A while ago, when I was on a bus...
I saw a young gentleman swinging with gay, reckless abandon on a gate outside the Costume Museum, Wilmslow Road in Manchester. His beaming visage a picture of the mighty invincibility that only comes from the knowledge that you, a 10 yr-old boy, are not only fucking nails, but also WAAAAA-AAAAY COOL.

He fell mid-swing, his schoolbag linking onto the gate so that not only did he fall headfirst onto the ground, smacking face-first into the dirt, he continued to swing across at the same time, scraping said face againt the floor. When he looked up, his once proud pomp was a mess of gravel, tears and snot, and his bag was wrapped round his head like a shiny Nike turban full of pencils. He was utter vanquished, safe now in the knowledge that he would die, stinking and alone, cursing the very day he mounted that gate.

Thankfully the bus was full of schoolchildren at the time, so my shrieking 'AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHYADICK'EAD!' with accompanying window-banging was pretty much par for the course. I was 24.
(Gertcha_cowson NAH MATE, Thu 17 Dec 2009, 15:35, 3 replies)

Beautiful, just beautiful.
Well-told, too.
(anvil, Thu 17 Dec 2009, 15:39, closed)

Office lol
*clicks*
(wehttamman via B3ta for microwave, Thu 17 Dec 2009, 15:43, closed)

"wrapped round his head like a shiny Nike turban full of pencils"
Fucking Yes!
( Evil Bastardo, Thu 17 Dec 2009, 16:45, closed)