Some woman was babysitting me and the neighbour's son, who was the same age as me.
She wouldn't believe that my book about lorries and tractors was really mine, as girls obviously aren't interested in things like that. She thought it must belong to the neighbour's son and it went home with him. Bitch! That was my shitting tractor book, you utter fuck.
( Bob Todd whee, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 16:49, 4 replies)

A reversal
My cousin lived with our granny for a few years before getting a place of his own. He lived in the attic and a load of his old junk is still in there. He hasn't touched any of it for years, so I liberated his PlayStation. "But Todd, those are worth about 50p! You can get them in charity shops!" But this one, I noticed, is one of the very early ones that still had an S-video port built in. I doubt it'll ever be worth anything but it's a nice little piece of gaming history, so I snatched it. If he ever wants it back of course I'll give it to him.

If it's still there next time I go back, I'm taking his Commodore 64.

I'm glad to say my parents have never thrown anything of mine out -- it's just not the done thing to throw away things that aren't yours to throw away.
( Bob Todd whee, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 16:45, 1 reply)

Psycho Girlfriend.
I lost a sentimental T-Shirt due to a jealous bitch back in 1999.

The family hadnt had a holiday in a long time. So everyone saved up long and hard for a really good one.
I was so happy to find out that they'd gotten a deal on a trip to Florida for us. It was the best holiday of my life. And something about that place just seemed strangely like home. Maybe I was a yank in a previous life I dont know.

I brought back a T-Shirt and although it wasnt really worn often. I mean a big oversized T-Shirt saying Florida 1995 in big letters isn't exactly the height of fashion. But hey it was a nice souvenere to keep and say I've been.

A few years later, I meet Psycho Bitch from hell and of course she finds it. And wow she had a major problem with it. Because her family was really poor and she'd never even left the UK nevermind gone somewhere as far as that. And yeah, she had a big chip on her shoulder and a major problem with me having it. She hated anything in my past that she had no part of. And yes I would tell her how much I enjoyed Florida and would like to go back there a lot. So she wanted rid of the T-Shirt.

So once we had a big argument and the way to make it up to her, was to show her how important she was to me. So she wanted me to sacrifice the T-Shirt "For our love". And well, would you believe it: She destroyed that T-Shirt right infront of me.

Quite how I stood there and watched her do that without ripping the scissors off her and stabbing her in the eyes I've no idea. But I was a bit mad about this girl and therefore what made her happy made me happy.

Thinking back now I should never have let her do that. She's with someone else now and told me she's off to Florida herself this year.
Ive never managed to get back there myself since.
(Miggyman, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 16:43, 1 reply)

Sequential Circuits Prophet 5
In school many years ago, I demonstrated an interest in music and keyboards. I used to go into the music room to play with the keyboards during my lunch break.

The teachers noticed this and gave me a Pro5 that had been sitting in the cupboard so I could use it at home (everyone was using casios). Guess they thought it was crap as the casios were digital and were all the rage at the time and the Pro5 only made squelchy noices and weooooeooooeooeeoeo noises so I guess they thought it was crap so they gave it to me.

Move forward a few years later...my dad throws it out thinking its an old broken piece of junk and worth nothing to anyone when cleaning up my room.

I'll still cry thinking about it as they are worth £1000's now...

Well, got a nice Access Virus B now, so that makes similar sounds.
(scotsbloke, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 16:40, 1 reply)

Mothers
Mine threw out a pristine copy of the first Superman annual to be published in colour, and my signed copy of an original 'Alien' script.
"It was yellow!"
"It was 20 years old, woman!"
( SFG, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 16:18, 2 replies)

Star Wars figures
I'm seeing a theme. Having moved to Cornwall as a child, my mother befriended some tramps and rather nonchalantly informed me that she'd given all my well maintained Star Wars collection to the dole-bludging family. X-Wing, Millenium Falcon, At-At, Rancor Monster, Jabba and his warty plinth (with the most salacious Crumb), about 40 figures and a few more odds and sods. Oh, and the out of production 7" of Sex Pistols God Save the Queen amongst a stack of other vinyl that had once belonged to my father. And is now in the possession of the tramps.
(lestergunn ...hot holes o' heat..., Fri 15 Aug 2008, 16:10, Reply)

