Sheffield bums
Right, this maybe pearoast material from a previous QOTW I answered, but who cares

Anyway, this particular tramp story occurred outside the big Cole Brothers (or John Lewis as it is today) opposite the City Hall a few years back.

It was a typical sunny saturday afternoon, and me and a bunch of friends were aimlessly wandering through town, we was walking past the City Hall/Cole brothers and then suddenly...

'Excuse me mate...ya got the time?' came a gruff voice

It was said tramp, along with his partner in crime, trampette.

'nah, sorry mate...' says I 'but there is a big clock up there, why don't you just look at that?'

(anyone from Sheffield would know that the clock tower by the Peace Gardens is clearly visable from that point)

Then the tramp got really irate for some reason, probably because he was fuelled by pikey cider and came out with:

'ARRGGHHH!! SHUT THE FUCK UP YA CHEEKY BASTARD! RAH RAH RAH (and other profanities)'

he stands up and storms towards us, but collapses after about 3 steps, he picks himself up and staggers back to his bench to join trampette.

We were about to walk off, then we heard:

'AND YOU CAN SHURRUP N ALL YA STUPID BITCH!!'

we turn round to find tramp beating seven shades of shit out of trampette, leaving her lying in a pool of blood and saliva.

bit uncalled for in my opinion, considering she hardly said a word.
(Lord Chode, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 11:50, 2 replies)

A bizarre one
As unlikely as this sounds it really happened.

I was standing behind a tramp on the underground a while ago, on the escalator - he was a traditional, "fun" type tramp, but he had matted ginger hair down to his waist. In front of him were two japanese teenagers. They had matching yellow rucksacks on so they must have been on some kind of school trip.

The tramp started going "arr soor! aaaar soooor I'm Bruce Lee!" and karate chopping the air.

I was cringing at this basic level of slightly racist humour, until one of the boys turned around, waggled his fingers at him and said "arr soooor! I'm Mick Hucknall".
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 11:41, 2 replies)

"I curse you!!!"
Last year on a stag do in Dublin on the day we were leaving, we were walking over the Millenium Bridge when a tramp spoke to one of our party, John:

Tramp: "Have you got any spare change?"
John: "No, sorry"
Tramp: "None at all?" *holding out paper cup*
John: "I've only got enough for my breakfast"
Tramp: "I curse you!!! You have been cursed by me! I curse you!"
John: "Ok..?."

Fast forward a couple of hours and where crossing from Dublin to Holyhead on a seacat type vessel and it's really quite choppy. Nothing too unusaul there, but a couple of the seasick feeling in our group start to blame John on account of the tramp cursing him.

Back on dry land we caught our train out from Holyhead and as we pull into Bodorgan "station" the train comes to a halt... and doesn't move again for 3 hours!
It didn't take long for us to realise the cause of the breakdown - the curse the tramp put on John.

Now this curse had further consequences, one was that it seemed to cause another one of my mates Wayne to have excess wind (nothing to do with all the Guinness I'm sure). So we're stuck on a train for (an extra) 3 hours, the whole time Wayne (it's always a Wayne) is expelling noxious gasses into the confined environment.
One 'lady' on the train takes objection to Wayne lacing the air with the warning signs of what must be an imminent bowel movement:

Lady: "You make me sick you fucking animal"
Wayne: *rabbit in headlights*
Lady: "You fucking neanderthal. There are fucking kids on this fucking train don't you fucking realise!?!"
Wayne: "Calm down"
Lady: "You fucking disgusting pig. Just stop fucking farting, we're all stuck here and we have to breathe in your stinking fucking shit. And there's fucking kids on this fucking train."

Though I agreed with most of her arguements, I'm in no doubt that the "fucking kids on the fucking train" learn't a new fucking word that day.

So beware, a tramps curse is powerful enough to cross the sea and disable a train
(Bad_Dogg, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 11:33, 3 replies)

Mile End crying bum
Outside Budgens (I see a pattern emerging here) there used to be the infamous "Mile End Crying Bum". He looked pretty young, although it was hard to tell under all those levels of grime - maybe he'd been kicked out of my uni and been driven to snivelling on the streets.

