The Shopping Trolley (or how to permanently alter one's facial features)
Back in the heady days of my youth, I'm ashamed to say i was a chav of the highest order. Puffa Jacket? - Check. Fila Trainers? - Check. Disgusting yellow-gold jewellery from Elizabeth Duke at Argos? - Check.

With this in mind, and it being the early '90s you can see why I thought the coolest thing in the fucking world (and the one thing SURE to make the ladies swoon over my puny 11 year old frame) was to be the best rollerskater this side of side of the zider farm.

I went religiously to the roller disco and gradually got good enough that I was allowed on the ramps with the bigger boys, for a precious 10 minutes per week whilst my peers were temporarily banished from the rink to watch forlornly from the sidelines.

Having been granted my new god-like status, I felt it was time to 'up' my game. I went with a select few friends to an empty Safeway carpark one Sunday afternoon and we made jumps. Stupid jumps. Jumps made from beer crates and hardboard. We didn't know how flimsy wet hardboard can get and our jumps failed horribly.

With no ramp left, out only option was to jump OVER things.

1x beer crate - Easy
2x stacked beer crates - Done
3x stacked beer crates - BOSH! - I'm a jumping god!
But, hang on, 3 crates are higher than a trolley, I bet I can jump one of those...

I took a hefty run-up of around 15 parking spaces and wet full steam ahead towards the trolley. As I flew majestically through the air, I knew something was wrong. I was dropping too quickly. I managed to land IN the trolley! But my momentum, coupled with the fucking stupid wheels trolleys have, whipped my legs from under me so fast, I didn't even have time to put my arms out to break my fall.

What I did do, was break my fall with my teeth. A full-on, face-plant, front teeth landing. There was barely any skin left on my face and man, was I covered in blood...

I did what any 11 year old would do and bawled my fucking eyes out whilst skating home fuelled by pure adreneline.

My mates tell me they couldn't leave the car park for a good ten minutes due to sheer pant-wetting hysteria.

Bastards.

EDIT: I am no longer a chav.
(Colonel Santiago Introduced surprised kitty to the world., Thu 21 Jan 2010, 13:33, 1 reply)

Have a click
If only for owning up for having been a chav.
(ParaSitius is an Optimistic Pessimist, Fri 22 Jan 2010, 16:36, closed)