Star wars - but not in the way you think
I inherited a load of battered star wars figures and vehicles from my brother - they'd been played with a lot by him, and then I got to work on them. I was at the stage where I'd put pretty much anything in my mouth (not in a filthy sex way, I was very young!). I've eaten: the hat Leia wears when disguised as a bounty hunter. Darth's light saber. Darth's cloak. Luke's lightsaber. The emperor's head. The chess board from the Millennium Falcom.

I think I strapped the smuggler's panels from the Millennium Falcon to my cat, trying to make her pretend she was an x-wing. She ran into the garden and they're under the hedge I think.

Despite all this (and yes, they are now completely buggered and utterly worthless), my mother carefully wrapped them, plus a lot of my other toys, in binliners, and put them in the attic; she knows that they won't fetch anything, but she thinks that if/when my brother and I finally have kids, they'll get just as much enjoyment and entertainment out of those battered figures and toys that we did.

My mum's great.

(And she's kept 3 buckets of lego as well, instead of throwing them out. Plus all my childhood books).

Edit: I've not really answered the QOTW at all, have I. Oh well.
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 16:04, 3 replies)

200AD comics
Copies 1-400 complete collection, mint condition including cover mounted gifts.

Given to the bin men after I'd left home to go to University buy my mother. She wanted the boxes I'd carefully stored them all in.

Thanks mum.
(chilling, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 16:00, 1 reply)

Star wars figues
I'm so gutted!!!

I had loads of star wars figures all wrapped up for years and all the vehicles (boxed) and I could have made a mint...


No I didn't I did what any normal kid would do. I opened the boxes, ripped off the cardboard (who needs that!) and took them out in the garden and played with them! Mum and Dad still dig up the odd one and I'll find a mucky Luke Skywalker propped in my room (they're hoarders too).

My only regret? Letting one of the twins on my road send Boba Fett on a secret mission down the drains! (He was my fave SW figure)

I miss him...
(Fuckarma was masturbating into your handbag, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 15:54, 2 replies)

A half hearted apology
Not funny but very mean - I made my boyfriend chuck out all his "junk" that had sat in boxes for two years. To him it was priceless wires and bits of computers that could be used to fix the multitude of computer and wire emergencies that might occur at anytime (we had enough wires to solve all of London's problems). To me it was all wires and shite, and I could (and never will) understand the need for 20 odd of the same wire. I will never forget him and his bin bags nearly sobbing as I stood over him to make sure everything was thrown. I on the other hand got to keep my collection of handbags - they are clearly more useful. I do feel a bit bad but not that bad.

I still get "If only you hadn't made me throw those boxes away..." when he decides to take apart all his computers/game consoles/MP3 players etc. So I am sorry, I clearly do not understand computer geeks and their wires.
(pink_kittyboo was killed by many bunnies on, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 15:21, 13 replies)

The illusionary comfort of memory
I recall remembering Christmasses long past, which once rewarded me with the sort of foggy-edged softness that reminded me of warm jumpers, fairy lights, The Wizard of Oz and the delightful suspense of discovering exactly what was hiding within the gift wrapping, bearing my name on a handwritten tag.

Instead I now see them sensing the barely contained paternal rage waiting for it's moment to burst forth, the glue of fear being applied to ensure the family did exactly as we were told. The cold disinterest from my father, who'd turn on me with unrestrained rage should I dare interrupt him from his peanuts, sweets and the running commentary as he indulged us all the enjoyment of the 1950s musicals on television.

I'm sure I remember the joy of opening many, many presents bearing my name, discovering that inside each one was a model railway locomotive or scale rolling stock. How lucky I was to receive so many gifts like this! I was extremely fortunate.

