It was all mummy and daddys fault
At the age of 15, the biggest geek in our school (he was 2 years above my peers and I), "Ben" - for that was his name etc... made the big mistake of telling one of his geeklings (his only "friends" were in the same year as me) - that his parents were going way for the weekend and he had the house to himself.
Well, one if the geeklings decided he'd try to promote himself in the coolness division by inviting loads of people to a party at Ben's house... a party that Ben didn't know about.
To cut a very well girthed story short, a load of us turned up (much to the unexpecting hosts horror) and our behaviour worsened as we first drank what we'd bought with us, followed by what was in the drinks cabinet.
Things may not have progressed to the levels they did if we hadn't found the note left in the kitchen for poor Ben signed... "love from mummy, -- daddy and i will miss you so much this weekend xxx"
By now our host was hiding behind the couch in his lounge quietly sobbing, so by the time it was discovered that his bedroom walls were covered in "fame" (the cheesy TV series) posters, he was considered to be so gay he was fair game.
It all got out of hand really and some people who I had previously considered to be pretty sensible ended up doing some mad shit. All the eggs were taken from the fridge and the fame posters were the first targets, followed by the beds and bedroom ceilings (the beds were done by stealth, carefully unmade, egg smashed in the middle, then remade).
Apart from chucking an egg at a poster of that curly haired keyboard-playing twat from fame, the only bad thing I did was bury lots of little scoops of butter in the huge tub of vanilla ice-cream they had in the freezer (ffs - they were exactly the same colour, how could I not?).
It was all pretty evil stuff really but at 17 the guy should've had more balls and ran off to his neighbour earlier, cos the big rugby-player type bloke from over the road turfed all of us 15 year olds out quick-sharp, albeit a bit late, the place was a mess by then.
Although there was no structural damage done and no thefts (apart from the alcohol), Ben's poor family must have been suffering the fallout of that night for a while, what with the frozen fish-bits that were hidden about the place and suchlike.
By far the funniest moment of the evening was my mate Sime, after rummaging in the cupboard under the sink he emerged with a huge box of washing-powder and a big bottle of washing up liquid, then with a completely straight face he stood in the middle of the bomb-site of a kitchen and while doing a series of 360 degree spins scattering shed-loads of persil powder and squirting half a bottle of fairy-liquid as he rotated, he declared at the top of his voice "We've gotta clean this place up!" It was priceless.
If you're a b3tan Ben and you read this, sorry about the ice cream.
( Twizla ...a shrew living on the edge of a bog, extinct on, Sat 15 Apr 2006, 7:49, Reply)