He'd kneel by the doors until Budgens closed - you'd never see him at night on your way to the tube station - and cry. Cry, wail, shriek, snivel etc but never say a word; he would just extend his grubby hand in your general direction. As naive Freshers new in London, people would often take pity on him and drop him some change - until you saw him striding purposefully down Mile End, no crying, no limping, and obviously with money. Crafty bugger. There used to be a Facebook group - "I'll give you something to cry about, Mile End Crying Bum" - but I can't find it.

Also, there used to be another tramp who used to lurk ominously in the arched doors on the weird church near Budgens. I don't think he and Mile End Crying Bum got on very well. However, on the plus side, he looked like Seasick Steve.
(meowmix is a voodoo child, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 11:16, Reply)

My male mate loves fucking male tramps
He swears blind he's not gay.

Though I'd say he's definately a hobosexual.
( SpankyHanky, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 11:12, 3 replies)

Remember, all tramps are someones child/brother/sister...
My little sister took a somewhat unorthodox route into adult life and ended up with a social circle that contained people that most wouldn't piss on if they were on fire. Despite my family's most extreme efforts*, she ended up on the streets taking god knows what. We think she was raped at least once, probably more. Pretty much the kind of place you don't expect many to come back from. My parents spent years just waiting for the call from the police/hospital to tell us she'd been found dead.

Thankfully, she hit rock bottom before she actually ended up dead and somehow found the strength to turn her life around quite monumentally. With support and some pretty amazing help from local services, she is now back to being the fun and happy person she was before. Furthermore, she has more respect for everything and everyone around her than anyone else I have ever known.

I know this is supposed to be a comedy QOTW, but before you post your hilarious story about how you pissed on a homeless guy or kicked a busker in the face, perhaps take a second to think that these people are quite often in horrific places in their lives; rarely through choice and sometimes treading a fine line between life and death. Being a twat to them is not only incredibly unnecessary but might actually send them over the edge. 50p/not being an arse isn't really much to ask of any decent human.

*anyone who just assumes these things could never happen in their family or that they would never let something like this happen to someone they know can go forth and populate. You have no idea
( Devon Dan without geometry, there would be no point, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 10:51, 19 replies)

Crazy Leaf Guy
bit of a repost from Eccentrics...

I don't know if this mad old bastard is still there, but I used to see him every day that I lived in Cardiff, either in the Flora (pub) or nearby on Cathays Terrace.
This chap could either be found collecting glasses (unpaid and unstoppable) in the Flora, or armed with his broom, a dustpan and a bin on the street ridding his section of the world of those most pesky of critters, the fallen leaf!

He would be there literally every day, sweeping and scooping the leaves that had fallen or blown onto the road and pavement, always with a 3 litre bottle of cider perched on the wall nearby.
I'd heard tales of him having a go at some passers by, and even had to protect a young lady of my acquaintance from his advances on one occasion.
I remember reading an article in FHM some time ago describing a man on the same street sticking his head and torso through the window of some students' house and loudly berating them for the mess it was in.

I'm certain it was the same guy.

Crazy Leaf Guy - you always made that section of the walk to uni more interesting. I salute you.

Any Cardiff-based b3tans know if he is still there?
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 10:45, 2 replies)

Repost but quite funny
I was about 15 and walking up Guildford high street with my pals. Just past Church Street and the local tramp jumped out from behind a bush, swigging from a can of Tennants Extra. Usually this particulr tramp performed shows outside Burger King with little puppets on the end of his gnarly toes, but on this occassion he was playing a harmonica.

He stood in front of us and did a little dance; his cock was dangling cheerfully from his string-tied trousers as he leapt about.

After a minute or two we gave him some change for his well earned performance. He said "listen lads, some advice - get a trade. I know this looks like a glamarous life, but it has its downsides".
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 10:43, 4 replies)

Decadent tramp
Staggering down the Strand after a birthday meal with some mates, I was carrying a bottle of Champagne and a big Cuban cigar that one of them had bought me. I was feeling a little icky after too much drinking, so couldn’t stomach the thought of either. There was a small group of homeless people crowded around the alleyway next to McDonalds so I gave the nearest one the fizzy grape juice and turd stick. Very amusing to look back to see him puffing away and firing the cork into the street. Amusingly he still seemed to be asking people for change which an unsurprising lack of success.
(Alphabet Soap boshboshboshbosh, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 10:33, Reply)

Manchester
Same place, same situation, two wildly different results

Myself and my girlfriend getting cash out from the ATM outside the Spar in the Northern Quarter.