Yet today, it's tinged with bitterness that unwrapping the boxes was as close as my father allowed me to get to his trains before they were carried up into the loft, never to be seen again. I was merely an excuse for him to justify spending a small fortune on himself.

I fondly remember the way my mother used to pick me up when I grazed my knee and how I'd suddenly feel better. How my tears of shock and pain would be transformed into laughter.

Yet I now recall the sense of despair at my mother, for being unable to stop my father from hitting us when he decided that he was going to give eight year old me a boxing lesson and got carried away, leaving me with several bruises all over my face to explain away at school the next day. My mother's bruises were always hidden from view.

I'm positive I remember the fascination I had with the tropical fish who swam in the fish tank which sat in the stone alcove in our living room. I'd watch them for hours as they swam and swam, utterly oblivious to the world beyond the glass boundaries of their safe little sanctuary. There's something so peaceful and calming about tropical fish.

I know about the unrelenting beating my elder brother received when he was seven years old, because he was not strong enough to bear the weight of the aquarium and the water as my father attempted to retrieve the syphon hose to empty the dirty water. He ended up cowering behind the sink in the downstairs toilet as the blows came raining down until my father's rage was sated. Twenty minutes later it started over again.

Today, my relationship with my mother is strained. We talk frequently, yet I'm frustrated by the fact that she is unwilling to take control of her life and strive to achieve her goals. I wish I could do more to help mitigate the sadness she seems to carry around with her.

I'm furious towards my mother. She's never condemned my father, nor summoned the courage to leave him. It was easier for her to pass the responsibility for Dad's rages onto her children "you know your father tends to discipline people when they do something he doesn't like", than to take control of the situation and get away. I'd even forgive her now if she upped, left and enjoyed her remaining years in peace, but every time she tries, she finds an excuse to go running back.

I have somehow become my father's best friend. He emails me junk every day and seems to value my opinion. I have somehow gained his respect, but I'm not entirely sure how. Perhaps it is the passing of the years?

I'm my father's only friend. I've learned to forgive his violent excesses against me, for carrying around the fallout would still hurt long after he's dead and gone. Sometimes I want to beat some sense into him when he takes his endless frustrations out on my mother, but I know that will only make her situation worse. The only comfort I can take is that I am not the man my father is, nor will I ever be.

These days family gatherings are sparse due to the distances involved. My brother and I remain close, yet things are strained between him and our father. We always make sure mum has a great time when she's with us though. My brother is emigrating in a few weeks. I'm happy for him, yet saddened that the family ties I always hoped for seems to be slowly growing frayed.

My brother hasn't spoken to our father since the last time mum tried to leave him, three years ago. I am deeply saddened that my brother and his family are moving abroad, his children brought my mother a lot of happiness. I'm meeting my brother and mother next weekend for a farewell party, possibly for the very last time we'll all be together.

Of course, I'll make an effort to stay in touch with everyone now that we've grown older and gone our separate ways. I look back at those old fuzzy memories and wonder if I'll ever know a family life in the same way again, or if it's gone forever.

My parents have recently moved house at the behest of my father, far enough away to ensure that my mother cannot see her granddaughters as often as she likes because it was easier for my father to blame my brother and sister-in-law for the fact that mum would return home tearful and unhappy after visiting them. It was easier to do this than to accept his own guilt. I cannot believe how he could actually do this out of sheer spite. I wish everything about my dysfunctional family had turned out so very different, I can't release myself from the nagging thought that maybe if I'd had my eyes open and realised something was wrong so many years earlier it would have?
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Fri 15 Aug 2008, 15:04, 22 replies)

Time and money
I cannot believe how much time I have wasted in my life, all of a sudden i'm middle aged (numerically speaking, I still think im 22) when the fuck did that happen?

Staggering around for 7 years after dropping out of Uni after two terms, bumbling from temporary job to tempoary job, racking up the debts to the point that after taking out a 5 year loan at the age of 22 I have the last repayment in a weeks time, almost 12 years later!

