Not sure if this has been mentioned before but frankspencer’s tale reminded me of squirrels...
Squirrels has been know to collect fag butts, thinking they're tasty nuts, they chew on them and develop a taste for the sweet, sweet nicotine inside. So much so that when they need a fix and spot some picnickers lighting up they pounce! Soon, the fiending squirrels associate humans with nicotine and start attacking indiscriminately.
(kurious orange, Tue 25 Mar 2008, 12:05, 2 replies)

Not a funny story.
My cousin, who has smoked weed and skunk heavily since his late teens (he's now 30), tried to commit suicide on Saturday night. He was severely depressed by the fact that he was an unemployed weed-addict, living in a squat, spending what little money he had on drugs and tobacco.
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Tue 25 Mar 2008, 11:53, Reply)

More shame
To my utter shame I let down a religious man from India the other day.

That fellow b3tan’s was my first and only ‘Sikh regret’
(Deskbound You insignificant speck of dust, Tue 25 Mar 2008, 11:47, Reply)

I don't smoke da reefa
I was in the same class at school as the bloke wot rote dat garage smash hit. *FACT*

Last I heard he was in prison for robbing a petrol station.
(Errorist, Tue 25 Mar 2008, 11:42, 2 replies)

Speaking of .sigs
Once when I got a brand new Unix box to play with, I wanted to post something to a newsgroup so I created a .sig. When I posted my message, I realised that I was accidentally logged into the administrative account instead of my home account. I read my message and saw right in front of me... my first .sig of root.

Length? About 3 lines.
( mistaspakkaman and the inedible shifting caterpillars, Tue 25 Mar 2008, 11:23, Reply)

allegory alert
It was a typical day in the forest. Barry Squirrel was scratching his nuts; Edward Badger was humping a rabbit corpse, and Gunter Magpie was re-ordering his collection of milk-bottle tops and stolen jewellery. Birdsong and the lazy hum of bees filled the cool, green shadows.

"Christ, this is boring!" said Edward, disengaging from the dead bunny. "There must be something better than this. Why don't we have a competition to see who can come up with a better way to pass the time. The prize will be a bag of whatever you like most."

Barry imagined a bag of crisp acorns. Gunter imagined a load of necklaces and coins. Edward imagined a bag of hallucinogenic mushrooms. And so they set to work.

After a week, Barry presented his invention: a rudimentary see-saw with a bowl of acorns at each end. This was universally derided as a piece of shit by his friends. Gunter had created a kind of assault course with a variety of baffling obstacles for them to leap through. But being a bird, he was able to cheat and was mocked for his pathetic attempts to win. Edward Badger, however, had created something entirely new.

"It's a piece of paper filled with dry leaves," he said. "You set fire to one end and breathe in the smoke."

"Why would you do that?," asked Barry. "We all know that breathing smoke will kill you. Look at Henry Cow or Brian Ferret - they both inhaled smoke during the barn fire and they died. I think you had sex with Brian's corpse, Edward."

"Ah, but it's fun," said Edward. "It will make us look cool. We can make everyone else do it and we'll be the kings of the forest. Here - try it for yourselves."

So the three friends all put the burning leaves in their mouths and they all agreed that the experience was very unpleasant. Barry coughed and then vomited. Edward just vomited, and Gunter croaked for days afterwards. It was broadly considered to be a piss-poor invention. "But we'll get used to it!" urged Edward.

"Why would we want to? I wouldn't like to get used to cutting my paws or banging my head against a tree," said Barry. "If you don't like something, there's no reason to try it again."

"But what if everyone else is doing it?" asked Edward. "And what if we put a tiny amount of magic mushrooms in each one so the other animals won't be able to stop themselves? And what if we advertise our invention throughout the forest? We'll pay Harvey the Owl to smoke some - and everyone respects his opinion."

"Won't we all die?" asked Gunter. "Inhaling burning leaves for a while can't be good for you. And the magic mushrooms will probably cause long-term cerebral damage."

Well, there's was no arguing with Edward and he went into full-scale production. Soon, all the animals in the forest were inhaling burning leaves. Everywhere one looked, there were animals with tubes of burning leaves sticking out of their mouths. A few wildfires destroyed parts of the forest, and a number of animals dropped dead, but it was such a popular craze that Edward did indeed become very successful. Nobody seemed to mind that everybody smelled of burned leaves and that the once peaceful forest was full of coughing, phlegm and discarded butts.

