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» Conversation Killers

You know what should be a conversation stopper, but very rarely is?
The start of the fucking film.
(Thu 12th May 2011, 13:18, More)

» Housemates

Early one morning, doing my rounds...
...I took a shot of cocaine and I shot my woman down...

Wait...I fucked that up...let me start again.

In the wee small hours of one student morning, doing a couple of lines of something I shouldn't have been with a friend and playing on the NES (God, I am SO old).

We hear the front door open, We hear footsteps on the stairs.

We hear giggling, We hear moaning, We hear the unmistakable sounds of my Irish Cassanova flatmate getting down to the physical act of love.

I look at my co-conspirator, we shrug, and go back to our slightly aggressive game of Sensible Soccer, turning the volume up slightly, waiting for the inevitable signal that he had 'completed the task'

Why 'inevitable?' Well, we had a game, it was a very childish game admittedly, but it was our game nevertheless. If any of us pulled (and when I say any of us, I wasn't the most successful sexual adventurer as a student, so it was mainly the other guys), at the moment of climax, we'd have to shout an advertising slogan as loud as we could. You'd get a point for each housemate that heard it...

What would it be this time? we'd already recently had what I considered the unbeatable 'The Lion Goes From Strength To Strength!' yelled at about 9am on a Sunday morning.

We played another game of Sensible

And then we heard it, in a loud Irish Accent...

...'Don't Forget The Honey, Mummy!'

And we cracked. Cracked in the way that only two immature Charlie'd up wanker students could.

We were in hysterics, tears, crying, wheezing, giggling like buffoons.

We couldn't stop. I swear, it must have been 15 minutes later when, us still laughing, the door opened and in walked this girl we had never seen before.

She just said, 'I was just on my way home, but I had to come and see what was so funny'

So we explained, she didn't seem too put out, and, in fact, possibly even relieved that she had an explanation for the odd orgasm exclamation.

She was really sweet actually, and she stayed, talking to us, in a lovely, lilting Irish brogue for a good half hour.

I was beginning to think we could actually be friends.

Until the door burst open.

Irish Cassanova walked boldy in, wrapped in just a towel and proudly stated

'Oi, lads, oi've just fucked Terry Wogan's daughter...oh...I thought you'd left...'

She did.


For good.

Shame. It could have been my turn next.
(Tue 3rd Mar 2009, 10:57, More)

» The Credit Crunch

That's gotta hurt
I recently realised that I can't really afford to spend the money I used to spend on going to see Southend play football, as I now live the opposite side of London, so the travel is too expensive (as well as the fact that it's now £25 to watch them - twenty five fucking quid to watch shitty third tier football, it's a digrace, in my day...[insert long rant about rip off football here])


I still like my football fix if I’m at a loose end, so I started to walk down to my local non-league team some Saturday afternoons. A fiver to get in and no travel costs, luvverly.

A few weeks ago, I was standing about 10 yards to the side goal, on a slope, as the away team were coming towards me. The ball came to the forward who lined up a shot that he couldn't miss.

Except, being a shite non-league footballer, he did miss.

By about 10 yards.

It took me a second to realise I was about to get smacked square in the face by the ball, but I just about reacted in time to bend over and spin away.

I guess I kind of expected to still get smacked in the back of the head.

What I certainly didn't expect was to see the ball cannon straight into the face of the 10 year old boy standing behind me up the slope, forcing his hot dog so far into his mouth that Linda Lovelace would have been proud.

I also didn't mean to laugh while he bawled his eyes out.

And I didn't expect to be too scared to go back to the ground since after his Dad told me he didn't want to see my 'fucking face' again.

It's difficult to hide at a non league football ground.

I need something else cheap to do on Saturday afternoons.
(Fri 23rd Jan 2009, 12:36, More)

» Tightwads

My nan...
Years ago, I guess I was about 12, I went to visit my Nan for dinner, but for some reason I was running late, so by the time I let myself in, she was already eating, and, honestly, this plate of meat she was eating was huge, absolutely huge, and my Nan was only a skinny old thing. I actually commented on the size of her meal.

‘I know, but by the time I got in, I was so hungry I felt like I could eat a horse’ she said.

And to be fair, judging by the size of the plate she had, I almost believe that she actually was.

It seemed kind of odd though, because she’d been shopping with my Mum that afternoon and my mum had taken her to lunch at some chain tacky steakhouse thing, Bernies Grill or whatever and had come home moaning that my Nan had had the largest, most expensive steak on the menu. She said something like ‘I don’t know how she did it, but I may as well have just bought her the whole cow’.

Although thinking back, she always did have a voracious appetite, I remember when I was younger we’d been to a Jamaican market somewhere around Brent Cross or somewhere and she’d gone to a food stall and ordered a massive goat curry. At the time I found the idea of goat curry repulsive, but she scoffed it all down in seconds, literally just opened her throat and it was gone.

Still, I shouldn’t have been surprised that she ate the curry given that she lived near a Korean restaurant that was widely rumoured to sell dog meat if you had the right connections, and apparently my Nan did, or at least claimed she did, cos she was always bragging about eating it.

What with that and her willingness to eat take away from the cheapest Chinese on the street, I guess there was nothing that phased her. You know the type of take away I mean, where everyone believes that the serve cat instead of chicken.

What’s absurd is that she also had a taste for the finer things. If someone else was paying she loved nothing better than a stuffed pheasant or some other game bird. She could easily eat a whole one.

My favourite story though, was when she was on holiday somewhere exotic and came back saying she’d eaten tarantula. Christ, my stomach churned at the thought of eating a spider.

Shit, sorry, I am waffling, the point is, despite her food extravagances, she was as tight as a gnats proverbial, she refused to spend even the slightest amount of money on basic hygiene products for example, so her house was this filthy fly ridden dump of a place. Really disgusting, always things buzzing around your head, had to keep swatting them away from your mouth and stuff, it was grim.

When she died after, basically, eating herself to death, it was discovered that she had a tapeworm, hence her appetite.

And how had she contracted that tapeworm?

She’d swallowed a fly.
(Fri 24th Oct 2008, 11:34, More)

» The Dark

I got nothing this week.
But, while I am here, I have to say, I love driving in the dark when it's snowing.

I pretend I am in the Millenium Falcon
(Fri 24th Jul 2009, 13:24, More)
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