks, "Do you want a sandwich before I go to bed?". I appreciated her concern for my appetite, but what I didn't appreciate was the way she scratched her muff whilst asking me said question.

I dread to think what she does when she thinks nobody's looking.
(, Mon 31 Jul 2006, 23:52, Reply)
The Tale of Stalker Boy
(I'll condense this as much as I can, it's a long story.)

When I was nine or so a new kid joined my school in the middle of the year. Nothing new there, except my mum struck up a friendship with their mum, and invited them both round for tea. I was NOT happy. The problem?
He was a BOY! Ewwww! (if you're nine it's ewww, anyway.)
Anyway, we shall call him Andrew, for that is his name. And on meeting him properly my mum announced that he was 'such a lovely boy, so gifted at the piano' and more or less said "you be nice to him or ELSE." I wasn't keen on him, he used to call me stupid names and rubbed my cat's fur the wrong way (she bit him, woo). So yeah, he only put on the nice act for parents. Git. And because our mums were friends, he decided we absolutely HAD to be friends and so wherever I went in school I had a fat-kid shadow. Even though we had absolutely nothing in common and he smelt (like boys do when you're nine).
Yay. So obviously at that age all my little girlie friends were going "Andrew fancies Maladicta! Andrew fancies Maladicta!". Bearing in mind he's still the campest kid I've ever seen, but he never denied it. Such was his power over people's parents that when he claimed some of my friends had ganged up on him and kicked him to the ground (there were apparently five of them and he was twice the size of all of them) my mum wouldn't let me see them out of school for a month. I was only allowed to see him. So yeah, one-sided intense friendship.

Fast forward ten or so years and we're doing A-levels. He falls out with a mutual friend (a bitchy gay guy called Tris) and spends all his time whining to me about how unpopular he is and how mean Tris is being to him, and so on and so on. And at this point, it's just me and him doing A-levels in French and German, So just me and him in the classes. In between making disgusting stories up about me getting raped by our disturbing German teacher, he liked to report back to me everything mean people said about me and then say "Calm down dear, it's a commercial" when I got upset. After we finally left that dump and went to uni I spent my entire first term getting preachy emails off him going on about "you're far too eager to loose [sic] your virginity and that's not right. You must wait for the absolute perfect moment and the absolute perfect person..." - annoying enough as it is, but meanwhile he's shagging anything with a pulse and expects me to act differently. He also wanted to meet "anyone you even kiss once to see if they get my approval or not, and if I don't like him and he's not right for you I will sort him out!!!!!". And "How do you know your 'friends' at uni aren't talking about you right now? They don't know you like I do.", "How do you know he's not with you for a bet?", "I think you should come home every weekend so I can give you a big hug!!!!!"

There were hundreds of these emails, and basically, he was trying to undermine my confidence all the time, convince me everyone was out to get me and the only person I could trust in the world was him, because everyone else hated me, and so because he was my only friend I needed to spend £50 a week on coming home for about three hours. And in case you hadn't gathered, I was only allowed to have one friend. Him. Not to mention the lie he told me about how my parents asked him to tell them if a man even breathed on me - he begged me not to tell them I knew "because then they won't trust me any more...". He liked to smarm up to my parents every time he came over (uninvited, a lot) by asking them all about Wales, how he wanted to learn Welsh, and most annoying of all, he'd take the piss out of me in front of them for things he'd lost his temper over - stupid things like needing to go to the toilet during a film or get cash out would result in him yelling "OH FOR GOD'S SAKE! YOU HAVE NO COMMON SENSE!" and similar things, then going quiet on me for hours on end. He was a fucking nightmare and as he'd got himself in so deep with my parents (I'm convinced he fancies my mum) it took me months to convince them he was bad news and that no, I did not want him in the house ever again.

In the meantime, at the end of my first term at uni he invites himself down to stay (by telling my parents I'd invited him and by the time they mentioned it to me they were halfway there). Thank Eris it was the end of term because I'd told all my friends he wasn't my friend, but stalker boy, and I don't think I could have dealt with anyone I have respect for meeting him. So we spent a hellish day and a half with him wanting to meet up with all my friends so he could judge them, and giving me endless hours of lectures about 'forgive and forget' and the 'fun we had in our lessons' and 'what a special bond we have because of our languages'. That would be the same bond that only he can see.