Eventually, all of the animals died from the effects of inhaling smoke, including Edward. Even those animals who'd never smoked were affected by the smoke from others. As Barry Squirrel gasped his last on a ventilator, he suddenly had a great idea - which he passed on to his squirrel kin gathered around the hospital bed:

"Wouldn't it be great if we could ferment acorns and produce an alcoholic beverage? We could all drink it until our internal organs rot, and we'd have a great time as we all drank too much and got into fights at the weekend. We'd leave our partners, fall out of trees, vomit and piss away our lives because it would be cool and everyone else would be doing it, too!"

Barry's young son Hermann looked sadly at his father. "What a fucking dickhead!" he concluded.
(frankspencer, Tue 25 Mar 2008, 11:11, 8 replies)

I used to post frequently on an internet forum
Of course at the end of every post you have what is known within internet circles as a 'signature'. Being a risque character I featured Prince being fucked up the poop-chute by George Bush as I sincerely dislike the pair of them. The Bushmeister must have got the feds onto me though as they found me and incaracerated me.

That was my first sig-arrest.
( whenanimalsattackhumans clad in global hypercolour, Tue 25 Mar 2008, 10:15, Reply)

Might have misread this QOTW
I once built, over the course of three minutes and eighty-five seconds, a large stepped pyramid on the roof of my father's car.

I then drove all around town shouting out of the window so that everyone could see my first ziggarut.
(DarkLite swallowed my entire undercarriage, Tue 25 Mar 2008, 10:13, 1 reply)

slightly off-topic, but: marijuana
...weed, hash, cannabis, skunk, whatever.

They shouldn't spend so much money on fancy ad campaigns or headline-grabbing research in order to dissuade people from smoking too much of the stuff.

They should just make my colleagues tour the schools:

One smoked various grades of weed intermittently for around 15 years and now has regular bouts of time off work while he's sectioned, spending time in what he calls "nut houses" where he reckons about 50% of the patients' psychoses, schizophrenias, paranoias and freakout rolling-eye dementias are weed-related.

One guy desperately wants to escape his polite middle-class upbringing and be a proper Rude Boy and has taken to buying and smoking as much weed as he can from as many sources, that he frequently turns up to work more or less incoherent. He's well on his way to being fired from the only job he's ever had and although he secretly wants a responsible job in the emergency services, if he gets the boot and blows a few years, his health and his inheritance on crap drugs then the job will never be his.

And my nearest colleague, an eight-year weed smoker responsible for several members of staff and a lot of dangerous equipment, has such unpredictable mood swings that conversation with him is always like a slightly more sociable game of Minesweeper. Fortunately his short-term memory is so mashed that fifteen minutes' later he'll have completely forgotten what he was just so angry about...
( sanityclause is waiting until, Tue 25 Mar 2008, 10:12, Reply)

The shame of it
I used to cut up strips of A4 paper, grab some sticky tape and cotton wool and assemble my cylindrical death tubes. The secret ingredient? Loose tea.

That’s right folks, I used to ‘smoke’ tea.

My first real ciggie was at age 14, along with a bottle of scrumpy. Them’s were the days (sighs)
(Deskbound You insignificant speck of dust, Tue 25 Mar 2008, 9:55, Reply)

Cigarettes + Playboy = fire
Not my story but a friends. And true as well...

I shall call him Garth (for that is his name). Garth was at Middle School in FishHoek in South Africa and was mad a prefect. As a treat, the prefects were allowed to come on on a weekend and paint their prefects room to make it "theirs".

This they did but obviously smuggkled bits of contraband in. Garth and a couple of friends decided that for safety sake, and to avoid getting caught tby the janitor, they would climb into the ceiling of the room and view their stolen copies of Playboy and drink their beer in there...

Genius!

Anyway, one of them had also stolen a pack of cigarettes and they all duly decided that this was indeed awesome and they would all start smoking straight away.

Someone dropped a match, it caught ion the Playboy magazine and soon there was a little fire.

This fire grew and they decided that it was time to leave the ceiling.

Anyway, the fire got bigger and in the end burnt down the entire school building.

Their parents were less than impressed, as were the School who stripped the guys of their prefectship. Harsh bastards....
( zulu eh?, Tue 25 Mar 2008, 8:09, Reply)

My first puff was also my last...
Thinking about it, this could also go under "how geeky are you?", but anyway.