I reckon over the years i have earned roughly £200,000 and what have i got to show for it?

1) an 8 year old Fiat Punto
2) £116.24 in my savings account
3) parents loft full of books

The amount of money I have gambled, pissed up the wall and frittered away is staggering, all those weekends spent lying in bed hungover when I could have been doing stuff? gone in the breeze.

Fuck me, it only seemed like the other week I was looking forward to all the stuff coming up this summer, suddenly its mid august! aarrghh!

Kids, make sure you take the time to enjoy life, instead of siting around in front of the telly go wander around a field, take up a sport, put away a little bit of cash when you can, but trust me, once its gone you aint ever getting it back so savour every second and penny!
(Halfy By light alone, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 15:04, 4 replies)

Old Walking Cane
An elderly neighbor passed, and I was helping clean out his cluttered workshop. In a garbage bin were about a dozen old walking canes. None were of any interest, except one with a carved dog's head for a handle. "You want them?" said the Old Dead Dude's relative. "I've got enough worthless crap already." replied dumbass Me. Away they went to the dump. About a year later I was watching Antiques Roadshow. It was a "Remington Dog Head Cane Gun" that was made in the 1850's. It fired a single .30 cartridge...and one recently sold at auction for $13k USD.
I was nauseated for a solid week. Even now, 5 years later, I just vomited in my mouth.
(Agitato, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 15:02, Reply)

Oh Lordy...
Every single original star wars figure and although not boxed I had the cardboard back of every single one as well.

My mum threw them away saying "you dont play with them now" - I'm 30!
(martin_bell, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 15:00, 3 replies)

My mum is always doing that, so I keep extra close eye on the bin.
I've dug out many things.

But I was helpless to watch at the age of 7, when she gave away my Jungle book video. It was a present from a family friend =(

She wouldn't believe me when I said the tape the lady was looking for was the Mr Motivator exercise tape BLT(Bums Legs and Tummy).

We've still got that damn tape, and she still owes me a copy of the junglebook.

Also, for extra prevention of throwing out of my stuff, I've made my room so messy that she doesn't like going in there. It's not hard, it just involves putting clothes on the floor and leaving papers scattered round. It does help that at one point I took up the carpet, and it looks like I live in a cave.
( Rev. Cleo still alive, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 14:40, Reply)

It wasn't porn. Not really.
Being an only child, I'm not accustomed to having to share my possessions and have always been pretty good at entertaining myself. Unfortunately, sometimes I could take this a little bit too far and prefer to live in my own little world than acknowledge reality. I also really, really resented anyone tidying up for me or going through my stuff. Even now the idea that someone other than me has tidied up my things for me makes my blood boil.

Anyway, I grew out of cuddly toys and Sylvanian Families and My Little Ponies and so on, and at about the age of 14 someone introduced me to the pages of More magazine. For those of you unaware, this was - and probably still is; I've not bought a copy for years - aimed at 18-30 year-olds and focused mainly on the usual fashion and make-up, but the sex section made up roughly half of the magazine - position of the fortnight, extra ways to make sexy time more enjoyable, other people's tips, you get the idea.

Having very few friends and certainly not any I could talk to about growing up with, I got the vast majority of my sex education from it - not so much how you do it, but how you can make it more exciting: until then I never knew there was more than one position or what men looked like naked - yes, my childhood was sheltered. Very sheltered. I never got any sex education off my parents, they just threw a How Your Body Works book at me and expected me to work it out for myself.

This was made all the more interesting by the occasional centrefold image: never completely naked, but often with a horrendously cheesy caption at the bottom. Being fat, spotty, nerdy and with the world's most overprotective mother I was about as far removed from attractive single men as I was from Pluto when it was still a planet, in spite of wanting nothing more than a boyfriend and lots of sex to go with it* and so I could happily lose myself in the pages and hope one day I wouldn't be fat and spotty and nerdy and my mother would calm down some.

