Ribena
More a picky drinker than a picky eater. Cant drink the stuff. Makes me break out in a cold sweat because of what happened when I was 8 on a school trip to Alton Towers...

On the M1 and about halfway to the fun the driver and two teachers who were paid to coralle us were getting a bit tetchy. There's only so many times an adult can here a bunch of kids sing The Chicken Song by Spitting Image on a continuous loop before they commit infanticide. So, we pulled into a big service station to give them a break and to let us explore this weird new world where there were Kings of Burgers and strange vending machines with strange rubber things inside. Me and my mates were a bit thirsty and decided to go and stock up on pop and crisps. I had been entrusted by my dear old mum with a crisp £5 note and told not to waste it on rubbish. So while my mates were slumming it with coca-cola and pepsi, I went to the rolls royce end of the sugary drinks market and bought a fucking huge bottle of ribena. Ribena was special in my house. It cost about twice as much as normal squash and came in a smaller bottle. So it was rare as angel piss and only found its way into my mums weekly shopping on birthdays and xmas (yes, we were poor- no harm in that).

After eating my way through a load of salty snacks I got a bit thirsty but thought I'd wait until I got on the bus to quench my thirst. Ribena was worth the wait. I was probably more exited about having a swig of that than I was about going to a damn theme park.

Back on the bus and back on the motorway, I brought out my prize and showed it round to my mates who were all pretty impressed. (We're from Northampton and easily impressed by most common or garden household objects).

I had a drink and it was bloody awful. My mate pointed out that I'd bought a fuck off big bottle of undiluted Ribena. I told him I prefered the undiluted stuff because it was stronger and meant that I was harder because I could handle it. I then drank the whole bottle of the stuff in little sips because it was awful, like drinking thick sweet soup.

By the time we got to Alton Towers the stomach cramps kicked in. By the time we got in the front gate and were set free, my insides were onfire and I was bent over in pain. I felt like a donkey had kicked me in the bollocks and set my anus on fire. It really was that bad.

We spent five hours at Alton Towers. I spent five hours sat on a stinking toilet with purple blackcurrenty-smelling shit shot-gunning out my arse.

Never touched the stuff since.
( SpankyHanky, Thu 8 Mar 2007, 11:16, Reply)