I was at a Gentoo "Christmas" party. In November. A few people had gone out for food, so there was a few of us left.

I was being taught how to roll cigarettes, since I expressed interest. I had no idea why, I just did. Mae was teaching me how to backroll (where you end up with spare paper outside of the rolled cig. You burn the paper using a lighter to get rid of it). She joked at me that now I'd rolled it, I'd have to smoke it. I'd never tried a cig (and me being 20 shocked her), so I had no idea how you'd smoke it. She decided to get the thing going, and then handed it over.

At first I couldn't get the whole thing right. I'd not breath the smoke down. After a few mins, she finally told me in a clear way how to do so. I closed my eyes and took the first puff of a cig...

I have NEVER gagged so much in my life. My lungs burnt, I felt like I was going to throw up. My body was rejecting the taste, the smell and my lungs at the same time. It took about half an hour to recover. These days if I think back to the puff I took, I still gag.

Never ever again.
(NeoThermic Mon 9 Apr, 22:49, Fri 13 Apr, 16:28, Wed 19 May, Tue 25 Mar 2008, 5:09, Reply)

Ah, I remember my first cigarette. And my second.
Me and my friend had managed to swipe one from somewhere, and after getting home off the school bus, we went through the park to smoke it.

I forgot, however, that my house backed on to it and my parents saw us sneak furtively past the swings, heading to the "tunnel" to smoke our illcit booty.

I don't think they saw us do the deed, but stepping through the door a good half hour later, intrigued as to where we had been, the inevitable question came, "Where have you been?"

With near-perfect comedy timing we responded, at the same time, "At the shop", and "In town".

My parents seemed to let this go, but convinced I stank of smoke, I jumped straight in the shower and afterwards, drowned myself with Lynx. (Mmm, lynx - truly the choice deoderant of the gods.)

Next day, my friend pointed out that if I was gonna do that every time I had a fag, it probably wasn't worth taking up smoking.

I should have heeded his advice.

My next episode of smoking occured in my third year of secondary school.

All through Double Maths we had been planning to go for a crafty smoke at the top of the school field.

At the end of the lesson, though, the teacher asked me where I was going, and - I'll never forget this, for shame - I replied, "Down there, I'm not going to smoke!" And I ran out of the room. Literally, I ran.

WTF? What a pussy!!! She only asked me cos if I was going past the staff room, she wanted me to drop off some books off.

It was at that point that I realised I was never gonna be a criminal mastermind, cos I am a pussy.

Now, though, I smoke like a badger cos it's fuckin' great.
( nightbuffalo needs more duct tape, Tue 25 Mar 2008, 4:00, 2 replies)

As an addition to the previous...
What's everyone's opinion on the smoking ban? Ok, so it's old news now but it still bugs me that the smell of sweat in clubs and gigs has now reached overpowering levels. At least that uniformly blanketing smell of fags covered it up. I get particularly annoyed because the pool table in my local is right next to the bogs and nothing puts you off a pint of bitter like the smell of stale piss.
(Dok Zombie Cash, gash, pie and mash., Tue 25 Mar 2008, 0:55, 8 replies)

Kind of ironic...
Despite having smoked cigars, joints, pipes, bongs etc... I've never even so much as put a fag to my lips.

Dunno why, but when I got to about 16 and realised I'd never smoked a cigarette and everyone else I knew had at least taken a drag I decided to see if I could go my entire life without doing it.

However as you get older and money becomes tighter and peer pressure sets in people are less inclined to offer, so it's not as impressive a display of willpower as it once was.
(Dok Zombie Cash, gash, pie and mash., Tue 25 Mar 2008, 0:47, Reply)

smoking related horror
15 years old, sitting in my garage on a box, wearing a leather jacket and fingerless gloves and smoking a badly-made roll-up with liquorice papers and black cherry loose tobacco.

The moment I realised that not only was I a pretentious-as-fuck art student wannabe, but that I had TURNED INTO MY MOTHER.
(Samara Morgan is a small blue thing, like a marble or an eye, Tue 25 Mar 2008, 0:34, Reply)

Gang rights
Growin' up in the big city was tough. Me and my buddies, Dave, Jeff, King, and a few others, we was all sittin' pretty an' runnin' our rackets. Gettin' an honest livin' was alright if you didn' mind bein' poor fo' the rest o' your life.