Not so. I kept them all in an old bag at the back of my already crammed wardrobe, and came home from school one day to find my newly retired dad saying "oh, and by the way, I tidied your room today."

"What."
"Yes, it was a tip in there so I had a big clearout of all your old stuff."
"(rantings along the lines of Kevin the Teenager probably finishing with "you've ruined my life!!")".

I ran upstairs and, true to his word, my dad had cleaned and polished and tidied and purged every surface, cupboard and shelf in there. My diaries were all neatly stacked in the drawer, he'd thrown out the scrappy little notes you throw to people when you're 15, and had also binned every single magazine in a "I know what you've been reading and it was NOT SUITABLE" kind of way.

I still go mental when anyone tidies my room for me, and can't wait to liberate all my stuff from my parents' house.

* I have calmed down. Honest.
( Maladicta, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 14:40, Reply)

I had a Pong game.
One of those little ones that you plugged into the TV, before they invented real consoles, and more importantly, the ZX Spectrum/Commodore 64. (delete as applicable)

You know, one of these. It was either the Mentor Colour 6 or the Monarch CTX-4 Color, I forget which now- I seem to remember the unit being orange, but then I also remember it having big switches that made really satisfying "clunk" noises when you switched them.

Despite the game being massively behind the times (we were part way through the NES era when I had it) I loved that thing. It was what got me into games, setting me off on that rollercoaster of taking ages to be this good, of commanded armies and conquered worlds, and of jumping in which has made me the person I am today*. It's not just a posession or a cultural artefact, it's part of me.

Which is why it hurt so much when she gave it away to the Scouts to sell at some Bring & Buy.

We haven't spoken since.

* Yes, a socially inept manchild loser ha ha fuck off
(beemoh, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 14:17, Reply)

A collection that still haunts me.
I fell to my knees and cried out to the sky, "Why!? Why hath thou divine fury been taken out on me?". I did not know whether it t'were God, Allah or Optimus Prime I was crying to, only that I was. It may very well have been that I confused a flock of birds that day, causing them to fly into a building or somesuch, I do not know.

Of course, I should start at the beginning. In my youth I had begun collecting finely pressed discs, some of which I had not seen anywhere else in the world. They were beautiful, and I was to enjoy many hours of quiet, solemn contemplation in their company, often spending days or even weeks at a time with them. I cannot quite recall how I started collecting them, but aiding me was a young dutch boy by the name of Van Buiten. He would often run up to me, his eyes gleaming with hope, silent in his reverential awe of me, holding in his grubby mitts another one of these gleaming circles. I rewarded him with a tulip, as this reminded him of his homeland, which he pined for.

My collection soon grew immense, I soon bought two near identical skyscrapers in New York in order to house it. Of course, this didn't go unnoticed in the more glamourous social circles, and I soon found myself the toast of London town. However, my collection soon took a backseat to my drunken debauchery, it was not an uncommon sight to see me licking moon sugar (which grants the user the ability to moonwalk) off of the virginal thighs of the Prime Minister in the House of Commons. Indeed, tales of my sexual prowess were so widespread that a bounty was placed on my glans.

Unfortunatley it was at this point that my mother stepped in. To call her short would be an understatement, however this belies her sharp and furious intellect and the fact that she was a skilled and trained terrorist (back in the days before their name had taken the negative connotations they have today). She had seen what had become of her son, and intended to step in in order to clear the family name.

