» Nativity Plays

Re-re-re-repost!
I can trump all of these "I played a tree" or "I played a cow" stories.

In second year junior school I played . . .

A patch of darkness.

Oh yes. Myself and 4 or 5 others dressed entirely in black with black face paint on a dimly lit stage.

I don't think the headmaster liked me.
(Thu 2nd Apr 2009, 13:58, More)

» Have you ever seen a dead body?

Magnus
I was 7 when my family aquired its first cat. Jet black, with big, bright yellow eyes, name of Magnus. After Magnus Magnusson. Because he was so intelligent.

And he was a character. Only a few months old when we got him, but full of personality. The friendliest, softest cat you've ever met. Would greet you at the bottom of the stairs every morning - he knew he wasn't allowed upstairs, you see.

The biggest surprise was how my Dad took to him. My Dad has never been a cat person - I seem to remember he had to be pleaded with just to get a cat in the first place. But Magnus soon changed all that. It wasn't long before my Dad's nightly ritual involved sitting in front of the TV, alone, Magnus curled up fast asleep on his lap. He loved that little guy - they had a relationship that was all their own.

One day I came home from school. Magnus wasn't there. No-one had seen him since that morning. Unusual, but no real cause for alarm.

Until the knock on the door. We were sat around the table eating dinner (I remember this as if it happened last week). It was a neighbour at the door . . . she had "found something. Probably best not to talk in front of the children. I'm very sorry, but . . .", and there he was. Magnus. In a little cardboard box, eyes closed and still - oh so very still.

I was inconsolable. My brother, being a few years younger didn't really understand what was going on, but I did. It turns out that the neighbour had found Magnus tangled up in a bush. He was confused, and his legs were broken. He slipped away in front of her. Maybe a car ran over him, maybe he was sleeping under it and it pulled away without him realising. I don't know. But I'd like to think that as he died, alone and confused, he knew he had a family that loved him dearly.

My Dad buried him in the back garden that night. I'll never forget it. My Dad, a man not known for showing his feelings, a man who has never told me he loves me, a man who keeps his emotions bottled up inside him - he wept as he buried his little night-time companion.

I'll never forget how still Magnus was, lying in that box. I'll never forget how his fur was still so soft when I stroked him, and how peaceful he looked. I'll never forget any of that. Taught me a lot, that did. Death comes to us all - it's not pretty, and it hurts, but the hurt fades and the heart heals. But the pain and the loss and, most of all, the image of my Dad, my strong, silent, emotionless Dad, weeping uncontrolably as he placed his little friend into the ground - those things will never leave me.
(Mon 3rd Mar 2008, 18:46, More)

» Evil Pranks

Fun and games with wheel clamps
I'm not the sort of person who usually plays tricks on people. One, I don't have a particularly devious mind and two, I generally can't be arsed. (And three I tend to find them cruel - many of the posts on here seem to be describing outright abuse rather than "pranks". I digress.) However, when the opportunity presents itself I just can't resist!

I used to work with a guy called James. Nice guy but a bit uptight. Would easlily fly off the handle at the slightest provocation.

One day James came into work and decided he couldn't be bothered with all that parking malarky and just dumped his car across three spaces. I sensed an opportunity for merrymaking.

On the pretext of going out for a fag I snuck into the car park and took a picture of the front of James' car on my phone, thusly:




Later, when James popped out of the office I quickly photoshopped a wheel clamp onto his car, thusly:



I then tranferred the image back to my phone.

When I got back to the office after my next fag break, I looked stony faced. James asked me what was wrong - and for once I managed not to give the game away by laughing. I played it deadly serious.

"Mate, I think you need to go and look at your car."

"Why?"

"You'll never believe me. Here, I took a photo." And I showed him the shopped picture of his car on my phone.

"Is this a wind-up?"

My poker face would have put a Vegas hustler to shame. "No mate, I swear it's not a wind-up. Go and see for yourself."

And with a cry of "motherfuckers!" he was out the door, as I basked in the warm glow of a job well done.
(Sat 15th Dec 2007, 0:18, More)

» Common

Apparently, we're common
Many, many years ago my family were enjoying a nice quiet Sunday at home when we became aware of a commotion across the street.

A fire engine turned up and firemen started running into a house over the road. My dad went out to see what was going on.

Outside he met our next door neighbour, a woman who made Hyacinth Bucket look like dole-scrounging chav scum.

"I wonder what's going on", said the neighbour.
"I don't know", replied my dad, "perhaps it's a chip pan fire".

The lady turned to my dad and looked straight down her nose at him.

"Chips?", she said, "on a Sunday?"
(Sun 19th Oct 2008, 11:04, More)

» Random Acts of Evil

Re-post, Selecta
I'm not the sort of person who usually plays tricks on people. One, I don't have a particularly devious mind and two, I generally can't be arsed. However, when the opportunity presents itself I just can't resist.

I used to work with a guy called James. Nice guy but a bit uptight. Would easlily fly off the handle at the slightest provocation. One day James came into work and decided he couldn't be arsed to park correctly and just dumped his car across three spaces. I sensed an opportunity for merrymaking.

On the pretext of going out for a fag I snuck into the car park and took a picture of the front of James' car on my phone, thusly:



Later, when James popped out of the office I quickly photoshopped a wheel clamp onto his car, thusly:



I then tranferred the image back to my phone.

When I got back to the office after my next fag break, I looked stony faced. James asked me what was wrong - and for once I managed not to give the game away by laughing. I played it deadly serious.

"Mate, I think you need to go and look at your car."

"Why?"

"You'll never believe me. Here, I took a photo." And I showed him the shopped picture of his car on my phone.

"Is this a wind-up?"

My poker face would have put a Vegas hustler to shame. "No mate, I swear it's not a wind-up. Go and see for yourself."

And with a cry of "motherfuckers!" he was out the door, as I basked in the warm glow of a job well done.
(Mon 20th Feb 2012, 14:34, More)