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» Mix Tapes

'I want you, I want you, I want you'
A lad in my class used to make me tapes of Prince albums (so perhaps a tenuous entry for this QOTW) but they became the stuff of legend in our school due to the 'extras' added to the spare tape at the end of each album.

The lad concerned didn't have many friends at school, due to him being a Vegan Doctor Who fanatic who wore a single BMX glove and used to wander off into the fields at lunch time to boogaloo alone to music in his head inbetween wolfing down mouthfuls of animal free slop. He also built his own computers from scratch and once invited me into his bedroom/workshop, where he'd glued empty crisp boxes to the wall in lieu of shelves and filled them with motherboards, defaced photos of Maggie Thatcher and half eaten tins of treacle. I ended up befriending him as I was almost as unpopular and socially inept as he was and we bonded over a love of Prince (I also developed a fine business selling him the porn mags that I stole from the Esso garage, which has some bearing on his later antics).

He started off adding idle bits of quite amusing banter to the end of each tape, normally involving him talking to a tape recording of himself, singing songs, pretending to be drunk or reading from biology texts (I have no idea why he did the last one) but eventually he got daring and blew his load all in one go.

On the end of one tape (a copy of 'Dirty Mind' as it happens) he added a reading from the letters page of one of the magazines I'd sold him. Nothing too filthy but delivered with a fevered relish and a lot of unusual flapping noises so slightly unusual.

He then raised the bar when he followed this up by performing a lecture posing as a philosopher named Sigmund Foond, in which he discussed the sexual merits of some girls in our class. He went into vivid detail (during which he confessed to stroking himself and licking his tie) and wandered off into dream scenarios about men fighting to the death for their favours in the middle ages.

He finished off the tape with his finest moment, a song he'd written about these girls. The tune wasn't up to much, coming across like an increasing excitable version of Madonna's 'Erotica' if it was performed by a teenage lunatic from Warrington thrashing his leg with a tie, but the lyrics were disturbingly memorable. Especially the final ones:

Ooh, Mavis come to me
Vicky, Clare and Gaynor too
Tie me in a sack
jack me off
jack me off
whip me, kick me, kick me baby
I want your whips tonight
Under the stars
Under the night
I want you baby
Every night
I want you, I want you, I want you

The last line was particularly powerful as it was delivered with a heroic orgasmic grunt just as the tape ran out.

Being a teenager, and therefore something of a cunt, I took it into school and played it to the girls concerned, who understandably went ballistic at him, slapping him violently until they realised he was enjoying it.

He suffered the humiliation with great humour as it happened and didn't even seem to mind when a bootleg of it (there were plenty about, many perplexingly remixed with samples of 'Also Sprach Zarahustra') was played on the coach during a field trip.

The last time I saw him was in 1994. He appeared to have glued sprigs of hair all over his face and was scrutinising the rice puddings in the Co-op.

I want to see him now. Really badly.
(Thu 7th Feb 2008, 17:00, More)

» I witnessed a crime

A few years back a thoroughly bored friend (Alex) and I decided to kill an afternoon checking out the end of degree fine arts show in the Salford Uni arts building. After a couple of hours of wandering through the studios staring at the 'Will this do?' style efforts of the students (I was an art student for five years so can spot art-wank bullshit in pitch darkness) we walked back to the car park and were confronted with a void where we had left Alex's off colour, F Reg, automatic Honda Civic slumped a while earlier.

Naively we at first thought it had been towed by security but after a quick word with the guy in the car park security booth ('I watched it being driven out, I remember thinking to my self "That's a nice car"' FFS plus it wasn't, it was shit) we were put right, called the police and wandered back home through the streets of Salford, which for those who don't know is akin to wandering through the set of Escape from New York.

After an hour or so of getting totally lost (and mildly terrified) we finally spotted a local shopping precinct that we recognised and headed for it, at which point Alex spotted his car driving around the roundabout and heading into the car park.

We sprinted towards the precinct and saw the car parked (and full to the brim with pinch faced scallies) by a bank of shops so Alex popped into a nearby phone box and called the police, whilst I stood outside keeping an eye on them (and sensibly, if not exactly bravely, failing to confront them). Just as Alex got connected to the dibble the guys all pulled up their hoods and the car sped past us, pulling to a screeching halt outside Burger King and emptying it's chavvy contents, armed with lengths of heavy pipe, through the doors.

I watched this unfold, slightly stunned, listening to the garbled soundtrack of Alex's phonecall...

'Some guys have stolen my car and I've just followed it to Salford precinct. They're parked...and now...GOD!! THEY'RE DOING A ROBBERY IN IT!!! BURGER KING!!! NOW!! IN FRONT OF ME!!! NOW!!! THEY'RE ROBBING BURGER KING!!! YES!!! NOW!!!'

A minute or so later they ran out, jumped in the car and pelted off at speed over the one way speed bumps (the wrong way), whilst Alex winced and groaned into the phone as his precious motor was savaged (it later turned up in a Salford back street, having been playfully mangled by it's thieving inhabitants).

We went to check on the people in Burger King to see if they were alright (which of course they were, such robberies being a regular occurrence) then spent the night giving statements and being teased with the idea of being able to flick through a big book of photos featuring notable low end crims.

Having reached the end I've realised that's not a very good anecdote.

There was also the time when a guy with a gun forced his way into the bar I was working in then made a swift exit out of the back doors by the stock room. Stupidly curious I followed after him (leaving a minute or so grace, I'm not THAT stupid) and discovered a couple violently bumming between the skips.

That is all.
(Thu 14th Feb 2008, 16:19, More)

» * PFFT *

My old boss once recounted to me the story of his most disappointing fart. During tests for IBS he had to have a camera fed into his tradesmans and afterwards on the drive home he was aware that he about to massively shit himself.

He drove home at a terrifying speed, burst through the front door and clambered up the stairs to the bathroom, just whipping his trousers down quick enough to get his arse over the toilet and let out the longest, most epically rasping trump of his life.

He inhaled for the celebratory sniff, expecting a sick making beefiness only he could love but was massively let down to discover that it smelt of soap.

It's been ten years now and he still hasn't recovered from the disappointment.
(Mon 16th Jul 2007, 15:55, More)

» * PFFT *

My ex once farted directly up my nose during a 69. It was incredible. Totally undiluted, pure methane straight into the nostril.

Luckily I came shortly after so avoided vomiting. Yet another reason to thank my genitals.

I also once parped in my sleep with such volume and power that I woke up shouting 'What the hell was that?!', convinced the house was being broken into. It took a good few minutes before my wife convinced me that I was the cause. She would know after all as I once erupted in a night fart so revolting that she awoke in tears.

I can't pretend that I'm not proud of that.
(Wed 18th Jul 2007, 9:35, More)

» Embarrassing Injuries

Let's see...
I've broken my nose three times. Once by falling onto a cattle grid and twice by slipping in the mud at a fairground and smashing face first into the condiment shelf of a hot dog stand on two consecutive visits.

I almost choked to death trying to impress my friends by swallowing an entire doughnut in one go (granted, a rather base from of entertainment). I remember seeing them all laughing heartily and then noticing as their faces grew with concern, my friend shouting "God, he's going blue!". Eventually my body repelled the treat in the form of a six inch doughy sausage.

Oh, and i accidentally shut my head in the fridge door recently.
(Thu 2nd Sep 2004, 12:28, More)
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