Oh, I was a bad lad.
When I was about 13, I had a friend who lived in a small, reasonably isolated commuter village, let's call it Southwater. One day, there was a bit of trouble at his house. Basically, his mum had just come out of the shower and changed, happened to look in the right direction out her window at the right moment, and saw one of the neighbours spying on her with a pair of binoculars.

Her son, not the most balanced or sensible of 13-year olds (which is coincidentally why I liked him so much) vowed revenge upon the peeping tom, and having nothing better to do that summer I was his willing accomplice.

We terrorised them for about two months. We broke their windows, set their boat on fire, daubed 'PERV' in white paint on their driveway. I should mention this guy was married with two young children. God knows what he told his wife.

Our reign of terror was halted when they hired a 24-hour-a-day security guard. A few months later they moved away. Our ultimate trophy was a For Sale sign that we stole off the lawn despite the massive security presence.

The moral of the story is: see what teenagers do before they discover weed? I suggest compulsory skinning up lessons in primary school.
(CerberaSpeedTwelve, Fri 26 Aug 2005, 16:44, Reply)