LETTER TO MY YOUNGER SELF
Right, you snot nosed little shit – turn off that bloody Cure record, turn your brain on for two minutes and read this.

For starters: YOU ARE NOT VANILLA ICE !!! You’ll go through a teenage phase of wearing baseball caps backwards, walking round with your arse half hanging out and saying shit like: “Wussup, bee-aaa-tttcchh???” This makes you look like an utter, colossal, monumental wanker. You are not a Beastie Boy. You are not the next big thing in rap music. You are a simpleton. Just don’t do it.

The first time a girl lets you go down on her don’t clamp your lips round her piss n sweat flavoured weeping black hole and blow with all your might as if you’re playing the fucking tuba. This will end in tears; your tears after she involuntarily clamps her legs together and crushes your skull between her thunder thighs while simultaneously clawing at the top of your head with her adamantine claw strength glued on false nails.

Don’t ever grow your hair long. If you do this you’ll bear a remarkable resemblance to Ralph out of The Muppets. And let’s face it no one in their right mind is going to shag a bloke who looks like a talking dog who plays piano who constantly gets upstaged by a talking frog with rickets.

If you ever end up in a club in Manchester and start chatting with a girl named Susan, don’t take her home and fuck her. Might make you feel like Billy Big Bollocks at the time, but waking up at three-thirty in the morning several days later with hot sweats and an urgent desire to piss is definitely not fun. Staggering to the toilet, getting your cock out and standing there for several minutes without any satisfying yellow hose effect is also definitely not fun. And realising when you sleepily look down at your piece there’s some weird funky grey blamanche stuff that stinks like gorgonzola gurgling out your japs eye, smearing over your hairy balls and dripping like candle wax onto the toilet rim is fucking terrifying. And let’s not even go into the who ‘visiting the clinic’ thing. Let’s just say having some burly male nurse ram something not too dissimilar to a cocktail stick down your cock and wiggle it around a bit while asking casually which football team you support is absolutely fucking horrific. So, if you bump into Susan, just walk away and have a wank instead.

Which leads me onto the carrot incident. When you’re fifteen and your parents and sister are out at the supermarket don’t, I repeat DON’T take a carrot out of the salad crisper and stick it up your arse. It will break off and you’ll spend the rest of your Saturday shitting blood trying to get the fucker back out again.

In the week when Kurt Kobain dies don’t – when Sarah Hughes starts suggestively rubbing your nutsack through your Levis in the Student Union, DON’T say: “Sorry, Sarah – I’m just feeling too sad at the moment...” You’ll regret never having a crack at that fantastic posterior for the rest of your life*.

Oh, and when you’re in your final year at Uni you and your group of inebriated halfwit mates will actually win the big pub quiz for the first and last time ever. They’ll be a tie-breaker question where you could win a rollover jackpot that no fuckers won for the whole year. We’re talking SERIOUS MONEY!!! For some unknown reason your mates will nominate you to go up in front of several hundred people to answer this tiebreaker. Now, you’ll be drunk. Very drunk. But that’s no excuse. None at all. When the fella running the quiz asks you: “Who wrote Paradise Lost?” Do not, PLEASE CHRIST-ON-A-BIKE DO NOT drunkenly slur: “Errr.... ummm.... I KNOW THIS !!! DOMESTOS !!! DOMESTOS !!!” The answer is not Domestos, you tit – MILTON !!! MILTON WROTE PARADISE FUCKING LOST, YOU THICK FUCKING CUNTY-BOLLOCK-BRAINED-MOLLOSK!!! You lost out on two grand because you got your cleaning fluid brands mixed up... two... fucking... grand...

God, I’m angry now. Gotta calm down. Let’s just leave you with this advice – if you think it’s a good idea, don’t do it. If you think it’s a bad idea, probably best to leave it alone. If you’re undecided, I dunno, toss a fucking coin - what the fuck am I - your fairy fucking godmother ???

Cheers

Your Older Self

PS – When you’re eighteen don’t get that tattoo of that snake coiled round two silver dollars on your arm. The first time you show it to someone they’ll ask: “Why have you got a green cock tattooed on your arm with bright yellow balls?” And you’ll hear this at least another couple of hundred times before you actually save up enough money to get it covered up with something decent.

PPS – If there was some way I could write down the winning lottery ticket numbers for last week and give them to you I would. I fancy a nice life living in Monaco with a couple of supermodel girlfriends, a Ferrari, a helicopter and free access more drugs than you find in your average A & E department.

PPPS – The Cure are shit. Their lead singer sounds like he’s got his testicles stuck in a mincer and he looks like a very bad transvestite on . But don’t worry – you’ll grow out of it.


*Sarah Hughes, if you happen to be a B3tan please gaz me. No strings, I just want a quick jump or at least the chance to crank one off over your voluptuous heaving bottom.
( SpankyHanky, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 13:45, 14 replies)

That was fucking hilarious.
Nice one.


But lay off Robert Smith for fuck's sake.
( 100% Cock Raw like carrots., Fri 5 Mar 2010, 13:51, closed)

Fair plays
Used to love The Cure. Listened to them recently and thought: "Hmm, 's okay I suppose..." Then again the last gig I went to was Lamb of God down at Brixton, so I suppose your music tastes just evolve over time. Fuck knows, mate. Fuck knows...
( SpankyHanky, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 13:53, closed)

Hahaha
A good retro/introspective post from you. Nice!
( Blind Meach Cautiously optimistic, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 13:51, closed)

It made me angry!!!
I'VE JUST GOT ANGRY HAVING A GO AT MYSELF!!! FFS!!!
( SpankyHanky, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 13:52, closed)

Well,
at least you could argue it was justified?
( Blind Meach Cautiously optimistic, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 13:57, closed)

The Cure aren't shit

( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 13:54, closed)

Got a bit caught up in the moment on this post
Grew up listening to The Cure, saw them a fair few times. Had the posters up on the walls, the works. They're more like a comfy pair of old slippers to me now and I prefer listening to other things.

It's a free world - people can listen to and like what they want, I'd say.
( SpankyHanky, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 13:59, closed)

No!
they cannot listen to U2!

no should!
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 14:16, closed)

They were
when they played the O2 last year, I assure you.

Although that's probably the shitty venue's fault.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 14:14, closed)

I agree

( DumbMonkey The penis mightier than the sword, Wed 10 Mar 2010, 10:34, closed)

The Cure are shit
sorry
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 14:56, closed)

It's Friday.
You should be in love with The Cure.
( JeffTheDogFucker Can you dig it?, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 13:58, closed)

LEAVE ROBERT SMITH ALONE!
*cries*
( Peej, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 14:15, closed)

Excellent read
Luckily my boss was telling jokes whilst I read this, so my laughter was inconspicuous
( SigmaX0 Dear Die Hard. You rock!, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 14:16, closed)

Cheers
mate.
( SpankyHanky, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 14:38, closed)

!
I enjoyed that.
(Sir Clitherington Smythe offers him yourself., Fri 5 Mar 2010, 14:45, closed)

You're too young to be so wise

( Larry Vest One day at a time, sweet Jesus, FFS., Fri 5 Mar 2010, 14:54, closed)

Excellent
That made me giggle
(insomniac-surfer oh go on then, just this once, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 15:06, closed)

Spanky....
I have to say it, I want to be you when I grow up!
(Obi wanker nobi Its not a bug, its an unexpected feature, Fri 5 Mar 2010, 16:28, closed)

from a sycophant
I bet you think this click is about you.
(justin(e), Sat 6 Mar 2010, 13:48, closed)