I ran away from running away.
Last year I was working for a sales company named Cobra, which was pretty much an evil cult. People disappeared and were never spoken of again, I worked 10am til 11pm on the streets selling gas and electricity to Alzheimer's sufferers, non-anglophones and cripples and finished the day with a happy clappy dance and ringing a bell with all the other cultists.

Anyway, one day my leader (yes, 'leader') called me to say that the office was closing the next day and I'd have to move to Coventry if I wanted a shot at the big time.
So, being the moron that I am, I loaded my suit and packets of cheesy wotsits into my car, on being asked by my Mum where I was going I just said
"Coventry"
"Why? For how long?"
"Forever, seeya"
She cried and I ran away from home.

For 2 weeks I lived in a Formule 1 hotel with a Mexican named Edgar, a big black dude called Nathan and a dog called JJ, we had to share a double bed but we were working all day so we didn't care.

Eventually I came to my senses (after a near bum raping by a Coventry native) and refused to go to work one day. I went back to my hotel, packed my cases, threw the dog out the window (ground floor) and left my team to it (I had 2 people working for me that I'd recruited from the streets, one called Dicky Henrys and another who couldn't speak a word of english). I ran away again.

I started driving, not knowing why or where I was going so using my retarded sense of geography I called my friend Rob who lived in Bristol to see what he was up to. He had just graduated, a full on rock session was called for.

I arrived in Bristol still wearing my suit and tie and explained the situation to Rob, we went out and got conclusively drunk.
I decided we were going to France, we booked the Ferry tickets and a few days later set off in my car.

We began a week of drunken lunacy involving escaping from a camp site, drunk driving, shitting on the Eiffel Tower, wearing berets and being kicked out of youth hostels.

At the end of the week we were burnt out and my Mum kept ringing me but I just put the phone down as answering it would cost me money.

So, a month after running away from home I returned and my Mum asks

"Where have you been? I've been ringing you I thought you'd been mugged or killed or something! Nobody knew where you were!"

"Yeah I went to France, I've quit my job by the way."

Then I went to bed. I run away the hardest.


i13.photobucket.com/albums/a276/stevemotron/bigwhiskey.jpg
I can't think of a better reason to run away than a bottle of whiskey almost as big as a man, can you?
(Bellamy's Enemy, Fri 11 Aug 2006, 14:58, Reply)