» Toilets

it's shit.
I am 23, staggering in to the kitchen of my family home, fighting a hangover bigger than the flab roll that hangs over the waist band of Lisa Riely's hot pants. I am wearing my trusty towelling dressing gown, and nothing else. Now, I knew that we had family staying, cus I had to sleep on the sofa. I open the fridge door, with my back to the rest of the kitchen. I thought I was alone. I take a big refreshing gulp of apple juice, and feel a big rumble bubble in the old belly. "Ah, I feel a little windy-pop a-rising!" I happily sing to myself, looking forward to the gas release relief. I squeeze a little, too hard in hind’s sight and out pops a slimy; booze endued jobbie, right on the kitchen floor. It looked like I had broken off one of Bungles (from TV show Rainbow) fingers at the knuckle and smothered it in Vaseline. I am slightly taken a back by this, but not over come. That was until I shut the fridge door, turn around and see my mum, dad, uncle, auntie, sister, gran and grandpa sitting quietly having tea and toasted crumpets.
I had just sang a song about farting, then shat myself in the kitchen. In front of every respected member of my family.

Now, at every opportunity, does not matter if in front of one or hundreds of people, my father is always, “ hey every one, you wanna hear the story when T-bone Jnr shat on the kitchen floor?” I reply with, “ you wanna hear a story about when dad was caught touching the 8 year old boy next door?”. My stories never get a big laugh.
(Fri 2nd Sep 2005, 16:27, More)

» Shit Stories: Part Number Two

It's shit
Re post. no time.

I am 23, staggering in to the kitchen of my family home, fighting a hangover bigger than the flab roll that hangs over the waist band of Lisa Riely's hot pants. I am wearing my trusty towelling dressing gown, and nothing else. Now, I knew that we had family staying, cus I had to sleep on the sofa. I open the fridge door, with my back to the rest of the kitchen. I thought I was alone. I take a big refreshing gulp of apple juice, and feel a big rumble bubble in the old belly. "Ah, I feel a little windy-pop a-rising!" I happily sing to myself, looking forward to the gas release relief. I squeeze a little, too hard in hind’s sight and out pops a slimy; booze induced jobbie, right on the kitchen floor. It looked like I had broken off one of Bungles (from TV show Rainbow) fingers at the knuckle and smothered it in Vaseline. I am slightly taken a back by this, but not over come. That was until I shut the fridge door, turn around and see my mum, dad, uncle, auntie, sister, gran and grandpa sitting quietly having tea and toasted crumpets.
I had just sang a song about farting, then shat myself in the kitchen. In front of every respected member of my family.

Now, at every opportunity, does not matter if in front of one or hundreds of people, my father is always, “ hey every one, you wanna hear the story when Jeeves shat on the kitchen floor?” I reply with, “ you wanna hear a story about when dad was caught touching the 8 year old boy next door?”. My stories never get a big laugh.
(Wed 2nd Apr 2008, 11:54, More)

» When I met the parents

It's very dark in here.....
It was always going to be a bit awkward. My parents don’t say a lot at the best of times, and hardly leave the house much these days. The girl I had been seeing for the last week or so was absolutely terrified, and was always moaning. I know that a week isn’t that long, but I knew that we were going to spend the rest of our lives together. The starter and main coarse pasted without a word uttered between them. I tried to lighten the atmosphere by tucking my penis between my legs and singing “I’m a lady, I’m a lady”. My Man-gina dancing did nothing to help. My parents just sat there slumped in their chairs, staring into space, and my girl just would’nt sit still, always squirming about on her seat. I asked my dad what he thought of my “bird”. He just buried his head in his desert. Always the drinker! My Mum was fine, till the dog snapped off her arm, then my girl started to cry and pissed herself. Disaster! I didn’t think it could get any worse, then police turned up. Untied and un-gagged my girl, and took my parents rotten corpses away. Oh how WE laugh about it now! Don’t WE? No, WE don’t. I do. Yes, but you’re a little odd. God, my teeth are itchy.
(goes back to drawing perfect circles in human excrement)
(Tue 24th May 2005, 16:29, More)

» You're a moviestar baby

gay, but not in a happy way.
Last week, those two gay Scottish interior designers were filming in the house across the road from my flat. They were filming the shot of them mincing down the street, talking piss. I found it really funny to shout “ BUMMERS” loudly out my window, then duck and hide behind the curtain, as any real man would. I did it 8 times, every time ruining the shot. They laughed the 1/2 time, by the 8th time; the dark haired one shouted, “FUCK OFF”. Somewhat stunned, the only reply I could muster from the safety of my curtain based hiding place was a loud “GAY LORD”. That showed them. They gave up after that and went in side. Although, I did ring the doorbell and run away. I only hope my homophobic heckling makes the final cut. If ever you watch a show of theirs from Edinburgh, listen out for “bummers”. That’s me. My mum will be so proud.
(Thu 11th Nov 2004, 14:40, More)

» Petty Sabotage

self satisfaction
I sabotaged my chances of appearing on the “best” front page of a web site, by not posting until rather late on, hence not giving people enough time to click on the “I like this” icon. Also the response I posted was shit, giving people no reason to click on the “I like this” icon. mission accomplished.
( sits back smugly, as his dirty little hand disappears down his grubby little pants)
(Wed 11th May 2005, 10:41, More)