Rival gangs were always tryin' to muscle in on our territory and often did stuff, stuff they hoped would cave us in. Usual things were shootin' up our mules or scaring away business but it weren't 'till Big Johnny moved in things got ugly.

Big Johnny were a mountain of puss in a molehill of crap. We couldn't touch 'im, an' his boys hurt us pretty bad. I sent King to collect from the laundry owners, protection money y'see, an' didn't hear back from 'im 'til a bag arrived wit' 'im in it. Or some of 'im anyway.

We gave him to the hungry river and watched our frien' swim his last swim. Not bein' overly emotional us boys just watched him go in silence, wonderin' what was in store for us.

A few days later his head arrived in the mail, with a note from Big Johnny sayin' he wanted us gone and to clear out before the rest of us got the same treatment... We knew we were beat, and bein' outside the law as we were, with our modest enterprise an' all, we had no chance. My sister's cousin was runnin' somethin' down in anotha city so we reckoned we'd try there. So that's why, after we packed up and headed out past the river, I gave up some mo' King.


No apologies for length! This one took a lot of delicate craftmanship.
(satellite blows, Tue 25 Mar 2008, 0:29, 3 replies)

Convent Girls Hide their Habits
As many of you will remember I attended a Convent school.

A very strict Convent school.

The type of Convent school where you are required to wear two pairs of knickers for PE.

The type of Convent school where they only employ women or men over the age of 70 or in total desperation timid men who bear more than a passing resemblance to Richard Richard from Bottom but without the leching or the charisma and sex appeal.



So, bearing in mind these facts, it will come as no surprise to discover that smoking was against school rules.

As was chewing or even being in possession of chewing or bubblegum - all down to a governor sitting on a gum incrusted seat and the school being charged the dry-cleaning bill.

Smoking however was the cardinal sin - not just against school rules, but even being found with cigarettes upon your person was rewarded with instant expulsion and possibly served with a side order of excommunication or at the very least a spell in purgatory.


In this harsh regime girls who were boarders had to find other routes and methods for indulging in their tobacco and nicotine addiction.

So what options are available to young girls?

Young girls who are endlessly resourceful.

Young girls who have a healthy disregard for social mores and love nothing more than to cock a snook at authority.

Young girls who already have the deserved reputation of being cruel and unkind to all - in particular to timid male teachers who resemble Richard Richard - whom they conspire to gently lead to having a mental breakdown by suggesting they were in love with him.


These girls used a simple but effective set of code words in order to discuss their cigarette stocks, requirements and future plans for enfumation down at the beach behind the huts and in preference in the company of a few of the boys from the next-door school run by monks.

The boys of course had no need other than that of their raging testosterone levels to smoke behind the beach huts as the monks in their infinite wisdom had provided a smoking room for the use of both Sixth formers and staff alike - rumour had it that a glass of port was also available to the upper echelons of the prefecture.


The code words used were all relating to a subject which was so taboo, so private, feminine, intimate and entirely natural thus leaving the guilty perpetrators both above suspicion and entirely without interrogation.

The word used in place of cigarette was tampon.

Many times in faux cockney accents home counties 'gels' could be heard calling across classrooms, "Oi! You got any tampons? I'm desperate for a slash!"


One of my friends decided she would like to become one of the Mockney 'in crowd' and take up tampon use. Unfortunately she thought that when they discussed boxes of twenty they were in fact referring to boxes of twenty Tampax or maybe even Lil-Lets.

My friend Ann dreamed of the day when she too could take up roller-skating - preferably being pulled along by a large slavering Dalmatian whilst she screamed from the top of her lungs something about "Waaaaaaaaaaaa! Booooooddddyyyyy Fooooooooorrrrrrrmmmmmm!"


So Ann, being a boarder and thus without ready access to tampons - real or smoked - employed another friend of mine, Jules, in her explorations leading to becoming one of the Tampon Users. Jules purchased a pack of ten for Ann and then retired to a safe distance (the common room) while Ann took her plan another step forward.


That afternoon passed without incident although Ann continued to look uncomfortable throughout. The following day all became clear and Ann gained for herself a new nickname - The Cardboard Kid.