It was the same a month or so before when I came home for a couple of days and the minute I got home he was there like a lovesick puppy. He backed me into a corner about coming to stay with him for a couple of days, and when I got on the train he rang me "Now then dear, you are on the right train, aren't you? The one that says Nottingham on the front?" (He always calls me 'dear', which is another thing that makes him such a prick.) And when I got off the train he grabbed me and hugged me (think the anti-escape orb from The Prisoner crossed with Homer Simpson) and said "Ooh, it's so good to see you, dear! By the way, everyone thinks you're my ex."
WTF? doesn't come close to what I said. So I had to spend a day or so with him and his surprisingly nice uni friends knowing that they all thought we'd... ewwwwwwwww (whatever age you are). So that was fun.

And finally, he was at his absolute worst Christmas 2004 - he invited me and my parents to theirs for Christmas dinner. Bear in mind my parents are at this point slowly coming round to the idea that he's an abusive cunt. We get there, and he hugs my mum and kisses her on the cheek, then does the same to me. Again, ewwwwwwww (you know what you do when scary lipsticky aunties with moustaches try to kiss you? Yep, I did that). He spent all of the time we were there trying to humiliate me by dragging up things from primary school and generally being his usual self "Ooh, do you remember when this happened, dear? Why don't you try the Elvis wig on? Does it still take you five hundred hours to get ready in the morning, and put on all your bloody make-up and do your hair and choose some shoes?". This is why I don't understand why any girl in her right mind wants to shag him.

Finally, he said it was time to open presents. He bought my mum a pot plant, my dad something random I don't remember and what did he buy me? A fucking lacy garter. "Er, thanks..."

The final thing he did that really pissed me off was his opinion of my choice of university. I go to uni in Canterbury, which is fairly sleepy and doesn't have the world's most intense nightlife, and I like it that way. He goes to Nottingham, with its 5000 clubs and someone getting raped, mugged or stabbed every day. He told me once "You live in a rosy little world there and it wouldn't hurt you to come into the real world..." (read: transfer to Nottingham so I can stalk you easier), and I said "At least I'm not afraid of being raped every time I leave my house." To which he replied "It'd do you good to have to worry about that, it'd toughen you up."

Since then I've blocked him on MSN, ignore all his calls and texts, and only see him when absolutely forced to. If he does contact me, I grunt answers and get away from him as quickly as I can. The worst part is that he thinks what he's doing is totally normal and can't understand why I'm 'so funny with me now, it must be her uni friends and boyfriend that have turned her against me...'. He also likes to brag about his sexual conquests to me (again, ewwwwwwww), and how because he's too pretentious to be anything like anyone else, he's "trisexual - gay, straight and bi all in one." Seriously. His mum knows better than he does that I'm sick of him - you know that Friends episode where Monica goes out with the guy from high school and he's no different? That's him, but looking like Toadie from Neighbours's ugly brother.

I would apologise for length, but I'm guessing he has none. I'd rather not find out. Ever. Ewwwwwww.
(, Mon 31 Jul 2006, 23:28, Reply)
How close is Harry to Voldermort?
As Harry and Hagrid were walking within the grounds of Hogwart's. Harry's scar started to tingle. "Hagrid, how did I get my scar, and why does it tingle?" asked the young wizard. "Well you see Harry, when your mum got pregnant with you, your mum and dad didnt know how they would cope. So your mum ended up pimping herself out and offering her body for sexual pleasures of frustrated men. Her prices were fair, considering how good she was at sucking my ..." Hagrid realised he shouldnt be telling Harry about his mother's sordid past. Luckily Harry interrupted "But Hagrid what does this have to do with my scar?" Maybe not a lucky intervention as first thought. "Well you see, the thing is Harry, as your mum got further into her pregnancy, she was still on the game. The bigger the bump the more despicable the actions had to be. But one wizard Harry had a very big Magic Wand" Hagrid nudged Harry and smiled to himself at his euphemism and continued "Well his Magic Wand was so big, it went straight into her womb and stabbed you right in the head, leaving you with that scar." Harry was devastated, and began to ponder "But Magic Wands are round and fat, they couldnt do a thing like this" Harry pointed to his scar, hoping Hagrid would proclaim he was just bluffing. Hagrid began to talk "Well thats the thing Harry, Lord Voldemort..." Harry looked dumbfounded upon hearing Lord Voltermort's name "Opps wasnt meant to say that.The wizard has a very thin pointy Magic Wand, just like a pencil with a sharp lead. Hagrid giggled while Harry looked perplexed and anguished from what he had heard, and screamed "So Lord Voldemort scared me whilst doing the bang-bangs with my mother. But why the black magic, do I get tingling sensations from the scar? Hagrid sat down on a near by stone and told Harry to sit and calm down, before he replied to the question. Hagrid cleared his throat, sat upright and looked uncomfortable "You see Harry, every time Lord Voldermort gets a tingle in his loins..." Harry interrupted "Whats a tingle in your loins?" Hagrid composed himself again and said sheepishly "A tingle in your loins, is an erection Harry, so every time Lord Voldermort gets a tingle, you get a tingle on your head." Hagrid began chuckling, "Hagrid how on Earth can you chuckle at all this?" Harry screeched pre-pubescent. "Sorry Harry, it's my dirty mind you see. Every time Voldemort thinks of head, ironically your head also has a tingling sensation"

