Spoilt Brats
Mr Newton sighs, "ever known anyone so spoilt you would love to strangle? I lived with a Paris Hilton-a-like who complained about everything, stomped her feet and whinged till she got her way. There was a happy ending though: she had to drop out of uni due to becoming pregnant after a one night stand..."
Who's the spoiltest person you've met? Has karma come to bite them yet? Or did you in fact end up strangling them? Uncle B3ta (and the serious crimes squad) wants to know.
( , Thu 9 Oct 2008, 14:11)
Mr Newton sighs, "ever known anyone so spoilt you would love to strangle? I lived with a Paris Hilton-a-like who complained about everything, stomped her feet and whinged till she got her way. There was a happy ending though: she had to drop out of uni due to becoming pregnant after a one night stand..."
Who's the spoiltest person you've met? Has karma come to bite them yet? Or did you in fact end up strangling them? Uncle B3ta (and the serious crimes squad) wants to know.
( , Thu 9 Oct 2008, 14:11)
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A turn up
I went on a foreign holiday to Africa and while there, I met another young English lad called James. We got along like a forest fire, he was just like me (love of beer, tall tales and more beer).
They say when women meet, perhaps at a bus stop, that within three minutes they know everything about each other: their sister's names, where their shoes are from, where they work...but men....well I spent a week with James and despite sharing the holiday of a lifetime, never really found out much about him, other than we were both 19.
When we met up weeks after we returned from Africa, he gave me his address. It was a mooring on the Thames. Where he lived on his own, on a half a million quid's worth of house boat in Chelsea.
When I popped round, I couldn't believe it. He had a Mercedes sports convertible parked up by the boat. His old man was in that Sunday Times rich list.
And you know what, he is the nicest bloody young man I have ever encountered in my life. I started to think back to the sharing of bills in Africa, him giving hairbands and pencils out to kids (its wrong to give money, it fucks up the economy- imagine little Kwanga, 5, returning home with her parents yearly income in her hand). I thought about his normal Adidas shoes.
You may have met him yourself. And you'd never have guessed what his old man, or him, have in the bank.
Which makes me smile.
(Because I'd be an utter twat if I won the lottery. Think Lotto Lout with imagination.)
( , Fri 10 Oct 2008, 10:58, 2 replies)
I went on a foreign holiday to Africa and while there, I met another young English lad called James. We got along like a forest fire, he was just like me (love of beer, tall tales and more beer).
They say when women meet, perhaps at a bus stop, that within three minutes they know everything about each other: their sister's names, where their shoes are from, where they work...but men....well I spent a week with James and despite sharing the holiday of a lifetime, never really found out much about him, other than we were both 19.
When we met up weeks after we returned from Africa, he gave me his address. It was a mooring on the Thames. Where he lived on his own, on a half a million quid's worth of house boat in Chelsea.
When I popped round, I couldn't believe it. He had a Mercedes sports convertible parked up by the boat. His old man was in that Sunday Times rich list.
And you know what, he is the nicest bloody young man I have ever encountered in my life. I started to think back to the sharing of bills in Africa, him giving hairbands and pencils out to kids (its wrong to give money, it fucks up the economy- imagine little Kwanga, 5, returning home with her parents yearly income in her hand). I thought about his normal Adidas shoes.
You may have met him yourself. And you'd never have guessed what his old man, or him, have in the bank.
Which makes me smile.
(Because I'd be an utter twat if I won the lottery. Think Lotto Lout with imagination.)
( , Fri 10 Oct 2008, 10:58, 2 replies)
.
I met Sir Clive Sinclair's son once. I just banged on drunkenly about my Sinclair Spectrum for about an hour until he looked like he wanted to kill himself.
( , Fri 10 Oct 2008, 11:47, closed)
I met Sir Clive Sinclair's son once. I just banged on drunkenly about my Sinclair Spectrum for about an hour until he looked like he wanted to kill himself.
( , Fri 10 Oct 2008, 11:47, closed)
That loto lout chap...
he's had so much fun, it's a secret well hidden that I get quite a joyous tickle inside when I hear about the 'locals' complaining about him...
I too think I would descend into his character traits, as I know what I was like as a child on farms with motobikes, guns and old bangers...
Don't think I would buy all the jewelery he has though - but what am I to know about investments, I'd probably put it all into iceland, or whereevers recently gone bust...
( , Fri 10 Oct 2008, 13:16, closed)
he's had so much fun, it's a secret well hidden that I get quite a joyous tickle inside when I hear about the 'locals' complaining about him...
I too think I would descend into his character traits, as I know what I was like as a child on farms with motobikes, guns and old bangers...
Don't think I would buy all the jewelery he has though - but what am I to know about investments, I'd probably put it all into iceland, or whereevers recently gone bust...
( , Fri 10 Oct 2008, 13:16, closed)
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