For those of you unacquainted with the physics of applicator tampons, they come ready loaded, as it were, within a telescopic cardboard casing.
The casing is inserted, the lower telescopic tube then pushed gently within the upper tube thus expelling and correctly seating the tampon.
The cardboard casing, both tubes now one within the other, are withdrawn, leaving the user comfortable and able to take up roller-skating.

Unfortunately Ann had not bothered to read the instructions, so keen she was to become a Tampon User. This had resulted in her leaving the tubing in place.

All day.


Ann was put off tampon use for life.

She was already a smoker and continues to smoke to this day, the 'in crowd' however never took her into their inner circle so she like the boys next door had to continue to bum fags.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Tue 25 Mar 2008, 0:13, 20 replies)

another
I tried to join a fundamentalist Nazi organisation. Until I saw how much the subscription fee was. Fuck that, thought I.

That's when I realised that 'Sieg Heil rates' were not to my liking.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Mon 24 Mar 2008, 23:50, 1 reply)

Any good punnage yet? Ah well...
In the early 90s, I tried to release a computer platform game about a cyan porcupine that went about collecting disks and helping animals. However a rather large Japanese company sent me a cease & desist letter (albeit in ropey English).

That was my bad experience with Sega's rights.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Mon 24 Mar 2008, 23:46, Reply)

i am a posh twat
the only thing i've ever smoked is part of a havana cigar
i was in a show at school, the cigar was needed as a prop, at the end we smoked it
trouble was, it had got so tattered through constant non-smoking during the show that it had had to be patched up with tape, glue, etc etc
the melting solvents gave it an extra kick, and probably also contributed to putting me off smoking for life
( charlie?, Mon 24 Mar 2008, 23:39, Reply)

My very first cigarette was when I was in the womb. . .
. . .not really...at least I don't think so? Ah well.

Anyways, the very first time was when I was nine, or was it eleven...I can't remember properly...anyways, my sister took a walk up my street in the middle of the night and I followed her, because I was bored. She said I could come as long as I didn't tell anyone. Then she pulled out a cigarette, and lit it up. My thoughts were something like "Elise is SMOKING? She's so cool" (yes...I was very lame). Then I asked if I could try and she said sure.

Lets just say I didn't smoke again until I was about 14ish, trying to impress my ugly, lame ex boyfriend-thing (he was hardly a boyfriend really)...and I got addicted, but quit after a year, thanks to my current boyfriend =)

And I haven't touched a cigarette since. woo!

Sorry for the lame-ness, I'm horrid at writing.
(Grass, Mon 24 Mar 2008, 23:18, Reply)

'Why should OUR TAX MONEY pay for treatment for smokers?'
It pisses me off no end when people say this.

My response is usually 'Do you skydive/ride a motorbike/swim/cycle/walk down the street? Why should MY TAX MONEY pay for your treatment if you ever have an accident?'

People are going to partake in activities which may be harmful to one's health, and no-one has any right to stop them.
(Half of Stephen Fry's right buttock pissed on your dog on, Mon 24 Mar 2008, 22:42, 12 replies)

Odd ways of picking up the habit
I occasionally run a therapy group in my home.

I am in no way a trained therapist, my only experience of it being on the receiving end of a multitude of patronizing question and answer sessions. I do, however, own a lighter, various bottles of vodka, a large bowl, and an unhealthy interest in burning things.

Thus my Let's Burn Stuff Therapy was born - a friends-only service, but I do take it very seriously. I talk to the Service User (as they like to be called these days), I have them explain their motivations for coming to me in all possible detail (even if I know it already), throw in some amatuer Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, take reems of notes, and provide follow-up sessions within 6-weeks. Objects with strong emotional attachment are then placed in a bowl (these must, if possible, include a photo of the offending party), various funeral-esque things are read-out (they must come prepared with a pre-burning statement of intent) and the detritus is set alight amongst great ceremony (candles, incense, music, have yet to try chanting). No hints of forgiveness are allowed until after the last embres have died - just let the fucker burn.

It sometimes takes an hour or more to burn the offending items, so it's a two-bird-one-stone with the money saved on heating bills.

...

And the smoking? After a few lungfulls of burning memories, you're hooked. Cigarettes are there to tide me over until the next Therapy Session.

=)

Not to mention it's like burning minatures of my ex (she was stick-thin, pasty-white, and orangey on top).

Ah, sweet, burny revenge.

