Never met 'em, but shared their germs...
My supervisor has small children. Or a small child (I've never actually asked. At any rate there is at least one small child...)

This, of course, means that every Tuesday morning, I have a meeting with her and get a dose of the latest strain of common cold or influenza that is doing the rounds of the primary schools. My supervisor seems to be under the weather every other week; fortunately I've only succumbed to one of them so far. I swear by the time I finish I'm going to have an amazing immune system...

I was also reliably informed that said supervisor gave birth under hypnosis. (Presumably just the birthing stage and none of the processes that led up to that...*) As a result, she has apparently learnt how to hypnotise people. I don't know whether I should be worried or not...

EDIT: She's been away for the last couple of weeks. At our last meeting I was told "I'm going to an EGU conference next week...oh, and the week after that I'm in Disneyland."

Interesting contrast. If you need me, I'll be in that other great academic environment known as "the pub."

*_{Oh dear. That's not an image I wanted...}
(LongJohnBaldry, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 13:56, 5 replies)

You can fool some of the kids all of the time - -
Master Nearly Four and Miss Five were entertaining me in the back garden of my parent's home in Brisbane as their mother chatted about plants and gardens to my parents.

"What's that down there?" asked Master Nearly Four, pointing to the long building down the hill.

"That's a block of flats." I said. "They are like little houses built together and people live in them."

"Daddy has gone away and is living with a lady in a flat." said Miss Five.

"Don't tell anyone we told you," said Master Nearly Four. "We're not supposed to know."
(Redemption blamed it on the Bossa Nova since, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 13:11, Reply)

I have little day to day contact with children
but one instance that does stick in the mind happened a few months ago.

I was at my desk wading through technical inquiries when my desk phone rang. I picked it up and answered it. I was greeted with a small querulous voice of a boy or about 11 or 12 years of age.

BOY "Err, my father owns a pair of your *********** loudspeakers (name removed to protect my anonymity) (£3500) and the tweeter has been dinged, is a replacement available and how much is it?

ME "Could you define *dinged*?"

BOY "Well it had a football hit it and crumple the front quite badly."

ME (imagining the limb numbing panic that is likely coursing through his veins) "I see. Looking at the parts list here, I have them in stock- its £260 plus shipping. The chances are that the dealer will need to fit it however."

BOY- in tiny voice. "Oh."

And with that he starts to cry.

ME- "Am I to assume that your father isn't aware of the damage and probably had some strong views about footballs in the vicinity of his hifi?"

BOY- "He's back tomorrow- oh God he's going to kill me."

ME- "Generally parents don't kill their offspring."

BOY- "You don't understand, he loves those speakers. There must be something you can do."

ME- "Do you have any money at all?"

BOY- "I have £40 as an allowance for the holidays."

ME "And where are you?"

BOY "I'm in *****" (As it turned out, not a million miles from a dealer friend of mine).

Pause

ME "OK- This is what I am going to do as I have been in this position myself. I am going to ship the part free. I am going to contact a friend of mine where I suspect the speakers came from and he will come and fit the part. You are going to have to give him the £40. This will mean it is a very expensive game of football but you may escape with your life. There is one other thing you will have to do though."

BOY- *sniffs* What is it?

ME- "You're going to have to tell your Dad what happened."

BOY- "But, but he doesn't have to find out."

ME- "But then however there would be no repercussions and no lesson learned. In telling him, you can show that through creative thinking- and crying, you got the problem sorted at your expense."

BOY- "How would you know if I don't?"

ME- "I have your name and house address. I can check. Besides your Dad will ask where the £40 went."

BOY- "Oh."

Details were confirmed and my friend went and fitted the tweeter the following morning. Some days later a package with letter arrived from the boy's father.

Dear Mr Hatred,
Just a quick note to say I received ****'s blubbing confession as per your instructions on my return. I was sufficiently impressed at his ingenuity to spare his life although he is unlikely to see daylight again in 2008.

Enclosed is further proof of a satisfactory resolution to this unfortunate event.

Regards
X

It was a popped football.
(Leonard Hatred briefly did some work on, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 13:11, 14 replies)

Xmas 1984...
...was the happiest day of my young life up to that point.
Had gone to bed around 8pm. When my mum and dad were sure we were asleep, they crept in and took us out to the spare bedroom. They then decorated our bedroom in Fraggle Rock wallpaper and put us back in the room.
we were so excited when we woke up. My little brother got so pleased he was sick in his cornflakes.

Happy days.

