The nicest thing someone's ever done for me
In amongst all the tales of bitterness and poo, we occasionally get fluffy stories that bring a small tear to our internet-jaded eyes.
In celebration of this, what is the nicest thing someone's done for you? Whether you thoroughly deserved it or it came out of the blue, tell us of heartwarming, selfless acts by others.
Failing that, what nice things have you done for other people, whether they liked it or not?
( , Thu 2 Oct 2008, 16:14)
In amongst all the tales of bitterness and poo, we occasionally get fluffy stories that bring a small tear to our internet-jaded eyes.
In celebration of this, what is the nicest thing someone's done for you? Whether you thoroughly deserved it or it came out of the blue, tell us of heartwarming, selfless acts by others.
Failing that, what nice things have you done for other people, whether they liked it or not?
( , Thu 2 Oct 2008, 16:14)
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Covered in Newky Brown
Picture this: Millennium celebrations in Newcastle, my first night out in this country. I had spent the night snogging the faces off of footballers and drinking deadly quantities of champagne.
And then the vomiting began.
I initially blamed it on the champagne and footballer spores, but it carried on with ferocity. The last thing I remembered, I passed out on the streets of Newcastle, covered in sick. I have come to realise that unconscious vomit-stained ladies are par for course in Newcastle. I didn’t know anybody, I didn’t know the city, I didn’t have a phone, I was primed for rapin’.
And then I woke up in a hospital bed. Salmonella, they said. “But how did I get here?” “Somebody carried you in.”
Whoever you are, ta muchly. I wish you would have stuck around for me to thank you.*
*Although, to be fair, I had also shit myself. I wouldn’t have stuck around if I were that person.
( , Fri 3 Oct 2008, 10:54, 3 replies)
Picture this: Millennium celebrations in Newcastle, my first night out in this country. I had spent the night snogging the faces off of footballers and drinking deadly quantities of champagne.
And then the vomiting began.
I initially blamed it on the champagne and footballer spores, but it carried on with ferocity. The last thing I remembered, I passed out on the streets of Newcastle, covered in sick. I have come to realise that unconscious vomit-stained ladies are par for course in Newcastle. I didn’t know anybody, I didn’t know the city, I didn’t have a phone, I was primed for rapin’.
And then I woke up in a hospital bed. Salmonella, they said. “But how did I get here?” “Somebody carried you in.”
Whoever you are, ta muchly. I wish you would have stuck around for me to thank you.*
*Although, to be fair, I had also shit myself. I wouldn’t have stuck around if I were that person.
( , Fri 3 Oct 2008, 10:54, 3 replies)
Ladies who don't have control of their bowels
Are hot and men want to have sex with them, right?
Right?
( , Fri 3 Oct 2008, 16:40, closed)
Are hot and men want to have sex with them, right?
Right?
( , Fri 3 Oct 2008, 16:40, closed)
Erm.....
...what a sight you must have been! That mystery person who helped you, must have been a saint, because I'd have left you in the street if you'd filled your pants! *click*
( , Fri 3 Oct 2008, 13:30, closed)
...what a sight you must have been! That mystery person who helped you, must have been a saint, because I'd have left you in the street if you'd filled your pants! *click*
( , Fri 3 Oct 2008, 13:30, closed)
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