1) Really friendly bloke smiles and goes, "have you got a spare £10,000 please mate?" Not the most original line ever, but like with jokes it's how you tell 'em. He now regularly gets all my spare change.

2) 40-ish guy standing about 18 inches from the cashpoint (easily close enough to smell the piss and cider) and says to me, "You got 80p?" I say no, get my cash and then wait for my better half to get hers. He goes "You got 80p" to her and he's being fairly aggressive. She concentrates on the cashpoint and he starts looking over her shoulder so I have move in between them, he asks his question again and again she obviously and purposefully avoids eye contact etc. She gets her cash and we're about to walk away when he goes, "Are you going to give me that 80p or what?" I tell him, "Look, you've asked four times now, clearly we're not going to give you any money - could you leave us alone eh?", get shouted back at, "I was asking her not you - now am I getting my 80p".

I think it's best to just walk away briskly at this point rather than get into any shit, 200 yards away there's already a pint on the table with my name on it. The fucker follows us ranting about his 80p and I finally snap, "Do you ever stop to wonder why you're begging? Can't have been your fucking personality that got you here could it?" I'm not normally like that but for fuck's sake...

Just goes to show that there are good & bad in all walks of life..
(hating swallows is 20 yards from the nearest Jaffa cake, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 10:33, Reply)

Not the funniest & quite long.
I’ve been volunteering for a homelessness charity in the UK for the last 8 years. This post isn’t a boast about that (I only volunteered in the first place to try & impress a woman I was playing hide the bratwurst with), but it is now something I could never see myself not doing – it’s a fucking brilliant experience.

The charity runs temporary centres for the homeless for eight days over Christmas (many of the hostels in London close over this period). The charity itself was founded as a result of a few people (I think 12 or so) setting up temporary shelter in a church (the charity is not a religious organisation) in response to the 60’s film ‘Cathy come home’. These 12 individuals expected about 30 or so homeless people to visit the shelter. Approximately 400 homeless people turned up. We now get approx around 2000 visitors (we call them guests in an attempt to give them at least some dignity) each year – of whom around 500 are rough sleepers with the remaining being either sofa surfers (temporarily staying with friends) or living in hostels.

I began as a general volunteer (there are several thousand volunteers across 7-8 centres that the charity operate) and for the last 4 years have been one of the team that manages one of the centres. We have operated centres in all sorts of buildings from the Dome (O2), London Arena (now demolished), empty office blocks, schools and colleges. We receive gifts in kind (food, clothing etc) from individuals and large companies worth a couple of million quid each year. Few of these mention it publicly and the level of philanthropy is humbling.

The mix of people who become homeless is unbelievably diverse, including graduates, professionals and about a third have served in the armed services in the past (these typically end up homeless from not being able to adjust to civilian life).

Anyone can become homeless. There is an estimate that before the recession the average adult in the UK was financially about 6 weeks away from homelessness if they lost their job. Fuck knows how much that figure has reduced since the start of the recession. A lot of people end up homeless as a result of a relationship break-up.

Yes of course there are pissheads & druggies and a lot have mental health issues. A lot of these ended up like this as a result of being homeless (remember the snow we had in February – you’d want to get off your head if you had to sleep out in that).

Typically the different problems the homeless suffer are made up of thirds. This means a third are ex-services, a third have substance dependency problems, a third have mental health issues, a third have suffered physical or sexual abuse, etc, but we see a lot of people with what we call multiple thirds – e.g. have mental health issues and are ex-services or have experienced abuse and have dependency issues. We have also seen an increase in homelessness since eastern European countries joined the EU – this is common – every rise in immigration comes with a rise in homelessness - fuck me can these boys drink.