I was sleeping in my grand, four-poster bed with many beautiful ladies one spring eveningtide when she stormed in, bringing Van Buiten handcuffed and blindfolded with her.
"Son!" she roared, "you shall no longer lead such a hedonistic and decadent lifestyle!"
"Really? I replied, the moon sugar still pounding through my veins, "why should I want to do that?"
"It's not a case of wanting to do it, rather, I am forcing you." she retorted, "You see, if you do not come with me right now young man, I shall behead this dutch boy and then televise it."
I was incredulous. "You wouldn't dare." I said, but my voice faltered. She had done this many times before, often at parties, and once for the queen. She was certainly not someone who would joke about this lightly.
"Really?" she smirked, and with a swift chop, she performed the cranioectomy. Van Buiten was dead, and his dutch blood had stained my impressive marble floor. I was devastated. I moonwalked over to his still twitching corpse. Though the boy was monsterously ugly, I still harboured a soft spot for him and my mother knew this. It was at his point I shouted at the sky, which I described at the start of this story. I soon recovered from my loss however, as I realised I wouldn't have to buy any more stupid tulips.
"Very well, you have made your point," I grimaced, "What would you have me do?"
"You are to take up the study of phrenology at St. Lucifer's college in Oxford posthaste, I have already secured a seat for you in the class. And by the way, I have destroyed the twin towers in which your collection resides, so that it may never lead you down this path again. Some of my men flew some aeroplanes into them this morning. I just hope that this shall teach you a lesson about what is to be done in life." And with that she left.

My collection was gone. Years of work by one small dutch boy was wasted. I would never set my eyes on the gleaming visage of them, sitting perfectly stacked and ordered. I was devastated (again). Once more I screamed at the sky, as described at the beginning of this tale. It was at this point the beautiful ladies left too, and I screamed at the sky once more (again, in identical fashion to that described in the inroduction).

It is now, a few years later, that I can appreciate the wisdom of her words. I was on a dark path to Sodom and Gammorah. I am now a respected phrenologist having been tutored under Dr. Alain Titchmarsh (who is the French twin brother of televisual gardener Alan Titchmarsh). I only regret that I lost my small dutch boy and my collection of pirated PC games.
( Lightguy hail satan, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 14:16, 7 replies)

A litany of loss....
All, and I meant all, the Thundercats comics, in mint condition. Even the special edition 6 parter around issues 30-36 (each one contained 1/6th of a map of the Thundercats planet - I bought 2 of each issue so I could take a map out of one and still have an unspoilt copy). No idea where they went.

Hundreds of Matchbox cars - probably all worthless but I had loads of them, and they all got binned too.

All my Transformers. Again, no idea where they went (I'm starting to think that a couple of years of smoking 'imported tobacco' in the dim and distant past have done me no good at all).

Old computers and consoles aplenty - Amigas and Speccys in particular, but also a cracking little Atari 65XE that I loved and learnt my first programming language on.

About 80 grand when I decided that forking out 30 grand on a flat at 21 would have been a stupid thing to do. 10 years later I could kick myself in the bollocks over this one alone.

The feeling of tingly anticipation just before a really good wank - still present and correct thankfully!

As an aside, I also have Issue 1 of Commodore Format, still with the covermount cassette and in its plastic delivery bag - never opened. I mention it as I've been trying to bin it for years and my bloody packrat mother won't let me!

Length? Suck my arse.
(NoveltyCondomHead Clanks Wams., Fri 15 Aug 2008, 13:51, Reply)

I've posted this before
...but this REALLY hurts.

My Grandfather was an English professor - in the 70s it was his expert testimony that enabled the Sex Pistols to call their LP 'Never Mind The Bollocks' as he attested 'bollocks' was not technically an obscene word.

The band gave him a copy of the LP signed by them all, thanking him for his pivotal assistance.

My lovely old gran gave it to Oxfam in the 80s, unplayed.

AaaaaaAAAAAAAaaaAAAAARRRRGhhHHHHH!!!!


Incidentally during the trial the prosecution tried to belittle my grandfather; 'so, you're an expert on the word 'bollocks' are you?', they asked him (he was wearing his vicar's dog collar for added effect).

