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(, Sun 1 Apr 2001, 1:00)
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My mother wouldn't let me and my brother use belts as whips to play Indiana Jones in the living room. We always wondered why until one day we broke the rules and whipped a vase full of flowers and water off the mantle piece on to the telly.
(, Tue 31 Aug 2010, 14:41, 1 reply, 16 years ago)
It was World War Three if I got bike oil on my Dash tracksuit.
Fucking pastel colours. I felt tangible relief when Vanish was invented.
(, Tue 31 Aug 2010, 14:43, Reply)
there was a little hiss sound, then a blue spark, a flash followed by a puff of blue grey smoke and a horrid smell. We just started crying and waiting for the inevitable arse beating.
pastel tracksuit eh! styling.
(, Tue 31 Aug 2010, 14:45, Reply)
Every bank holiday some other creation that looked like it was intended to be worn only by Lizzie Webb would be acquired on my mother's John Lewis storecard :(
(, Tue 31 Aug 2010, 14:51, Reply)
Better than the gay little C&A outfits I was put in. Little cords and gimpy shirt jumper combinations! fuck off mum I want a he man shirt and some global hyper colour!
(, Tue 31 Aug 2010, 14:52, Reply)
Dresses all year round then special occasions would be fucking jumbo cords and hiking boots.
(, Tue 31 Aug 2010, 15:02, Reply)
But I am pretty convinced it will be worse than that Big Daddy film. If I had had that choice as a child I would have spent my time from the age of 5 to about twelve dressed as a Jedi.
(, Tue 31 Aug 2010, 15:04, Reply)
Fucking massive y-fronts. Horrible, horrible.
(, Tue 31 Aug 2010, 15:08, Reply)
Until what age? I had to have a chat with my mum when she intended to send me back to boarding school with 9 pairs of assorted Y fronts. I was 14!
(, Tue 31 Aug 2010, 15:13, Reply)
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