True Story

p.s. sorry for it unparagraphed and badly punctuated, but i shall work on it and modify it later :)
(, Mon 31 Jul 2006, 23:25, Reply)
oh yeah....*slaps forehead*

Any chance of a detailed description of said shrine? Did it have many photos & your name lovingly picked out in bacofoil?

Sounds chilling anyway.
(, Mon 31 Jul 2006, 22:16, Reply)
in reply to soapy.....
that is freakin creepy! Ugh.
(, Mon 31 Jul 2006, 22:15, Reply)
the clue is in the title my friend
(, Mon 31 Jul 2006, 20:43, Reply)
When i were but a kid, my friends told me that the grown up name for a willy was a condom.

I believed them..

(, Mon 31 Jul 2006, 19:46, Reply)
Barbie Porn.
When I was a wee lass of seven, I had very few friends, and the friends that I did have weren't very fond of me.

Well, one of these friends was another homeschooled girl like me, and one day while she was over at my house she had a camera with her and got the bright idea to make barbie porn.

I was horrified and a bit confused at the whole thing, and hid the barbies in my closet. She decided to threaten me with "I won't be your friend anymore!"

So, I gave in.

We then proceeded to make a very strange stop-motion animation barbie porn film, including beastiality (barbie+beanie babies) and gangbangs.

Not intentionally depraved, mind you. We were young, and innocent, and we just stuck things together and went something like "OH WE'RE HAVING SEX *kiss kiss kiss*"

Imagine the looks on our mothers faces when we proudly showed them our creation at the end of the day.

Ah, the pastimes of little girls.
(, Mon 31 Jul 2006, 19:03, Reply)
My friend named Egg
Is a very good friend indeed. He's one of the people that I find when I'm drunk to tell him what a Top Bloke he is, and at such drunken parties, we often co-ordinate our pisses and talk about them at length afterwards (and having read some of these answers, I'm relieved to find I'm not alone).

Anyway, the particularly intense part of our friendship came when we were at a recording session a few weeks ago (we both play in the same band, him on guitar, me on saxophone), and, during the long intervals when neither of us were required, we were discussing how amusing it was that the far end of the saxophone is called a bell. Many bell-end jokes ensued, culminating in me, at his request I add hastily, placing the sax on his left buttock and playing a very loud low B-flat (the lowest and very reverberant note). His cheek vibrated in sympathy with the note.

He said he quite enjoyed it, but we didn't do it again, in case the sound technician saw and got the wrong idea.

So, despite us both being completely straight (no cynical laughter thanks, I speak the truth), I've put my bell on his arse and blown him. How's that for intense?
(, Mon 31 Jul 2006, 18:46, Reply)
Oi Soapy!!
What was in your nutter flatmate's room then, discovered upon plant retrieval? Tell ALL!!!
(, Mon 31 Jul 2006, 18:24, Reply)
I met my best mate Rob when I worked at McD's (See last weeks QOTW, fact fans), and the amount of shit we've gotten through together has been purely incredible. Just a sample:

- My girlfriend saying she'd fucked him because she was jealous - I was spending too much time with him, not enough with her. I spent less (read: none at all) time with her after that, which freed up even more valuable pub time.

- His girlfriend completely and utterly bitch-slapping my now-ex-girlfriend for claiming to have fucked him.

- His girlfriend (same one) blaming me for their break up (on account of my having been out helping him find a replacement for a few months before), and attacking me with a knife. Between us, we dropped her like the bitch she was - cue me restraining her while about 20 police in stab vests come bursting through the front door. My response - "Thank fuck for that - I need a pint"

- Him setting me up with a complete slut he knew, only for her to see me as a 'nice guy' and not want to ruin it by shagging me on the first night as she did with any other guy. Cue a two month relationship to get into her knickers just out of sheer male stubbornness (anyone who's heard Eddie Murphy's Raw will know what I mean), only to never call her again after I finally got some.

- Spending my 21st asleep in a nightclub with Rob sitting at the table I was under, hiding me. Followed by me being tied to a lamppost outside said nightclub at kicking out time, topless with "21 Today - Suck here" and a down arrow, resulting in total nudity within about 5 minutes, plus about 6 not-too-shabby-in-my-drunken-state girls taking turns to, ahem, wish me happy birthday before the police untied me.