'Oh, no', he replied, 'I can tell you all about 'fuck' and 'shit' too'.
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 13:50, 5 replies)

Valuable? Fuck yeah.
Over the years, we have gotten rid of all sorts of shite, but the ones that stick in my mind are of course, the original G1 Transformers.
Oh, and the full collection of 12"s from Stiff Records, now worth well over £1mil.
Yeah.
*kicks heels*
(fantomex, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 13:45, Reply)

Atari charity my arse
Young, hopelessly naieve, Squirrel went home with the news that her formgroup were collecting things to put in a Christmas box for a family that might not be particularly affluent...Sister, brother and Squirrel come to the decision that we could give away our old Atari 2600 Woody, still in original box with 2 paddles, 2 joysticks and about 8 games - we don't need it we have an Amstrad 6128!

Silly, silly squirrel and squirrel siblings.

The family also got a telly from someone else in my form group and it's not like any of us were posh, at a good school, or particularly loaded for that matter.

I blame Mum for letting us do it.

Oh, and she threw out my favourite red jumper, it may have been more hole than wool, but it was my favourite and it went with the look at the time.

I have an atari t-shirt (a la profile) in homage that is so old that it's fading and the letters are peeling off.
( 99redbuffoons Reversed the polarity of the neutron flow at, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 13:36, Reply)

It's in the sand...
Remember that advert for something or other when a brat has buried something important on the beach, cue exasperated dad.

It was like that but much, much worse.

A "friend" of mine, the kind you make when fate or the NCT thrust your parents at other parents and the kids are supposed to become lifelong friends, and I went to west wittering for a day trip with our families, and I was allowed to take one toy with me to play with, otherwise I'd lose some (Oh the irony), so I obviously chose my very best, Optimus Prime, only the cab bit though because the plastic trailer was shit.

Anyway, after a series of tempestuous spats and makings up, we were packing up to go and I found us one transformer short.

Tears of fury welled in my eyes as I realised said "friend" was the last to have him, who after the kind of interrogation only a mother can subject a boy too admitted he'd buried Optimus after one of our fights.

I think it was the defining moment in my life when I decided to not get too attached to "stuff", ever since then it has been I with the cavalier attitude to objects, rendering me, at least in reference to this qotw, a cunt.
(babydad, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 13:25, Reply)

Granny Rouse's Patchwork Blanket
was thrown away when it had been used as a hygiene wipe by so many overnight lodgers in Grandson Rouse's living room, you could hold it by the corners and it would stand out straight.

Grandson Rouse was never told.
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 13:21, Reply)

A very near one...
Stephen5555's story reminded me of this. Aaaages ago (well, about four years ago) I was moving house, and had a lot of stuff boxed up. On the phone to my Mum one evening, she complained that she had nothing to play her tapes on. Since I had just picked up some new stereo equipment I thought, "I know, I'll stick that box of stereo equipment I've just replaced in the car, take it round to Mum's, and sort it out for her". So off went some Gale speakers, a Cambridge Audio amp (not desperately expensive, but quite good), a semi-decent tuner and a nice Akai cassette deck (with recently replaced belts, pinch roller and heads) and a CD player, up to Mum's, set up in the living room, hooked up to the telly so she could play tapes, listen to the radio, play CDs, and watch films on telly with the sound through the decent speakers.

Forwards about a year, and I'm on the phone to Mum. "Oh," she says, "I need you to sort out my new stereo when you come up!"
"Okay, what new stereo is this?"
"Well all that old stuff was too big so I'm taking it down to $charity_shop, I bought a nice little one instead".
"Uhm, Mum? You know how it's rude to mention how much something cost when you give it to someone? Well, you know that's about 500 quid's worth of stereo equipment you've got there...?"
So, that came right back out of the car.
(gordonjcp, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 13:12, Reply)

my Nintendogs!
I left my Nintendo DS in the seat pocket of a plane from Invercargill to Christchurch.

I was more upset at the loss of my dogs, Nathan Scott Phillips the Boxer, Glenn the shetland sheepdog, and Manja the chihuahua.

Could be worse. Could have been Pokemon.
(spent.fish flipping and gasping, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 13:12, 2 replies)

it's gone!
My mum gave away my HUGE collection of 'Look-In' magazines when I was wee spikey. I was not amused.

