» Claims to Fame

Think you don't know me? Think again...
You know when you wake up in the morning after a night on the piss and it tastes like someone shit in your mouth?

That was me.
(Thu 24th Feb 2005, 13:19, More)

» Scars with history

That'll learn me, fucking show-off...
Back in the day, when I was a wee lad of four years of age, I was joyfully playing in the bath. My mother had some of her lady friends round of tea and whatever when one of them spotted me bathing (I washed with the door open in case I, uh... drowned or something). Said lady then called lady companions to come see - I was good looking chap, so I was, and they all swooned at my cuteness.

It was at this point I thought I'd give them a treat. I hopped out the bath in all my four year old glory (it may have resembled an acorn back then, but WHAT an acorn!) and began to tap my foot.

Have you guessed yet? Oh yes, I began to dance. Grooving to the music in my head, I was the shit. Throwing in a dramatic twirl here and there and seductively shaking my backside, I even used a little pot as a prop to cover my manhood during my performance. These women were close to fainting.

And then came the finale... which was a little anti-climatic. I was thinking of spinning round whilst removing the pot and falling into some sort of "jazz hands" position, I hadn't quite decided as I was improvising. However, the actual ending and desired effect of my performance was greatly different to which I intended... I achieved the spin, but in mid-spin it began to go wrong. As everything fell into slow motion and looks of horror swept across the faces of my audience, I fell and slammed my chin on the edge of the bath. The impact caused my chin to split and blood to spray across the bath and myself.

And so there I laid... a bloody naked mess, a little pot rolling out my hand and stopping at the feet of my spectators.

The next thing I remember was arriving through the doors in hospital. My mother quickly took me (which was good) but didn't think to dress me (which was bad). Cue much worried/confused/disturbed glances as a pissed off, naked, blood-covered four year old boy staggered towards the emergency room.

I try to cover my scar with a beard to avoid people asking me "how did you get that then?" Not wanting to tell, my usual response is "Uh... I got stabbed."
(Mon 7th Feb 2005, 9:39, More)

» Shoddy Presents

I was 14 years old, it was
Christmas morning and we all had unwrapped our presents and all seem fairly satisfied, though I felt a little dismayed as I was hoping for a bike which I had desired for many years. Then my father says, "Follow me, I got something to show you..."

So off we went towards the garage, and he pulls back the door, and what's sitting there? An old bike from the 40's, a monsterous attrocity made from what seemed like cast iron and my heart sank and ripped in two. While I looked at this hideous contraption, my dad says, "It's my bike, Mum got it for me..."

At this point I wanted to hug him and cry (I was so happy) and uttered, "Thank God, I thought you were gonna give that piece of crap to me"

My dad was stunned... he held onto that thing for about two weeks when my mum finally confided in me telling me it was intended for me. I was forced to ask if I could borrow his bike from time to time and pretended I had fun riding it. I swear I saw a tear rolling down his grinning face as I strained my legs trying to move what may as well have been a two wheeled tank.
(Wed 29th Sep 2004, 12:46, More)

» Guilty Pleasures

Paaarp!
Whilst my girlfriend sleeps next to me in bed, I like trying to break wind as loud as I can without waking her up. It's kind of like a personal challenge.

That and playing air guitar whilst wearing nothing but a bell around the base of my penis.
(Mon 11th Apr 2005, 15:01, More)

» Local Nutters

Cambridge - Mill Road, again
I had the pleasure of running into an old homeless Irishman outside a second hand store (near the Locomotive). A pleasent old chap, with a rather large gobule of dark orange phlem hanging off his crusty beard. Our encounter was brief, but poignant... If memory serves me correctly, our conversation went thusly...

Tramp: (sceaming) DO YOU KNOW WHY I STINK?
Me: Why's that then?
Tramp: *shits himself and rubs his produce over his buttocks and back of thighs*

...And I never saw him again - I often lie in bed thinking what he's up to now.
(Tue 21st Sep 2004, 10:29, More)