The volunteers are fucking amazing. Some of my best friends are other volunteers who I’ve had hilarious nights on the piss with, brilliant holidays etc. I’ve also got a few shags out of it as well (volunteers not guests!). The volunteers come from a very diverse background – from leftie students to people in the 70’s.

I have met ‘A list’ celebrities who volunteer anonymously every year, quietly and with no publicity. We also have former homeless people who the charity has helped get sorted who come back & volunteer. The professions of the volunteers are so diverse the charity are able to operate dental, podiatry & general medical services, provide legal advise, teach basic skills (literacy etc) as well as dependency counsellors, cooks, sewers (to alter clothing), plumbers, carpenters, etc to make the buildings we get habitable.

The relationships the charity has with other organisations and councils means about 200 homeless people are re-homed over the 8 day period we are open – some go to hostels (first step to getting off the streets), some require further medical attention (long term residency due to mental health issues) and some are re-housed by councils.

I have on occasion taken rough sleepers to their new homes which is an incredibly emotional experience (and I am one of the most cynical & non-emotional cunts you would ever meet) – witnessing the sheer joy for them of getting off the streets & being able to get themselves sorted (jobs, qualifications etc) is extremely humbling.

Of course there are rough sleepers who don’t want a roof & four walls but they get the same access to services if they wish and we treat everyone equally (for example volunteers and guests eat together whenever possible) to break down barriers – the isolation of homelessness is one of the worst aspects and definitely contributes to the mental health issues that many will experience.

Yes we also get the occasional cunt who wants to spoil it for everyone else – fighting/ stealing etc. but as more experienced volunteers who run the centres we are trained by the charity on how to restrain these wankers & we ban them quickly (with the “help” of the rozzers where required). However these incidents are rare (probably 5 at each of the 7 centres across the week – 35 out of 2000 is a pretty good rate. Our first concern is the safety of guests and volunteers. Only one of the centres allows alcohol. Weapons & drugs are banned from all. One of the centres is women only & this is operated in anonymous location so these guests can get away from pimps, abusive partners etc.

When I turned up at my first shift in 2000 I didn’t have a clue what to expect, was slightly apprehensive and I only turned up to impress a sexy nurse I was seeing at the time. In fact the only good thing I got from my relationship with her was my introduction to volunteering and the friendships and fucking amazing (often hilarious) experiences I have had.

So if you’re based in London & don’t like the whole family Christmas thing you can volunteer at www.crisis.org.uk or gaz me for further details.

I have experienced some extremely funny times when volunteering but will post these separately.

And no I don’t read the fucking Guardian before you ask.
(lkjshaglkasjdhglkhjz lkcvl; g;aodh;owih, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 10:08, 17 replies)

I am not a dominatrix sugar momma (or homeless).
When I was 15 my mom and I went out to get sushi. We were waiting for a table, so she decided to wait inside and I decided to wait outside (it was crowded and I wanted to hang out with mom as little as possible). I was dressed pretty gothy at the time, but was clean and well groomed. An overweight homeless man in his thirties wearing nothing but black leather (lace up pants, buckle boots, zippered jacket, stupid hat) sat next to me and started talking about how he is a bisexual submissive and into pain and all sorts of other horrible things and he is looking for a sugar momma dominatrix with a nice house to take care of him, and am I interested? I politely declined just as a businessman approached, commented on what a cute couple we are, and asked us if he can buy us some McDonalds. I reply, "That's sweet, but I'm waiting for sushi." The business man gave me a horrible look, probably assuming I am some sort of homeless snob. At that point I decided to wait inside.
(cnidaria0 Cnidaria, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 10:03, 1 reply)

Horace White, North Finchley, London
Well known fat, friendly, black guy, stinks of shite, most usually seen outside of McDonalds, North Finchley High Road. Used to draw child-like crayon pictures that he liked to hand out to passers-by, usually accompanied by a very loud 'THE BEST OF LUCK TO YOU!'. Be warned, do not ever call him Stanley, he goes mucking fental.