Very random tale but I just though I'd share it.
( Boss Keloid Got your mother's maiden name tattooed on my arm, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 13:05, 8 replies)

Old beyond his years
When my son was about six, we were going on holiday, and playing motorway games in the car keeping the children amused.
Looking at car number plates and the three letters in them, then trying to think of words with those letters in. Dad spots a car with VGN in the plate. Cue silence for a few seconds, then my son blurts out "VIRGIN ". looks of horror by myself across at the ex Mrs love Custard. "Whats a virgin ?" I ask my son.
Quick as a flash, he replies, A type of coke! Five minutes of hysterical laughter from me and mrs love custard !
(Betty Boothroyd's Love custard Tourettes at the KOB, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 13:02, Reply)

Hmm
When I was about 10, and my brother about 7, we were at a friend-of-the-parents house, and they had a daughter, who was about 13 or 14.
She managed to con us into believing she had a SNES in her garage, so she took us out there... let us in... then tried to shut the door and lock us in. Out of terror we managed to force the door open before she could lock it, but at the time I was sure she intended to murder us. I never liked the girl again after that.

...

Another time, me and my bro were hanging around the videogames at some home store in Leicester, whilst the 'rents were shopping for carpets or something. Sonic 2 was in the machine, so we popped the SuperSonic code in and messed around a bit. The kid who was watching us play jumped back in terror, mouth agape, and screamed "SONIC TURRNNEED GOOLLLDDD!!!". Well, we thought it was funny.

...

Also, everything scientists tell us is a lie. What kids are to us, we are to them. They tell us stuff like "You evolved from fish" and "Global warming will kill us all", but it's all a con really. They're laughing at us, just as we laugh at kids who believe that there's a Goldfish Heaven.
(MrBeansHoliday, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 12:50, Reply)

Daleks!
Even though I posted somewhere earlier in this QOTW about the joys of being a parent I have to say its not all great, especially the first few months.....

During my second kiddies first few weeks out of the womb the household was woken by the same annoying screech from my daughter every few hours during the night. I had the stupid thought that this kid was going to be a doddle as we had already brought up one and should be used to the lack of sleep.

Wrong.

My second seemed to know how many times the first kid (my son) had got me and my wife up and decided to break the record he set. She was up so often that I was running purely on caffeine and e numbers from various kids sweets after a few days.

One night during my turn of nightime feeding duties my wife awoke to see me sat at the foot of the bed with the screaming daughter in one hand and an ice cold bottle of baby milk in the other. After watching me stare at the bottle for a few seconds the missus asked me what the hell I was up to and why the bottle was cold as my daughter drank warm bottles and she needed it pretty sharpish as her bawling was waking the whole street up.

My reply was that I couldn't make the microwave work because the Daleks had stolen the fuse for it. Yup I was starting to hallucinate due to lack of sleep and believed (in my semi awake state) that this had happened. How the Daleks intended on taking over the world by stealing fuses never really seems odd when you're half asleep. After a brief argument about the stupidity of the situation the wife offered to feed the baby while I went back to bed.

On another note I also forgot that I was wearing my sons Ben 10 light and sound toy on my wrist the other day when I popped out to the corner shop. Walking round the shop the watch decided to power down and let everyone stood in the same aisle as me know with a loud sound affect. One of the long term shop monkeys that knows me as a regular saw the look of dawning comprehension on my face and asked me what was wrong. My reply of " Nothing I'm just turning back into a human" amused her anyway.
(mon bison powered by magnets, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 12:37, 2 replies)

Bit of an odd one... can't remember the names either...
Well, I tend to use the computer at home a bit, and every now and then people add me to their list at random.

This person wasn't an exception. I ignored the "Hi M8" things and the "ASL?" requests, but no matter what, this annoyance kept on coming back. Sometimes it'd be abusive, sometimes just annoying, but oneday I was bored though, and I decided to accept the challenge of a conversation.

The grammar was non-existent, the spelling was horrific, and the phraseology was right out of Charver 101. I usually Like talking to random lasses, but this one was unreal. Stupid and mind-numbingly immature. I fired off the usual 'off the shelf' insults "work at McD's?" etc... and got a reply that I didn't expect.

"Not old enough to have a job"

oh... alright.. how old was this person? I'd assumed they were about 19...

"Fuck off.. why whould I tell you"
Because I've just been slamming the hell out of you because of your childishness, but maybe you ARE a child and I should be cutting you some slack!!
"Oh... well, I'm 11"
Riiiight. In which case I'm sorry for being mean. I had no idea you where that young

Needless to say I can't remember everything that happened or how it was said... but I'll do my best.