Length? When you're ginger, any length is too long. Just shave it all off. Man or woman.
( Matoosh would rather like a biscuit, Mon 24 Mar 2008, 19:48, Reply)

Lung damage
The story of my first cig is way too boring, so here's another one about how I took my lungs to the limit.

I had a (very short) period when I smoked about 40 cigs a day and about 10 joints of pure low-grade weed.
How is that possible? It's not. As I regularly had bronchitis as a kid and not too good lungs as a result, the tar strain took its toll after about two weeks of such a diet.
It was like that:
I woke up and took a deep breath. Rather, I wanted to take a deep breath, because the next thing I felt was an excruciating pain in the chest, as if rings of steel were around it, restricting my breathing. Naturally, I was terrified and as the usual morning cough-up of brown slime didn't relieve the pain, I rushed, pardon, walked very slowly and carefully to the next hospital.
After having a look at the xray-pic of my chest, the doc said my lungs looked like the ones of a 70-yo smoker, who had smoked for 55 years. He prescribed me about 8 different medicines and sent me home.
I looked at all the antibiotics and other crap on the prescription, which would have cost me a fortune and decided I would only buy one drug which would make my breathing easier by expanding the bronchi.
So I took on a strict low-cal fruit-veg diet and with the help of these cheap pills coughed up all of the black stuff from inside my lungs in the next few weeks. I swore I would never smoke again.

As soon as I was healthy again (10 days max), I started smoking, but on a more moderate basis.

I quit smoking everything about 5 years later and I don't regret it.

(Sorry for unfunnyness... it really wasn't funny.)
( Zhmei HEY B3TA I WAS ON YOUR DINGY ISLAND AT LAST!1!, Mon 24 Mar 2008, 19:24, Reply)

My wee cousin
was a comical fellow. Much of the time, he was unconsciously funny. While at work one day, one of the guys we worked with told us he was attempting to give up smoking. "You'll manage it no bother" says my cousin. "I dunno," says Kevin, "I think it's gonna be tough." "Naaaah" says my cuz,"giving up's easy. I've gave up lots of times." He didn't know why we were all laughing.
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Mon 24 Mar 2008, 17:49, Reply)

first time smoking a rollup-
I used to buy about 20 per fortnight when in 6th form just to blend in with the crowd I was getting to know and like (idiot) and offering the fags around was a useful ice-breaker with unfamiliar new faces. But then it became 'cool' and 'studenty' to get rizlas and hand rolling tobacco instead so I observed what the 'cool' kids were doing and then went to John Menzies to get the stuff.

Rizlas were no problem, one red, one green, one liquorice - but when it came to the tobacco my mind did an advertising-induced trick so while I thought I was asking for a pouch of Golden Virginia, my mouth asked for Mellow Virginia instead - pipe tobacco. Too embarrassed to admit my mistake I left the kiosk in silence.

It was like rolling twigs, but I persisted- wasn't actually horrible, just a bit ... well, Mellow.

Fast forward a week to a Junior Common Room party at a venue in Aston and I was just sparking up a Mellow rollup when two other lads from the college walked by and stopped, espying my rather larger-than-normal exotic smelling cigarette and asked furtively 'Hey mate, can we have a go on that?'.

Being the soul of generosity asnd assuming they had no fags of their own I handed it over and was somewhat surprised to see them both thake several really heavy drags and then attempt to hold their breath... handing it back one of them gasped 'Good shit, man...'

Silly students! Pipe tobacco is not ganja!
( Rotating Wobbly Hat That's not a banana. THIS is a banana., Mon 24 Mar 2008, 17:36, Reply)

My first and last inclination to make a profit.
When around the age of 16 I was a boring young fart who never really went out or did other things reckless teenagers did. I did, however, smoke. I worked for a local YTS, (remember them), scheme with some other NORMAL young girls and boys who smoked. I, however, due to my hermit like lifestyle always had cash left before the next pittance came from the government. Thus I always had fags and would take great delight in selling them on to my work colleages at a 100% mark up for payment when wages were forthcoming.

Why I'm not running a multi-national conglomerate now, I'll never know.
( girlinthehole, Mon 24 Mar 2008, 17:12, 2 replies)

...
My friends once talked me into visiting a terraced pyramid. That was my first Ziggurat. They were all French and we only went as high as the sixth floor. That was my first six-arrêt.
( mistaspakkaman and the inedible shifting caterpillars, Mon 24 Mar 2008, 17:10, Reply)