Is he still there?

www.google.co.uk/search?hl=en&client=firefox-a&rls=com.ubuntu%3Aen-GB%3Aunofficial&hs=Qxe&q=horace+north+finchley&btnG=Search&meta=
(RedMeat, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 10:02, 3 replies)

Chicago
If he was a tramp, he was a fairly well-dressed one. I visited the wonderful city of Chicago a few months ago and found a genuine jazz/blues club to take in some of the city flavour. I stepped outside for a cigarette and was a approached by this fellow who asked, very politely, if he could have a cigarette. When he found out I was English he asked how I was enjoying the city and so on. I knew that such chit-chat was leading up to being asked for change.
After a bit of banter and cementing of Anglo-American relations he said "Look buddy, I ain't gonna lie to you. I really need a shot of Jack Daniels. Can you spare some change?", to which I gave him a few dollars I happened to have in my pocket.
Okay, so he was probably saving up for crack or something but I found him to be a nice guy, completely non-threatening and I couldn't argue with his original approach to begging. And it made a great anecdote. My "so there I was in the middle of Paris at midnight looking for somewhere to buy cigarettes" one is getting a bit worn now...
(Ghostlight, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 9:54, 3 replies)

Tramps are often great fun
I used to know, well i say know... read accost, a lovely tramp in Reading town centre (if you're unfortunate enough to live there he's the one with the beat up guitar). On several occasions, me and my buddies would spend more time dancing about to his drunken warblings than we would in one of Readings marvelous bars*. Best of all he played for fags instead of monies!


I also got chatting to another lovely tramp in Oxford over a fag, he was telling me how he wanted some money so him and his girlfriend (really?) could sleep at the backpackers hostel near the station. Apparently she likes it there; "Coz thats where all the murderers and paedo's go... she likes that kind of thing"... Ohhh, Kaaay I'll just back away from you now.

Who doesn't love a good tramp eh?

* May not be marvelous
(Is this a good idea? ... Yes this is definitely a good idea, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 9:51, Reply)

A serial killer ruined my relationship!
My ex-boyfriend has a drug addicted tramp for a dad. Said tramp got murdered by a serial killer who was killing a bunch of homeless people in the area. Boyfriend broke up with me because he couldn't handle grieving and a relationship at the same time, but initially told me it was because I was boring.
(cnidaria0 Cnidaria, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 9:48, Reply)

Apologies to Coolio and Stevie Wonder...
(See www.b3ta.com/questions/tramps/post470801 for the inspiration)

As I sit in a doorway on a street in my town
I take a look at my pants
And realise they're filthy and brown
With a dog on a string and a 3 day-old bagel
Even my momma thinks that I'm long-term AWOL
You know I used to be a suit in the city smoke
Until I copied in my boss on that e-mail joke
Quicker than I could type "licked out"
He had my kicked out
And now I am homeless begging peeps for a toke.
My missus hit the roof when she heard I was fired,
And kicked me out on the street, I can't sleep - I'm tired.
My joke only got a cheap laugh now I'm hoping for a "street bath",
On my knees under a drainpipe
With a Burger King freshwipe.

Pissed, skint, kicked out by my wife
I'm heading for a trampy afterlife
Pissed, skint, kicked out by my wife
I'm heading for a trampy afterlife

Look at the situation - I'm on my arse,
I can't live a trampy life, I was raised middle-class.
But I gotta be down with the hobos,
Nightly television watching in Dixons windows.
I used to spend evenings shovelling coke in my face
Now there's a whole different meaning to the daily rat race.
In my cardboard house, chasing my pet mouse
Putting cheese in my pants to help me get aroused.
Starvation could happen soon - any day,
I'm eating 6 month-old dog food, what can I say?
I'm twenty-three now, will I live to see twenty-four,
The way things is going I don't know.

Tell me why are they
So blasé
About the tramps they see
Every day?
Pissed, skint, kicked out by my wife
I'm heading for a trampy afterlife.
Pissed, skint, kicked out by my wife
I'm heading for a trampy afterlife.