The conversation continued, and we spoke on and off for a few days. I had been wrong. It wasn't a girl either. It was a little lad. He told me he was in the 'web to find some friends or at least someone to talk to, and he asked where I lived. I sent a couple of google links to Swedish picture searches, and he seemed to love the idea of other countries etc. He then said that he wished he could live in another land, but he had to move to London with his mum.

"Really? Why are you moving there?"
My mum says I have to, or she'll chuck me out on the street
"Woah... that's a bit mean. She's probably joking..."
No she's not. She hits me, it really hurts.

*Humpty stops and takes stock*: An 11 yearold Manchestor kid has confided in me... he's unhappy, in need of mates and claims that his mum is violent towards him. 2 options... he's taking me for a ride... (look out for requests for financial support) or he's serious. No harm in talking to the lad... What could possibly go wrong?

"She hits you?"
That's not good, why does she do that?
I don't know. She said she wishes I was dead, and that I'm ruining her life.
Have you told anyone?
No, I don't want to. My sister and my mum like each other.
Right. Let's get this straight. Your mum hits you, and it makes you unhappy.. and you haven't told anyone?
Yeah...
Well that's wrong. Your mum is supposed to help you as you grow up, not hit you. You *really* need to tell someone and talk to them about it.
Yeah, but who?
Teachers. You could try telling them?
I'm not good at school, the teachers don't like me
That doesn't matter. This is FAR more important than school, and they will know that. They'll help. It doesn't even have to be one of your teachers. Pick someone you like, or one of your friend's teachers and ask if you can talk to them... Tell them everything that you've told me.
Are you sure that'll be ok?
Yes. Absolutely. That's what teachers are for. Teaching is only a bit of their job, looking after pupils is what it's ALL about.
Ok.
and I'll be here as usual... ok?
yup.

******************************

I heard nothing for a couple of days... then a girl named Haley added me to her list.

She started out with "You don't know me but you know my brother."
*Oh shit... here we go: Kiddy-fiddling accusations..*
"I just wanted to say thankyou. I think you may have saved his life...."

It turned out that the day after I took the time to speak with him properly, he'd walked into school, and with a thumping heart, had walked up to his maths teacher - for whom he had some respect - and told him exactly what he'd told me.

According to his sister who'd been at home that day, police turned up at her mum's doorstep at midday and took her away. Both she and her brother were now living with their biological dad, and they were both really enjoying it.

The night that all this had happened and after social services had spoken to them both, Her little brother then went and sat on her bed and pulled his shirt up - for the first time ever his sister found out that her mum had been beating him. He was covered in bruises - all over his body. He told her about talking t me, and he told her that he's been thinking of killing himself: his classmates had surmised that this was probably his only option anyway.

So... she thanked me for being there when he needed someone, and giving good advice in a way that he could identify with it. It was a pretty cool feeling.

**************************

Kids might type like shit...
They may not embrace correct grammar..
They may really piss you off...
They might swear and spit...

...but underneath, some of them are just lost little kids.

Don't write them all off.. not yet.
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Mon 21 Apr 2008, 12:28, 27 replies)

#7 Beware of them going quiet.
About nine years ago when my twins were toddlers I bought a lovely new rug for their bedroom.

I had laid it all myself and imagined years or even months of joyous playtimes on the lovely new rug - I had visions of Bob the Builder playing with Dizzy the cement mixer on the rug while Spud frolicked nearby with the JCB digger thing whose name I've forgotten. But it was not to be….

I'd put the dastardly duo to bed - nice warm bath, milk, story and into their cots next to the lovely new rug. Then it was downstairs to hit the wine bottle and read a book in peace (this was BB - before B3ta).

Sometime later the ex-MrChickenlady returned from the local pub and we went to bed after checking on the babies - they were still in their angelic milk-fuelled fug.


And soon a gentle peace settled on the tiny Chicken household, a peace which was sadly short-lived.



I woke rather later than the normal 6 am when I would usually be brought to consciousness by the dulcet tones of stereo babies crying as they were both hungry and their backsides were smeared in the devil's dollops.

But not today.

Today I woke of my own accord at around 7.00am and all I could hear was giggling. Oh joy! I think, they've at last discovered how to keep themselves entertained! Hooray! I could see the vistas of normal adult life beginning to open up again in front of me…I too would be able to have a lie in!

So I turned over and got back to thinking about kittens.

Then about half an hour later I came to again…still only giggling and murmuring could be heard from their lair.

