Kids
Either you love 'em or you hate 'em. Or in the case of Fred West - both. Tell us your ankle-biter stories.
( , Thu 17 Apr 2008, 15:10)
Either you love 'em or you hate 'em. Or in the case of Fred West - both. Tell us your ankle-biter stories.
( , Thu 17 Apr 2008, 15:10)
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Chicken Plops
When I was a kid, as most kids do, I contracted the affliction known to the lower classes as chicken pox. In an amusing case of juvenile mispronunciation I called it "chicken plops".
One day, whilst perusing that emporium of delight known at the time as "Woolco", now Woolworths, I hapened to see a teenage punk. This was around 1982, I was 6.
The acne of the aforementioned punk was delightful to my infant eye. I was no longer alone. "Look, Mum," I cried "He's got chicken plops too!"
And as the adolescent punk tried to scurry away hoping the earth would swallow him up, my cries of "Are your chicken plops itchy?" no doubt rang in his ears.
( , Thu 17 Apr 2008, 15:27, Reply)
When I was a kid, as most kids do, I contracted the affliction known to the lower classes as chicken pox. In an amusing case of juvenile mispronunciation I called it "chicken plops".
One day, whilst perusing that emporium of delight known at the time as "Woolco", now Woolworths, I hapened to see a teenage punk. This was around 1982, I was 6.
The acne of the aforementioned punk was delightful to my infant eye. I was no longer alone. "Look, Mum," I cried "He's got chicken plops too!"
And as the adolescent punk tried to scurry away hoping the earth would swallow him up, my cries of "Are your chicken plops itchy?" no doubt rang in his ears.
( , Thu 17 Apr 2008, 15:27, Reply)
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