Fast food in the garbage, garbage in the fast food,
I'm scrambling through the rubbish, but you don't have to be so rude,
Everybody's seeing, but half of them ain't looking
I just need one pound fifty
To get some decent cooking.
They say to "get a job"
But nobody's here recruiting.
If they won't try to help, do they have to stick the boot in?
I guess they can't,
I guess they won't,
I guess I'm fucked,
That's why I know my life is out of luck, fool!

Pissed, skint, kicked out by my wife
I'm heading for a trampy afterlife.
Pissed, skint, kicked out by my wife
I'm heading for a trampy afterlife.
( TheMagicDwarf is back like ballroom dancing, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 9:48, 2 replies)

Flying sandwich of death
Was asked for change standing outside a newsagent.
Politely told her no, sorry, and was met with the usual barrage of insults and other such brown-mouthed potty talk.

After the usual belittling she made a threat to "stuff that sandwich up my nose" my reply was "you'll do no such thing, this is MY sandwich"
She grabbed the sarnie, and threw it. Somehow, I caught the thing and threw it back, leaving one already-filthy little dirtbag covered in egg-mayo, and trundling away, laughably in the direction of the amused police officers.
(Virulent, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 9:34, Reply)

A deserved rp from yesteryear
Was working in a computer shop just outside Swansea Train station a good few years back. Was an ok job, but the bosses were barmy and it all ended in tears, but while it lasted we had a hell of a laugh. The street the shop was on was in "Tramp-downtown" and we'd regularly see the poor bastards wonder past and sometimes glance in at us as we all stare back for an awkward second.

This one particular morning however, things were quite unusual at the station. Police had arrived in their masses and a large glass security car with a double-seat podium sat at the back. It could only mean one thing; the Queen HRH herself was in town. She along with Philip was touring Wales to highlight the opening of the Welsh Assembly some 10-11 years back, and her journey had currently taken her to the station a few yards up from us. Well this don't happen every day, so we congregate by the shop door, waiting for Coin-Bitch to drive past. Apparently there was a parade starting on the Kingsway in Swansea, which is a main road situated at the bottom of our road where the shop was.

After a few minutes the car is loaded and we can see them both clearly in the back (without seat-belts on I might add, road safety gamblers) and they start curb-crawling down past our shop complete with us gawping back. We wave, and Philip gives us all a massive "Hello!" and waves like a madman back, which made us grin like fuck. But the Queen has unfortunately spotted something else, and has a look of horror on her face.

We follow her gaze..........and see on the opposite side of the road 2 tramps taking a shit in a hedge, just as the queen was passing. She's got a look of shock, and we promptly piss ourselves laughing. Some patrolling police officers who are guarding the Royal car start radio-ing in something but it's too late. The Queen's seen Swansea for real and it stung :)

Soz for length of rp, but it was a royal sized number 2...
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 9:20, 2 replies)

"I'm Celtic! hic, burp"
A long time ago when I was a teenager my friends and I did some busking in Covent Garden. One memorial day was when we managed to get an unwelcome addition to our act. This lone mad scottish drunk. Soryy that's wrong, he wasn't scottish, he was celtic. He even used several faded smuges on his arms that could of been dirt or tatoos to prove this fact.

He didn;t help our musical repartee as his rythmic and tonal senses were as lacking as his body hygene. He also only knew 1 song although none of us could work out what it is, all we knew was that it wasn't any of the songs we were trying to play. We could not get rid of him. We moved several times and he followed like a lobsided loyal dog. That was until someone hit on a great idea and we all entered a pub on one side and promtly exited the other side. Strangly enough celtic bloke failed to extract himself from the dirnking establishment.

We decided to call it a day and got the hell out of there.
( Crap Little Monkey Deathstar, so good they built it twice, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 9:18, Reply)

ATTENTION TRAMPS!
When you are begging for change, don't do it next to a cash point:

The people are going to the cash point because they don't have any cash.

As they walk away, all they have is notes.

They are not going to give you a tenner.

Arrange yourself outside shops that sell fripperies and amusing luxuries. People will have change in their hand as they come out of the store and the contrast between their needless expense and your pitiful poverty will inspire guilt and induce donations.