Hmm….suspicion kicks in….

What is it that they're doing that's keeping them occupied despite the cacky pants and hunger?

My curiosity overcomes my desire for sleep and I venture out of bed. Slowly I open their bedroom door….

Oh dear God.

They have climbed out of their cots - the first time they've achieved this.



They have climbed onto the changing table (okay, so it was a chest of drawers with a changing mat on top) - this is about three feet tall and I can see no visible means of scaling it unless they opened some of the drawers or climbed on each other.

On a shelf above the table stood a newly opened jar of Zinc and Caster Oil cream (for nappy rash) and a newly opened packet of baby wipes - Johnson's I seem to remember.

Now both boys are sitting on the lovely new rug…but the rug is no longer lovely.

Neither are the walls.

Or the boys.

The room is an explosion of wipes and cream. The cream has been rubbed in…..into the walls, into the rug, into their hair.



I believe this was just before they attempted to set fire to the house.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 12:18, 10 replies)

I used to think they were all evil...
Up until this morning when my boss called to say the fruit of his loins was suffering from 'rubber breakfast' syndrome and puking everywhere.

So Boss isn't coming in to work until this afternoon, so I can surf b3ta guilt free without the need for ALT+TAB fever...
(Dionysian Aut viam inveniam aut faciam, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 11:46, 1 reply)

Words mix up.
A cousin of mine who is like 10 had obviously been watching lots of movies, and was running around outside playing and putting on an american accent as they do when they're playing action man or whatever. When suddenly a huge explosion was about to go off and he started running away with his mates shouting EJACULATE! EJACULATE!! EJACULATE!!! I think he meant evacuate.. It was rather amusing :)
(Miggyman, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 11:46, 2 replies)

Mrs Mikkyo's younger siblings are a good decade and a bit younger than her
so when I was first introduced to them at a BBQ after we had been seeing each other for a short amount of time, I wasn't sure what to expect. Within 10 minutes or so her little cutie pie of a sister who we shall cal Becca for that is her name asks me "When are you going to get Mrs Mikkyo Pregnant? I'd quite like a nephew please".

Keeping in mind we had been seeing each other for maybe a month or two, her mother buts in laughing in that 'oh kids eh?' kind of way. But instead of sending little Becca on her way she asks me "Have you two thought about having kids yet?".

Que Nervous laughing and my Mrs appologising for her family for the next month.
( Laird Dave Draws Now charges to take off his clothes., Mon 21 Apr 2008, 11:41, Reply)

Fun at the farm
When my sister was at the age to take that big step from primary school to secondary school, she pestered my parents into letting her have a party for all her and her school leaving chums. To be fair though we did live on a farm, so it was usually a good place to have a party.

So the party’s in full swing and kids seem to be having fun, some are playing with the horses, some are on the bouncy castle and some are playing party games (the usual…. Hide and seek, football, hide the sausage…. They were from Chessington!), and it was up to me, my older brother and my mum to look after the future drug addicts and teenage mothers.

Later in the day we noticed that one of the little shites had wondered off. He was the quiet one of the group, he didn’t really seem part of the group and we were worried that he had gone alone in the woods (a horrible place that I have a few more stories about). So we decided that my older brother would look in the woods, I would walk down the main road outside the farm, and my mum would stay with the mini-asbos.

Luckily as we were about to start the search we noticed the kid at the bottom of one of the fields, just standing there and staring into the distance. We all walked down to him to check that he was ok.

‘Are you alright mate, what you doing down here on your own?? Are you getting bullied by someone?’ My brother asks him

‘No I’m not getting bullied, I just came down here to watch the sunset’ the kid replies.

‘Oh that’s ok then, was it a nice sunset?’

‘I dunno’ the kid says disappointed







‘The sun was in my eyes’.


As I said, they were from Chessington.

Generic length joke number 10986
(mustbeaaronbear more pooh then grizzly, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 11:06, 7 replies)

A friends story
Of a story she gets told about her and her sister when they were young.

1 fine morning 2 little ,innocent looking 8 year old children knock on their neighbours door,
"Can we have some brandy plse? Run or whiskey would do."
"Why?" asks the neighbour.
"We're baking a cake"
neighbour (a bit foolsihly) lets them have the brandy.

1/2 hour later there comes another knock on the door. It;s the 2 kids again.
"Can we borrow a scrubbing brush please?
"Why?" asks the neighbour for the 2nd time.
"Mum says we have to clean it off the walls."
( Crap Little Monkey Deathstar, so good they built it twice, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 10:37, Reply)

Some people should never be left alone with children
This last weekend I spent an entertaining Saturday with Chickenlady and her two boisterous but charming boys exploring the caves at Dover Castle.

