Grungy little fuckwit
Being a student in the early ninetees I was heavily influened by Alice in Chains, Screaming Trees, Nirvana, and so on. I had the look and the attitude and everything. Wooo!

One day I was sat on Oxford Road, Manchester drinking a cup of coffee, wearing my best lumberjack shirt, fucked up denims, favorite old Jane's Addiction t-shirt and sporting a weeks worth of carefully cultivated fur on my face.

It was a beautiful day, sun shining, I had some lecture or other I should've been at - but fuck that for a game of soldiers. It was too damn nice out. Learnings for wimps and all that twattery. So, I'm quietly contemplating how fucking good life is, how amazing I look in my uber-grunge outfit when-

some fucker walked passed and absently tossed a fifty pence peice into my cup, splashing boiling hot coffee all over my bollocks.

Turns out I didn't look cool, casual and urbane. I just looked like a scruffy listless tramp with fuck all else to do.

(Though 50p is 50p - get in there!!!)
( SpankyHanky, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 0:22, 2 replies)

That happened to my FPO*
...in Waitrose in Bath, of all places. Sat on the ledge (in the store) near the exit and "plip" - in to her cup of coffee, two whole pence, the change from some affluent member of society's prawn sandwich, no doubt. She didn't look particularly dishevelled, either.

*Fun Prevention Officer
(Mousy Tongue ...Generally bemused by life..., Fri 3 Jul 2009, 7:42, closed)

I honestly think
I like your stories this week more than the usual sex romps.

Feels a lot more honest :)
(Scritty Bakerman., Mon 6 Jul 2009, 3:20, closed)