i've been
yammering about this for a qotw for ages!

my favourites are the one about the old lady who shat herself at christmas dinner - it's the way it's phrased - and the one about the guy who bought a "beautiful loving black hamster" for his daughter.

1: My daughter's hamster

It's my daughter's 4th birthday and I go up to the posh bit of Enfield and buy a beautiful loving black hamster and a hamster cage.

The hamster comes in a cardboard box that I place on the seat of my car as I drive down to Hackney.

Well, it starts battering away at the sides of the box so I put the box into the footwell of the passenger seat.

I got home, went into the house with the cage and then returned to the car. The hamster had bitten a hole through it's box and as I'd left the car doors open had fucked off into the street.

Fuck. Anyways its only 4pm so I'll go to a Hackney pet shop and get a replacement hamster.

I get to the pet shop and ask for a hamster. "OK!" says the young lad who's underage working in the shop.

Anyway he shows me this golden hamster in it's cage. "OK that'll do!" I say. He opens the cage and grabs the hamster which does not move. "Oh err he must be sleeping! I'll see if there are any others!". The hamster in the cage is clearly dead. Anyway he gets me another hamster from the back of the shop. And this is a Hackney hamster. It's got attitude, an ASBO and wears a hoodie. It starts screaming away as it gets put into its cardboard box but I think fuck it I can't let my dear daughter down.

Anyway I install the hamster in its cage and then drive into middle of London to collect my daughter from nursery.

My daughter's birthday is in November so it's dark by now.

As Im travelling along I look in the rearview mirror and I see the original black hamster cleaning its paws on the rear parcel shelf. Fuck me. I thought I'd beeter catch it and put it back in its box otherwise my daughter might freak out in the car.

So I stop the car and then suddenly get an inordinate fear of being bitten by this hamster. So I put on a pair of big ski gloves that I had handy and began to try and catch this fucking hamster.

So there I am, on a dark evening, looking for a black hamster in a black-trimmed car with a pair of black gloves on. Fucking genius.

Anyway I caught it after 15 mins put it in ots own cardboard box, nested that box into the econd cardboard box and put the fucker in the boot.

Anyway I picked my daughter up and was travelling back to Hackney and got at attack of guilt. What if the poor hamster was suffocating? I could have that on my conscience even though I was secretly thinking of murdering the working class Hackney hamster.

So I opened the boot and fuck me the little bastard had chewed through both boxes and was free in the car. Fuck it I thought.

So I start driving again and sure enough the little fucker was on the parcel shel again loking straight at the mirror - and I swear it was smiling.

Anyway I screeched to a halt opemed the back door and the hamster shot off into Newington Green never to be seen again.

2 days later my daughter leaves the lid off the cage and the mad Hackney gangsta hamster escape and comes a ropper in a moustrap we had down.

So we replaced it with a pair of the wifes tights all rolled up and she was quite happy with that (she thought it was having a really long sleep) for a couple of weeks until we got a third hamster.

(tonyhrx)

2: A truly ancient female friend of the family used to join us for Xmas dinner every year, until what we have come to know as 'THE INCIDENT'.

It was obvious she was going off the rails quite early in the day, when she explained to my mum that she didn't want any turkey because her hairdresser had, earlier in the week, attempted to kill her by means of some unduly agitated brushing. She had since spoken to a doctor, she continued, who had explained that this vicious attack had given her water on the brain and, as a result, she should never eat poultry ever again. Obviously.

So we indulged her, but she got more and more peculiar as the day wore on. Things reached a peak, I feel, at about the point where she explained that the RAF were carrying out some form of black magic rituals in her garden, as proved by the small group of minuscule people, about six inches high, who had taken up residence on her windowsill.

By this stage she had clearly had one sherry too many - one sherry, in this case - as her next action, as we sat staring at each other and our shoes in a slightly awkward manner, was to shit herself and then panic quite badly. And let me tell you, there can't be much that puts more of a damper on your christmas evening than a demented and severely agitated old person shambling around the living room caked in shit.

(Wong Fei-Hung)
( rachelswipe with a fork, Tue 19 Aug 2008, 10:41, Reply)