All was going well until Chickenlady went back to the car to put two newly acquired Airfix Spitfires (for the boys, although I daresay I will be involved in the construction process at some point) in the boot of the car.

We decided it was time to head to the Gentleman's rest room after a can of coke each. Anyway, all is going reasonably well as the three of us are lined up at the urinals staring at the ceiling when it all begins to go pears.

One of the headstrong twosome wanders off to a cubicle, takes a wad of toilet tissue and runs it under the tap before lobbing it at the ceiling.

"Hehehehehehe" trilled twin no 1 as the wad of paper landed on the floor with a wet "splat".

Naturally twin 2 joins in and at this point I decide to interject.

"Boys, don't do that. Someone's got to clear it all up... By the way you're doing it all wrong. The paper definitely needs to be wetter".

Seconds later, there's a barrage of wet bog roll thudding into windows and ceilings.

Sensing impending disaster, I decided to corral the boys back outside "All right, enough is enough. Back to the car to meet mummy now I think".

As we exited the loo I added

"And what happened here goes no further boys, if you tell mummy she'll go absolutely ape".

All went well for the remainder of the day. Right up until we were sat at the mealtable having dinner.

Twin number one pipes up with "PJM, what about that secret that happened in the toilet earlier that we mustn't to tell mummy about?"

Swines.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Mon 21 Apr 2008, 10:32, 4 replies)

You don't know what its like!
I consider myself a kid being still within kid age (15). Unfortunately I'm not one that has some interesting story about being a kid or involving kids that would be funny in fact I'm quite quiet and generally don't like to make any type of a scene that would draw attention to myself. You don't know this but they're are many of our type out there lurking behind their parent's back and staring at you.

Click 'I like this' and I will tell you where the rest are and if you are in danger of being watched...

Actually who am I kidding I don't have any friends to tell you of so I wouldn't know where any of them would be so scratch that altogether...Ooh a razor blade!
(RDFCRob Please God let Obama win!, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 10:28, 4 replies)

my little cousin was in an accident.
He was physically and mentally ska-d. So much so that he has to go to Specials school.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 10:19, 9 replies)

Swings and things (and injuries)
One of WeeWitch's stories earlier on reminded me of one (of my many) childhood injuries.

I used to live in Scotland, and we'd frequently go to Linlithgow to take the dog for a walk round the lake. Happily, there were a few playparks on the way, so we'd normally stop off for a shot on the swings and so on. And so, this one time, I was running up to jump on t...

### THWAK ###

...a swing (with occupant) in full flow caught me full on the chin, lifted me up bodily and chucked me against the wall a few feet away.

Amazingly, I wasn't injured at all. I think as a child, I had a tendancy to bounce or bend. Notable other attempts to kill or maim myself included:

- Jumping off an 8 foot wall and landing on the side of my foot (think I managed to stretch every tendon and ligament in my ankle over time, but never actually broke one)

- Rotating one of my feet by 180 degrees (while doing a conga in the local park - don't ask).

- Falling off the local SERIOUS rope swing (30 foot rope, with another 15 feet underneath, at the top of a 45 degree bank). That time I did nearly die, as if I'd landed 2 feet further over, I'd have had a 3 inch nail through my back. Makes me shiver to think about it.

- Numerous other face plants and concusions.

Ahh - good times. I don't bend quite so easily now...
( Fireflier La la la la, not listening on, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 10:16, Reply)

my girlfriend had an abortion.
She didn't tell me, but I could tell because her undies had kidmarks.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 10:16, 2 replies)

Is it wrong that I find this funny?
Possibly the funniest thing I ever heard about a kid comes from a colleague of mine.

Imagine the scene: breakfast, about 7am, mother and two-year-old son munching on their toast. All is quiet... no sound save the ticking of the clock. And then, apropos of absolutely nothing, junior speaks.

"Mummy?"
"Yes, darling?"
"CUNT."

Class. :)
(Orin delurked to post this gibberish on, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 9:52, 6 replies)

My Theory
Now, a lot of people will bitch and moan about this. That's fine, we're all allowed opinions, and this is mine.

I think there are too many people, and as they say, ignorance breeds ignorance, literally, I'm afraid.

At birth:
All children should be implanted with a contraceptive "chip", and scheduled for it to be replaced regularly, when it runs out.