Thank you for your attention.
(ManekiNeko loves horses, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 8:54, 6 replies)

London tramps are best.
Whilst queuing up to get into a club, a mad homeless black fella was marching up and down the queue saying, "Hey, who wanna fight, eh? I'm Muhammad Ali! Who wanna fight?"
He then heard some music from the club, started dancing on the spot and shouting, "Now I'm Bob Marley!"

Another tramp decided to sit with me and my mates whilst we had a bit of lunch in the park.
He said to us, "I have 5 daughters, 9 turtles and 9 daughters."
( Edd: The Unfunny Try-Hard Edgelord, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 8:37, Reply)

Bless Me B3ta
for I have sinned. It has been many days since my last post...


So I was standing in this bar one day when this girl walked past me. She was slutty looking and had jeans on that were so tight they must have been painted on.

"Fucking hell love" I said "How the hell do you get in those?"

She looked me up and down and said:

"Buy me a drink"

Cheers

What?
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 7:51, 14 replies)

I was the tramp
Our tale begins with yours truly sitting in a police car. You see, I'd been homeless for a good many months and in between roughing it, I'd done a fair bit of sofa surfing on especially cold nights. At one particular “friends”, I had however come a cropper. See this friend, rather then asking me to move on, as others had in various ways, decided instead to go for broke. I was asked to go out and pick up some stuff from another mutual acquaintance only to find that person wasn't just not in the house, but not even in the same city! Trudging back I phoned up – I'd left everything I owned in this friends place, beyond the bag on my back that literally went everywhere with me – it had a change of clothes and a sleeping bag in it. I was refused, and then was put on the business end of the most painful and hurtful tirades I've ever been witness to.

Threats a plenty came across the line. So I'd phoned the police as the temperature was dropping below zero at this point to get back what stuff I could carry with me. By the time the police had arrived (2 hours later), this friend had managed to hide/remove/whatever everything I knew to be in that house.

Everything.

So the police took me to the local salvation army centre, but as per – it was full to the brim. It's December, there is snow coming down quite heavily and I'm on the streets. Fuck.

In a moment of desperation I phoned a guy I'd worked with as a phone monkey for Currys. At this point I figured I didn't have anything to loose. The diamond came through.

“No probs Lea, get your arse round to my old man's – we'll set up a bed for you and we can work out the rest later!”

After an hour or so I got to his old man's house based on the directions he'd given me. By now I can't feel anything below my knees and my fingers are becoming difficult to move – it's that cold.

I stay at his Dad's place for two weeks in the end. But that's not the best part. Oh no.

His Dad was (as I understand it) a well known and trusted member of the Muslim community. Where both the local council and Christian charities had told me they couldn't do much due to me not being a single mother/(ex)junkie/asylum seaker/ex con. This one man, with a handful of phone calls arranged a place for me. Even better, thanks to his good words on my behalf, I didn't even have to pay a deposit!!!

So here I am, at home nearly 18 months later and very much alive thanks to a virtual strangers' kindness.

Thanks Noah, I can't say how much I owe you – how much is a life worth?

As for the “friend”, she ended up with practically all of my ID (in another bag), computer (worth a few hundred) and piles of other stuff. Not that I can prove it, of course.

Apologies for length...
(the_leander, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 7:39, 5 replies)

Choose your own adventure time
So, picture this:
You come home from work to discover someone has climbed the fence into your back yard, smashed things, kicked plants over and stolen a few bits and pieces including the cover off your motorbike, kicking it over in the process.
It's a 900SS Ducati, it should be pointed out, so that's very, very, annoying.
You clean up, straighten the bike, make the requisite moans of "Oh no!!!" when you notice it's been scratched in the process, then generally get on with life.
A few nights later after 27 beers, you're walking home from the pub when you spot, in the dark corner of the local park, a large silver something uunder some bushes.
A closer inspection reveals it's your bike cover, converted into a tent, keeping the steadily falling rain off a collection of clothes and junk, some of which used to live in your yard and other stuff which is easily identified as belonging to the bloke who's been wandering the streets for the past few months asking for money and screaming drunken abuse at anyone who comes close.
Do you:
a) Think, "Gosh, somone is so homeless they needed that bike cover to make a house. Poor bugger."
or
b) Pull the tent down, kick the thief's crap all over the place and stomp home regretting the fact there was nobody asleep under the thing at the time to belt.
?
I'm actualy quite curious because this happened to me and when I made my choice almost everyone I know had a go at me for doing the wrong thing.
( difficultchild, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 6:52, 7 replies)

Catman - Now with added video
I'm originally from a place called Greenock, it's a small former shipbuilding town and key port during World War II, on the west coast of Scotland, about 20 miles west of Glasgow.

