A bum rap
The sun didn't often shine in Northern Ireland back in the 80s. I was 17 before I saw a patch of blue sky and the whole country came to a stop in 1986 to stare in awe at a big shiny light in the sky, which appeared one day and vanished the next. On the rare occasions when the place wasn't a dull, miserable hole, a surge of youthful vigour surged through my pipecleaner limbs and I'd scuttle about, looking like Timmy Mallett and feeling like Brian Jacks.

On my way to school there was an old, wrought iron fence which typically required me to drag open a rusted old gate to pass. But on one such sunny day, I was an unstoppable God and by Jove, I would vault this fence!

With barely a run up, I threw myself up, up into the sky. Daley Thomson had nothing on me. My power was unmatched! Until my heel caught the top of the damned thing, of course.

My forward momentum was stalled and I hung in the air like a mewling clothes horse before plummeting to the earth, screeching all the way down. Luckily the air was soon knocked out of me and my girlish trills were replaced by a faint gasping wheeze, which did restore a smidge of macho dignity. This dignity lasted as long as it took for me to realise that I could neither breathe nor move my arms to any great extent. These were both activities that I was greatly fond of.

It turns out, you see, that iron masons, when called on to do decorative work would often top a boring old fence with some tasteful spikes. The cunning artificer who'd built "my" fence had adorned it with an entertaining array of penile extrusions, several of which had pierced the back of my leather jacket, leaving me dangling like Cicero's scrotum.

It was obvious that I couldn't stay there all day. What if I were seen!? So I spent a few minutes wriggling and squirming in increasingly desperate attempts to get free. Finally, I was able to succumb to gravitu and I lay on the cool earth, bemoaning the loss of my lovely coat. After stumbling, humbled to school, the full gravity of the scenarion was made clear to me when my good friend Neil said "Ha ha ha, imagine if one of thsoe spikes had gone right up your arse!"

I was -this- close to being an involuntary gayer and / or bleeding to death from a shocking anal wound. (Is there any other kind?)

As it turns out, Neil spent a lot of time thinking about things going up bums, which explains why he didn't get off with Emma Jacobs and I did. So it all worked out well in the end.
(csdaveuk, Thu 15 May 2014, 15:14, 8 replies)

For a minute there I was confusing Daley Thompson with Tom Daley.

( Fork Has lost his bash virginity!, Thu 15 May 2014, 15:39, closed)

What were the skies like when you were young?

(The Incredible Sulk Finally remembered his password on, Thu 15 May 2014, 17:46, closed)

Grey?
Is it 'grey'? I think the right answer is 'grey'.
( Ghoti Fingers, Thu 15 May 2014, 20:03, closed)

What were the skies like when you were young?

(The Incredible Sulk Finally remembered his password on, Thu 15 May 2014, 22:24, closed)

We used to pray for grey
The skies were white. Like after a nuclear holocaust. Which would've explained all the mutants who lived round our way.
(csdaveuk, Fri 16 May 2014, 15:07, closed)

What were the skies like when you were young?

(The Incredible Sulk Finally remembered his password on, Mon 19 May 2014, 0:58, closed)

Emma Jacobs? Phwoar!

(Andrew Avetoom, Thu 15 May 2014, 17:48, closed)

click for "mewling clothes horse"

( rachelswipe with a fork, Thu 15 May 2014, 19:19, closed)