Anyone who wishes to have children:
Should take a test and some classes in basic childcare, to prove that they're capable of it, and have actually thought about it.
Successful completion of this will result in removal of the contraceptive implant from both parties.
I'm not saying that "stupid people can't have children", more that it should be a conscious decision to opt in.

Anyone found to have to have tampered with their implant:
Will have it re-fitted. Three strikes and you're out though; forcible sterilization for repeat offenders.
( Cawl, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 9:52, 40 replies)

My GF's daugther
When she was 7 (so last summer) has decided that if she doesn't know what a word means then it must be a bad word. Case in point:

I stuck my finger out to her's (ET style) and did the voice. She didn't get it, so I inform her its from a movie called ET, and her mam explains that it's iconic. Little 7 year old doesn't know what this means, cue "DON'T SAY THAT! ITS A BAD WORD!"

"What is?" says I, "Iconic?"
"DON'T SAY THAT!"
"Iconic iconic iconic iconic iconic iconic iconic iconic."
She runs over, grabs both my hands, tries to climb onto my lap, looks me right in the eye and through clenched teeth says "If you don't stop saying bad words I'm telling granma!"

All the while my GF is having a fit of the giggles and that pronouncement of granma induced doom set me off too, I even fell off the arm of the couch.
(Teran Thinks Pogonophobia is funny, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 9:39, 1 reply)

Short but not so sweet
I'm going t keep this short.



Kids: They should be bred on farms.
(advokilt, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 9:31, 4 replies)

A mate and I
were looking after this little kid for a friend of ours. The trouble was, she was beautiful, she had lovely, golden hair, deep brown eyes, cute little legs and a smell that would invoke a perfectly natural reaction in any man.
Both my friend and I, being that way inclined, decided to take advantage of the situation. I grabbed her by the head and forced my throbbing member deep inside her gorgeous little mouth, while my partner in crime took her forcibly from behind.
Without doubt, it was some of the best sex either of us had ever had.

So, chickenlady, thanks for lending al and I your goat.

:D
( Bert Monkeysex is waiting for the mods to delete him, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 9:14, 18 replies)

have you slapped that child?
Why not?

When I do my weekly bigshop, it's normally in one of two tescos. One is in Handforth Dean, the other in Wythenshawe. For those of you unfamiliar with the geography and shop locations of South Manchester, Handforth Dean Tesco is the closest supermarket to some very, very rich areas, like Alderly Edge. In fact, first time I went in there, some years ago, I walked past Posh and Becks on my way in. No really. Whereas Wythenshawe is a shithole. No really.

Something I have observed on my way around these two stores is the difference in behaviour between the kids of utter chavs and those of the upper middle classes.

The big difference being: the upper middle classes have no control over their kids whatsoever.

As I walk around Handforth Dean, I will hear the familiar refrain of "Appleblossom, stop that. Stop that. please stop that, Appleblossom" as the cute little shit continues destroying whatever display has caught their eye, shortly followed by "Mummy I want ... I want ... I want ..." "No dear, you can't have that" "MUMMY I WANT ... I WANT ..." "okay dear, you can have it".

However, in Wythenshawe, the two situations go "Jamie! Fucking stop that or I'll twat you" Jamie stops that; then "Mummy I want ..." "tough shit, you can't have it" end of.

If I have kids, they're getting dressed in trackies and Elizabeth Duke.
(ScousersPet, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 9:09, 2 replies)

Might as well shame myself (and my cousins)
So yeah when I was but a young'un myself and my cousins thought of a brilliant idea of making cement (for reasons i do not know). We had the sand but no cement powder stuff (!) water or a cement mixer. Not a problem, we have the genious idea of dropping trousers and peeing directly into the sand and mixing it with opur hands. We just couldn't get the same colour as wet cement we had seen so kept mixing and peeing.

Then my Ma seen us.

Cue screaming, shouting, crying and cursing (3 outta 4 were me) before me and my 2 cousins were thrown into a bath together and washed and scrubbed like never before.

There is even a photo at home (where it is staying) and you can see a big greyish mark on my head where the pee covered sand had been.

/shudder

insert length joke here
(Samantha Bricks Better half done a poo on, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 8:57, Reply)

Cute Quote...
My daughter was 4 or 5 one Christmas and the family was sat around the TV watching the news. The leading story was a boxer who had been badly injured during a fight (can't remember who) - but who was in a 'stable condition' according to the newsreader.

At that point my daughter pipes up "that's just like Baby Jesus - he's in a stable condition too!"
( HSDriver was probably still at work on, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 8:42, Reply)