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One day,in a galaxy far far away,I will learn how to update a post properly

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» Housemates

The Sons Of John Barr
at end of 1991 I came out of a long term relationship at the same time as a mate got divorced and turfed out of his house. Getting a flat together and living it up seemed like a great idea and another mate moved in to take the third bedroom. There were only actually two bedrooms though, the other room should have been the living room, which there wasn't one of, and you had to walk through it to get to the kitchen

it was ok at first, lots of booze and recreational drug abuse but within a few months had spiralled to a really bad atmosphere between me and the original flatmate. He was a nice guy when sober but an aggressive bully when drunk, especially on whisky. He dealt hash and had lost what you'd class as his real friends but had picked up an entourage of chancing hangers on. I saw him grab people by the neck and slam their heads through glass doors and cabinets but they were back the next day if they thought they could borrow money from him for booze and tic hash off of him

it ended up him and a hard core of about 3-5 other guys basically living in that one room completely out of their tits 24/7. People were being thrown through the windows into the street, ground floor flat, during the height of their drunken revelry and concrete slabs were being thrown through the windows from the outside by outraged neighbours

apart from the core group there was a large revolving group of other people who came and went, hells angels, professional moneylenders and assorted flotsam and jetsam. The flat got abandoned by our other friends who were into a drink and drugs but not to the extent our place had become. Hardly any females visited, I once had to step over him banging one on the hall floor to get into the toilet, both of them pissed as newts, her a drug connections wife

I had to go to my folks for a bath as the bath at ours was filled to overflowing with empty Buckfast and whisky bottles and the bathroom floor a minefield of cat shit

the other flatmate is a notorious cheapskate whose contribution to the economics of the flat was to eat our food, try to pay nothing to the utility bills and purchase nothing more than ten Club and two cans of Gilde Pils a week and say he was skint. One day he came in and said he was off to India for a year and would see us later, a clue to where his money had been going

another hardcore boozer mate moved in in his place and things just carried on. My room was at the front so I'd be awoken constantly with people rapping my window to get in to get drunk and buy hash at silly hours, my flatmates couldn't hear the buzzer over the noise of The Mac Lads blasting out of his room

things came to a head one day when they went to the local pub and one of the guys saw someone at the pool table who had ripped him off for a bit of hash a decade earlier. They decided they were going to stab him and came back to the flat for a knife and decided they were going to use a ghurka knife someone had given me. I refused to give them it, my flatmate was brandishing a scythe, threatened my then girlfriend (a complete nugget) with it, ransacked my room and eventually found the knife. We had a struggle for it and he held it to my throat and I told him to go and do his thang. I knew they probably wouldn't actually go back to the pub, they'd just talk about it and buy a bottle of whisky about halfway there and turn back. I was right, they came back, my flatmate was being feted by his minions as being a great guy and they'd showed the other guy what for despite not actually going back. I walked into the midst of this and punched my flatmate as hard as I could right on the button and he went down flat on his arse. I then took the dropped ghurka knife and held it under his cheekbone and asked him if he liked having a knife held to him by a friend. He replied "honour, you've drawn the knife and you have to draw blood with it" (we'll get back to this later) so I said ok and gave him a small nick on the cheekbone, they weren't expecting me to do it and I was relieved of the knife by the other people in the room incase I did worse damage with it

I decided if I didn't move out one of was going to come to a sticky end so I moved out the next day. I used to periodically visit though and the place went from bad to worse. The last time I went back the kitchen sink was on the floor in about fifteen pieces. He'd moved into my old room and the floor was littered with empty bottles, swords, knives, crossbows, air guns etc. They were drinking John Barr whisky by the gallon and had taken to calling themselves The Sons Of John Barr. They had this whole honour thing going, if a knife was taken from its sheath blood had to be drawn and on closer inspection they were all covered in cuts across their forearms and the back of their hands. My flatmate was using one of the knives to open tins of catfood, cut himself with it, probably got a bit of Whiskas into his bloodstream and developed septicemia

it eventually came to a close when he attacked his best friend with a whisky bottle and smashed all his front teeth out with it, although there are rumours that to put in a more convincing claim for criminal damages the victim pulled out a few more teeth with a pair of pliers to make it look even more of a catastrophe. When he went to the police they were full of sympathy until they asked for the address, upon his reply they put down the pen and told him it was his own fault for going there and told him to clear off. Not to be detered from his rightful claim for compensation for no longer having any front teeth he took out a private prosecution and my flatmate got eighteen months and the flat was promptly closed down by the environmental health and our landlord went to prison for using one of his flats to grow grass, which was discovered when the flat next door caught fire

my flatmate got out out of prison still a complete nugget except now with a penchant for smoking smack and touching other mens bottoms