My dad sold my Acorn Electron and spent the money on beer! I wanted to keep so I could play Karate Champions and Arcadians even though I had a spanky new Amstrad 6128.

I used have loads of mini-autobots but they all buggered off somewhere. I last saw Seaspray and Cliffjumper in Alexs bedroom so I suspect my mum gave them to him coz he was younger than me. Cliffjumper was in 2 pieces.

Prince Adam lost his velvet waist coat but I think that was my fault. I think I swapped it for the chest plate that the purple, red headed evil robot he-man figure wore.

I lost a pet toad once. He lived in the greenhouse. I also lost tank loads of tadpoles. Dad took them to the stream at the bottom of the road.

I lost my skateboard when I was 27. I lent to the lad up the road while I buggered off to Oz for a year. While in Oz I lent my housemate my spanky new BLIND deck (complete). He fell asleep on the bus and someone robbed it. I got back to the UK and the young lad who borrowed my board had grown up a fair bit and turned into a bit of rocker/skater. I didn't have the heart to ask for my board back (Shuvit deluxe, bullet wheels, Kebab trucks). I'm now 30 and sometimes think of asking if I can 'borrow' it.

I wnder what happened to my grifter? I had another bike that was a bit like a grifter but was gold. I suspect that paid for dads beer as well.

My mum made me clear out my comic chest when I about 12. I lost a hell of a lot of Eagle comics (although I still have the 1st 6 monthly special editions - the 1st was Doomlord, 2nd was Manx the cyborg, 3rd was DeathWish). I changed my mind and went to get them back. Mum had already given them away to some kid up the road who came to visit his grandparents.

What happened to all those film posters that I used to collect from the video shop? They used to cost me 20p a time and had loads of the buggers!!! I bet dad binned them. I bet he binned my autographed Korn poster as well coz that went missing when I left home. I had a signed set list from a levellers gig and one from a NMA gig as well and reckon they went the same way.

Mum once found an 8th of weed and binned it. She also washed a gram of speed and left the bag on the mantlepiece in a 'I know what you've been up to and I'm letting you know that I know' kinda way.

I lost my heart the day was son was born. It contained all the love in the world and now its his. I don't want that back though - he can keep that but is under instruction to share it with his mum. He's 1 in a few weeks and is ace.
( SpikeyPickle wishes he was mabazaritchie, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 13:06, 3 replies)

A happy throw away ?
My Grandad was the captain of West Bromwich Albion in 1954 when they won the FA Cup, and after they won, he picked up the ball and kept it.

It was gifted to my family, and was the most 'sorry state of a football' you have ever seen in your life..punctured with bits hanging off it.

I am not proud to say..it sat, accumulating dust in the bottom of my parents wardrobe for over 50 years, and almost got thrown away on several occasions.

Bizarrely, a voice inside my head told me to call West Brom and ask if they would like to display it. I got a call back from the vice Chairman who personally came to take a look and verify it was 'the ball' from the match (back then, they only had 1 ball per game, unlike the 30 or so they have per match these days - so it made it extra special).

To cut a long story short, after a months negotiations, West Brom purchased that manky old lump of leather for £21,000
(TheRiddler Hmmmmm... I concur., Fri 15 Aug 2008, 13:00, 1 reply)

someone help me
i can't throw stuff away. birthday cards, even some of the envelopes, newspaper cuttings, shoe boxes, those 'gratis point' inserts you used to get with B&H fags, champagne bottles, champagne bottle corks, single socks, empty CD cases, my knightrider annual and remote control car, CDs/DVDs given away with magazines (including 'girls on trampolines'), deck of 46 playing cards, empty lighters, 2 boxes of OEM power adaptors with no reference to the device they power, 2 broken mini disc players, SCSI film scanner, an old laptop running windows 1066, god knows how many videos, ex-boyfriends clothes...

i could go on.

it's all sitting in boxes in my parents' cellar. will the lazy bastards get rid of all this crap? will they fuck.
(threadkiller, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 12:58, Reply)