- Far too many nights spent stone cold sober, first ones on the dance floor before the club even got busy (and getting asked for drugs more than once because of our behaviour)

- Far too many nights spend pissed as farts at 2am, when I had to be up at 6am for work (which is the way tonight is also going)

- Countless relationships on both sides told to fuck off because they upset either the other of us or their respective girlfriend.

That's a tiny snippet of what we've been through - basically, in 10 short years, I have more history with Rob than anyone else I do or ever have known, including family, and it's an unspoken agreement that when any of us need the other, regardless of time or circumstances, we're there, no questions asked, and after the first incident above, we decided that no woman will ever come between best mates.

* your knob joke here - £10 / weeek *
(, Mon 31 Jul 2006, 18:14, Reply)
Close friends + lending money = magic disappearance
Not me, but my daughter and Kyra (not her real name, I still love the kid) were friends from before they could talk. At 16 months they found each other and did everything together. They played together every day. We took her on family vacations before stupid Homeland Security made it a crime to host children not your own. I would mind Ky and her siblings in an emergency and her mom would return the favor. The two looked alike and used to pretend they were twins. It was especially funny when they included a 3rd friend of theirs, Portia, and pretended all three were triplets. Portia was Ghanian.

I loved this kid. She was a great little girl and I enjoyed her family. Her family was cool: the mom was in grad school, the dad was fun, the other kids were terrific.... The turd in the ointment was that they could barely keep ahead of their creditors. The family was constantly moving house, having their phone disconnected, changing schools. It was tough to keep up but we always managed.

Until the day her mother breathlessly called me and asked for money to pay the rent. She cried and swore she'd be able to pay me back in two weeks when her paycheck came. I wrote a check for 600 bucks and never heard from them again. What a dumbshit I was.

I've tried tracing them, contacting mutual friends but no luck. I'd happily make the money a gift if we could just have Kyra back in my daughter's (and our) life again.

We miss you terribly, Ky.
(, Mon 31 Jul 2006, 18:09, Reply)
Back in the day's of yore,
when i were a little wee boy,
A Hippy lived next door,
A middle aged bloke named Roy.

A nicer bloke you'd never meet,
he was always kind and meant it,
but it was those sticks, so heady and sweet,
that made it an incense friendship.

coat is on and i'm leaving the building...
(, Mon 31 Jul 2006, 16:57, Reply)
The Shrine
I once knew a bloke called JC who worked at the same place I did. We went out for Friday beers a few times, had a laugh and became mates. All quite normal.

Then it started. So slowly I didn’t notice until it was too late.

I used to stay over at his place on a Friday quite regularly after work, and got to know him and his fiancée quite well. I thought it was a bit odd that if I was still in work clothes when I went round he used to try and insist that I borrowed some clothes of his, but let it slide.

One day apparently out of the blue his fiancée dumped him, refusing to say why. I felt quite sorry for him and so started spending more time with him, then when he had to give up the flat they’d shared I invited him to move into the spare room at our place.

One or two of his friends whom I’d got to know made a few comments about how cool it was that JC & I would have a new gay pad, but I naturally assumed this was their sense of humour so again thought no more of it.

I started to notice a few things of mine going missing, but as it was a shared house populated my a bunch of slightly dodgy types, with even dodgier mates, I chalked this up to experience and made sure my door was kept locked.

One day I passed JC’s open door on the way to the shower and saw what looked like one of my house plants in his room. Cheeky bastard, I thought, I’ll make sure I ask him for that back.

Then one day I met a young lady (who turned out to be the future Mrs Soapy Norris as it happened) and things rapidly escalated.

He shaved his head bald. Just like mine. Grew a goatee. Just like mine. Dropped his midlands accent and adopted a West London accent. Just like mine.

If I arranged to go out with this girl, or any of my friends without him, he would throw a tantrum like a four year old, saying I wasn’t paying him any attention. I was best man at my mate’s wedding and had to meet up to discuss details – JC went mad and demanded to know why I couldn’t do this by videoconferencing.

It was at that point that things clicked into place and I realised how blind I’d been. Oh dear, I thought.

So I confronted JC at the next opportunity and said what the hell is all this about? He said well, a psychologist would probably say that since I split up with my fiancée I’ve started fixating on somebody else, and that person is you…. Oh dear oh dear, I thought.

I moved out very shortly thereafter. Before I went I made sure JC wasn’t in then entered his room to get my plant back.

Let’s just say I wish I hadn’t.
(, Mon 31 Jul 2006, 16:56, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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