I walk past the flat on a regular basis and think "it was a melting pot of beliefs and cultures"

ps, my flatmate lives round the corner from the original flat, I've been in once and it looked the same story being repeated and I'm hearing of regular visitors to it drinking themselves to death at 33
(Fri 27th Feb 2009, 15:48, More)

» Darwin Awards

a few but to keep things short
going back 15 years through the mists of time, local off sales had a christmas raffle, I won a bottle of whisky, drank it with a half bottle of rum as a chaser and some speed and proceeded to fall thirty feet over the bannisters while trying to get into my house. Two blood clots on brain, numerous fractures of skull, broken jaw, ruptured eardrum and right calf completely torn off with left calf torn open

it seemed like a good idea at the time
(Fri 13th Feb 2009, 14:42, More)

» Festivals

1988, Stonehenge, camped on Bill Oddie's land I believe
lots of the usual stories about massive over indulgence of acid etc

will cut a long story short with one anecdote

we'd lost a member of our party at some point the previous day. That night me and some friends went on a bit of a wandering acid/hash bender and through the night the group gradually whittled down to two of us. We were walking through some grass and bushes around 5am and followed a trail of empty EKU 28 bottles which were scattered along the side of a path through the grass. At the end of it we found a group of people who looked as though they'd stepped out of the 18th century, peasant style clothing, sitting around a bush playing mandolins etc. Inside the bush, holding onto the trunk for dear life we found our missing friend
(Fri 5th Jun 2009, 14:21, More)

» In the Army Now - The joy of the Armed Forces

Tenshun
Members of family were in army but too many stories

A friends neighbour was at Monte Casino and lots of other places during WW2. He says that the first thing which happened when the monastry was overun was that a makeshift gallows was erected and all the women who had been fratenising with the Germans were hung.

A friend worked in a pub used by army and TA. She says the army were well behaved and left at closing time. The TA were a total bunch of wankers who thought being a parttime soldier gave them ownership of the world and everything in it.
(Fri 24th Mar 2006, 18:35, More)

» The Police

Detection rates
Lived in one of Glasgows worst shitholes. Top half of stairs, where I was, 24/7 shooting gallery. Bottom half used as gang hut/toilet by local chavneds. Lots of breakins/muggings. CID appears at my house, asks me to sign a prepared statement saying that I'd seen my downstairs neighbour moving all his belongings into a van and driving away with them. Complete bollocks, which I told him and asked him what they were going to do about the breakins/violence/intimidation on the stairs. He told me "if you don't like it get a fucking job and buy a house."

Same house was torched twice in 13 days, trapped for over an hour first time, out during 2nd. While I was at the vets with my badly injured cat, the locals raided my house in shifts, everything down to teabags/shampoo/food/clothes/watertank. Building condemned and had to move in with parents. Cue phonecall from local cop, informing me that I'd performed the fires and breakin myself for insurance. Informed him I wasn't insured. He called back 5 minutes later and said I did it to get moved to a new house. I told him I'd already accepted a new house before the breakin and was waiting for the keys. He called back 5 minutes later to inform me that I'd done it myself because I'm an attention seeking troublemaker. Case closed, even though I could name at least six of the local scum I know for a fact were in my house.

As luck would have it I was only moved 1/4 mile from this shithole into a house facing same policestation. Cue five years of the same shit, windows bricked in, etc. When I chased them they would run into station, shouting 'we're only 15 and that big guy's going to hit us'. Ended up being cornered by a loudmouth wideboy cop and his silent female partner. He told me that if I didn't stop chasing the neds he was going to plant heroin and a knife on me and make sure I was remanded for it.

Local Labour councillor for this place was a complete crook who protected the drug dealers and switched off the dictaphone to threaten me when I tried to get help to be moved to another area.

Bottled by gang of 15 neds outside one of the houses. Police show up, see 15 drunk neds and me bleeding and went for the easy option and arrested me.

I know you can't tar all police with the same brush but after this I have absolutely no time for them whatsoever. This lot were a bunch of lazy, overpaid crooks.

ps, the response time from this station to make the 1/4 mile journey averaged 5 1/2 hours. This station had a dying shopping scheme from hell next door to it. Smack was sold openly outside this. The police station had CCTV pointing to one side of it to cover their cars, conspicously none on the other side which would have covered the dealers. But hey, crime in areas where people aren't loaded and have connections isn't actually crime, it's a social problem, apparently.
(Sat 24th Sep 2005, 3:09, More)
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