Morning After SouvenirsI once woke up in a tent after a particularly drunken holiday pub crawl, clutching a tap. There's a drowned, sunken village somewhere in Wales because of my act of petty theft, but I cannot remember. Tell us what - or who - you've brought back from nights out.
(Suggested by Bicycle Repairman)
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Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 26 Apr 2012, 13:44)
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Let it be…I’m really not sure about posting this, considering the amount of detail I am going to provide, even though it does not specifically involve me. Hey ho, let’s crack on…
The date was June 15th, 1968. I was not even an itch in my dad’s nads at the time, yet the present Mrs Pooflake’s Mum was flinging herself thighboot deep into the end of the swinging sixties. You’d be quite flabbergasted to understand that she was a Beatles fan, as I understand a few others shared her admiration of that particular beat combo around that time.
Motherflake-in-law (M.I.L) was busying herself dabbling into whatever young sorts did in the 60’s (If you’re young and unsure about what occured around that time, I believe there are some documentaries available), and was busy partaking in such radical experiences with a girl who was at that time her best friend.
She and her friend had something in common. Rebellion. M.I.L was brought up into a snobbish, almost puritan upbringing, and her friend was part of a very religious family. Sorry, did I say ‘religious’? What I meant to say was quite.fuckingly.bastardly.religious. In fact, her friend’s father was at that time the Verger of Coventry Cathedral. You get the idea.
The free-spirited, short-skirted, screaming at boys’ nature of these strong willed young ladies successfully managed to confuse and appall both sets of parents respectively to their wit’s end. I mean, these girls even occasionally wore leather jackets FFS! They should’ve been locked up.
Back to the date in question. It was a fine summer’s day, and Coventry was awash with the kind of activity that only occurs when people more important than the likes of us can be arsed to turn up…and this day was no different. Our unworthy, preposterous, shitheap of a city was going to be visited by none other than John Lennon (legend) and Yoko Ono (*facepalms*)
They were there on a mission…a mission of peace, togetherness and all that other bollocks they repeatedly bleated about. But how could they fully express their extreme dedication to plant-hugging, hippy crap? …They hadn’t yet conjured up the frankly fruitlooped idea of lounging about in a massive fartsack for yonks in some American hotel room yet, but they were determined on this day to make some meaningful stand.
So what did they do? Throw a sort of ‘Live aid’ event? Nah. A charity auction perhaps? I’m afraid not. What they did instead was plant a couple of fucking acorns that was in some way meant to symbolise love, harmony and no doubt better living accomodation for squirrels or something.
However, the location of this ridiculous publicity stunt happened to be at our very own Coventry Cathedral. So of course, having somebody ‘on the inside’ as it were, my M.I.L and her friend were allowed unprecedented access to these pointless proceedings. They were instantly the envy of their friends, and most of the teenage girls in the country, if not the world. In accordance to the importance of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, They thought they should prepare…
They decided to spend the day getting spacktardedly ratarsed on some home made cider they had blagged. This was the type that has bits of rat-hair and straw in it, and makes you go mental…then blind…then dead a bit.
Once suitably refreshed, they embarked on the Cathedral, snuck through the residential entrance, and barged the throngs of fans and media out of the way. “My Dad runs this gaff, he could have you killed!” My M.I.L’s friend spat at everybody who dared prevent them getting closer to their hero (and Yoko).
Eventually they made it to within a few yards of the couple. “WOOOO! John! Joooooooohhhhnn! I LOOOOOOVE YOU!!!!!!!” My M.I.L squawked, whilst making ‘kissy’ faces and attempting to thrust her hips provocatively at him. “Oi, YOKO! FUCK OFF!” her friend kindly bellowed whilst waving two fingers, just to add her particular ‘panache’ to the happy atmosphere.
They were largely ignored, and the ceremony merrily chuntered to it’s conclusion. Soon, it was time for everyone to piss off and leave the planted acorns under the bench where they had been stuck. The place cleared rapidly after the celebs had departed, and my MIL and her friend celebrated by starting to quaff the scotch from her mate’s dad’s liquor cabinet.
However, soon they were alone…properly alone, inside the grounds that had now long been been locked to the general public, and they thought to themselves ‘What shall we do now…?’
I’m sure you can guess what they did.
In a heartbeat, they staggered out wearily to the bench in the grounds where this statement of world love and understanding had been sited…They dropped to their knees, briefly looked at each other, then promptly dug the fucking acorns up that had been planted just a couple of hours before.
Sometime later, when there wasn’t so much as a twig sprouting from the ground, suspicions started to materialise that perhaps some peace-hating fucker had half-inched the acorns. Everyone felt a bit stupid. My M.I.L and her mate wisely remained tight lipped. The story here states: ‘Tourists dug up the acorns and Lennon had a row with the exhibition organizers over the moving of the bench that had been sitting above the acorn ground". My hairy arse was it 'Tourists'! My M.I.L kept hers for years before it finally got lost somewhere in the midst of time. Her friend, however, also kept hers (They were too pissed to remember who had John’s and who had Yoko’s btw) and she may still have it.
However, at this point the story gets quite surreal. Later on in life, my M.I.L. friend sorted herself out, got into religion and actually ended up spending some time as the Verger of the aforementioned Cathedral. Once, during an interview she was asked her opinion of the acorn theft. She replied: “I have no idea who did it, but it’s a tragic and senseless act” Pfft!
I used to think that my generation was the first to do naughty stuff. I obviously haven’t got a fucking clue.
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Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Thu 26 Apr 2012, 16:48,
11 replies)
*Clicks*I might as well pack up and go home...this has to win.
(, Thu 26 Apr 2012, 16:54, closed)
More than *click* worthy!!
(, Thu 26 Apr 2012, 16:56, closed)
FantasticAnother great FTW Pooflake memory...written better than tale you told in the pub!
(, Thu 26 Apr 2012, 21:43, closed)
Well that's bloody charming!...Next time I see you at the local boozage emporium I will ignore you completely and just pass you hand-written notes instead.
*flounces*
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Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Fri 27 Apr 2012, 11:21,
closed)
Clearly...Being a bellend is not only genetic but you appear to have caught it from someone you're not even blood-related to! I applaud the work of your MIL however, as planting acorns for peace is about as much use as shouting at a nuclear bomb*
*No fucking use at all**
**Like Yoko
(, Thu 26 Apr 2012, 22:46, closed)
Amazing!*clicks hard*
(, Fri 27 Apr 2012, 8:52, closed)
Undeniably excellent.Even though I kept reading the abbreviation M.I.L. as MILF.
(, Fri 27 Apr 2012, 14:14, closed)
Haha...If you only knew how Captain Placid* felt about my M.I.L...it would all make sense.
*He's a dirty, DIRTY old man.
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Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Fri 27 Apr 2012, 14:16,
closed)
A class aboveyou write good
(, Fri 27 Apr 2012, 15:48, closed)
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