Notable former residents, sons, etc, of this once proud hive of industry include Richard Wilson (Victor Meldrew), Jay Leno's mum, and most famously - James Watt. The Lockerbie bomber also resides in Greenock's prison.

And there's also Catman. He's called Catman because he eats rats, apparently. There's various stories about where he comes from and who he is. One such story I believe is he's a former Russian sailor who got left behind or fled Russia or summat, another simply that he's not mentally sound and probably been living rough too long that there's not much help for him.

This is a link to some sort of news story on him that I've just found.
current.com/items/88792802_the-catman-of-greenock-rough-edit.htm

That's him in the video, eating a rat. Here's the YouTube of the same thing - www.youtube.com/watch?v=L-x5O6QEejg

It's been filmed by a ned on his camera phone - a cousin of the chav, but with their own distinctive brand of style and violence.

I've just found the first video at work, and have no sound on my PC, so no idea what it says, but I have seen the YouTube before and that's really how a ned sounds
(Zutroy started without you, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 6:01, 1 reply)

King Ralph
This is not a story about me, but it happened to an alcoholic asshole named Ralph. He was the premier of a western Canadian province, and was equally known for his love of liquor and his love of privatisation money.

This particular province has a homeless problem, but it's not quite the same as other places. A few years ago they made it illegal to be homeless, and all the homeless people left for the warmer coastal region (which is now flooded with homeless people). After that purge there's a very different type of homeless population now.

Unlike the rest of the world, where unemployment seems to be a serious issue, in this province the more serious problem is lack of employees. Thanks to the US's oil addiction, the tar sands industry is booming, and housing can't be built fast enough to shelter the swiftly growing population of workers.

Anyway, back to Ralph, late one night after one of his infamous booze-ups, he decides to stop by a provincially funded homeless shelter to laugh at all the poor people.

"The purpose of my visit," he later told the press, "was to chat with residents and find out what their situations are like [at 1 in the morning]. During my time in politics, I have periodically made such unscheduled visits because they give me the opportunity to chat privately and honestly with people from different walks of life."

According to eyewitnesses, he entered the 249-bed centre, and began shouting, swearing, and slurring at the people inside. He told them to get jobs, then threw money on the floor and stormed out.

"Lo and behold, there he [Ralph] was in the middle of six or seven guys, yelling at them at the top of his lungs," reports one of the men in the homeless shelter. "I don’t drink or do drugs and he’s telling me to get a job when I already have one. If I wouldn’t have gotten arrested, I would have slugged him."

So yeah, there we go, visit a homeless shelter, yell at a bunch of working men to get jobs, enter into AA, and remain one of the most popular Tory leaders of the country. Oh yeah, and it turned out Ralph was a lot more intolerable sober than he was drunk.
(racetraitor has an alibi for, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 3:33, Reply)

Johnny Wellies...
Anyone from the north west, particularly the St Helens area and possibly surrounding will be familiar with this tramp... Erm, have a video of him at his best: www.youtube.com/watch?v=kz6aFY22DYw&feature=related
(Mart'n has managed to not be obscene since, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 2:32, 2 replies)

Walking along Oxford Street, London
after a heavy night out, pizza in hand. I staggered aimlessly past a street dweller and he struck up a conversation with me.

"Is that pizza, my old mucker?"

"Erm, yes it is" I replied.

"I'm fucking hungry mate, would you mind if I took a slice"

Of course, I obliged. He really did look hungry, and as dirty as a freshly dug potato.

I wasn't expecting his next comment though. "Eurgh! Pineapple! Nah, you can keep it". Apparently beggars can be choosers after all.
( chart cat has an itch, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 2:30, 6 replies)