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» Advice from Old People

The one bit of advice I remember my old man giving me:
"Have a wank, it's less trouble."
(Sun 22nd Jun 2008, 13:15, More)

» Tramps

Xylophone man
Joseph Conrad believed that the best stories are about the author and that when telling a story it's an error to talk about someone else. I'm not sure I agree.

I've got the usual assortment of tales of being rude to tramps, running away from them when I was younger and, on a couple of disturbing occasions, receiving sexual advances that made my skin crawl.

Most people have a tramp (or even several, if they're lucky) that they remember. There was the one who hung around outside my university that I bought cider for so he would keep me entertained while I handed out flyers for one pointless club night or another. There was the heroin addict outside Euston Square station that I saw creep a little closer to shuffling off this mortal coil each day. But these are all little, pointless memories of a single person - few cross over to become an institution. Xylophone man was one of those few.

Anybody who spent time in Nottingham city centre during the nineties is likely to remember him. From about 1989, until his death in 2004 he sat there (usually outside C&A on Listergate), playing his child's xylophone. He never worried about the finer points, like learning to play a recognisable tune, he just plinked away on his tiny instrument for 15 years. I don't remember seeing him without a smile on his face.

Maybe it's uncharitable to call him a tramp, or anything similar, as there were rumours about him having a home somewhere in the city. But as he never worried about the finer points, neither shall I.

Nottingham city centre's been a slightly poorer place since.

(Thu 2nd Jul 2009, 18:46, More)

» Why should you be fired from your job?

Not the best...
...but possibly the most recent.

My meeting in Brighton this morning (I work in London) consisted of me sitting on the beach eating fish and chips in the lovely sunshine.
(Thu 9th Aug 2007, 19:24, More)

» Best Graffiti Ever

The Jug of Ale in Moseley, Birmingham.
The urinal proclaimed that Dave was "an Ass-Banging Shit Midget."
(Thu 3rd May 2007, 23:31, More)

» My first experience of porn

The Page Three House
When I was about 9 a lad moved into the house backing onto my friend's garden. He was an unpredictable fucknut with a penchant for hitting people with sticks and a huge alsation. However, he had a tree house, so we liked him. In the tree house he had a chest that he wouldn't let us look in. We could see bits of newspaper sticking out, but couldn't understand why anyone would keep newspaper. So, one afternoon when we knew he'd gone out we sneaked into his garden, climbed up into the tree house and broke into the chest. It was packed full of cut outs from Page 3. Piles and piles of tits and arses (and no Dear Deirde/closet racism). After that we kept a close eye on when he was out and would climb back into the tree house and ogle as often as we could.

When we finally got tired of him and his sticks we waited until he went out one afternoon and spread the entire stash across his garden. His dad went balistic to come home and find his precious garden pretty much covered with Denise from Essex and Roxanne from Romford.
(Fri 26th Jan 2007, 11:29, More)
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