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» Dumb things you've done

Dumb kid
When i was about 9 I got stuck up a tree (actually wedged in stuck, not just scared like a cat stuck). The fire brigade were called to rescue me.

When I was 14 I had a pair of Doc Martin steel toecapped boots. I didn't like the yelow thread on the bottom so spent ages cutting it off. It turns out that yellow thread isn't just there for decoration, it holds the sole on.

Just a couple of years ago I was walking home drunk in the middle of winter down a long and dark country lane. I decided to spark up a cigarette for warmth, turning my back against the oncoming wind. Cigarette lit, I carried on walking the way I was facing. Back in to town and where I'd just come from. I nearly cried when I got in 2 hours later than planned, frozen and drunk and really angry with myself for being such a doombrained eejit.
(Thu 20th Dec 2007, 13:54, More)

» Pubs

Mayday Bank Holiday
In my local the Morris Men always stop in for a tankard or two on their Mayday jaunt round town. One year all of the Morris men tension came bubbling to the surface.

There was a drunken row going on between two members of the troupe, with one of them accusing the other of shagging his wife. Then it kicked off. These two guys wearing top hats with flowers on, blacked up faces and covered in bells started fighting each other with sticks. It sounded just the same as a real dance but drew a much bigger audience and more cheers.
(Thu 5th Feb 2009, 22:30, More)

» Crazy Relatives

My Dad's fucking nuts
Once he came to collect me from school and it just happened to be red nose day. My old man walked into the packed but relatively quiet classroom with a big blob of blu-tac on his nose that he'd tried to colour in with a red biro.
(Thu 5th Jul 2007, 20:35, More)

» Stalked

Nuneaton women
Years ago i worked full time in a pub in Nuneaton town centre and being younger, fitter and with hair in those days I used to have a great time flirting (occassionally more) with lady customers. (Having all my own teeth, no facial tattoos and the ability to write both my first name and surname was also a big plus). One night I got chatting to a dirty thirty type who drunkenly proceeded to tell me about he rubbish home life, her brattish kids and her lack of a satisfactory sex life. I must have subliminally implied that I wanted to be with her forever because she came in every night for the next 2 weeks, culminating in the bouncers throwing her out for standing at the bar, clawing at her clothes and screaming 'What's wrong with me? Why won't you fuck me you ungrateful bastard?'. At the bar in a pub with about 500 people in.
She pulled up beside me in a car about 2 years after and told me that I was a fool to let her go. I'm sure she had followed me into the cul-de-sac where I lived. Treacle town ladies are mental.
(Thu 31st Jan 2008, 16:33, More)

» Shit Stories: Part Number Two

Poo! Hooray! Pooray!
I've lost more than my fair share of socks to pub toilets in the past. You notice too late that there is no bog roll and the only thing to do is to make a dirty coprophilic sock puppet to drily gum the marmite off.

I've also had to set fire to a pair of boxer shorts to avoid any prolonged contact to my own effluence. After a weekend bender going mad with the drink and the drugs, I was walking back from a friends when the cramps set in . I was equidistant from both the friends house and my own. I stumbled down a side alley (it was still light) to try and get rid but fell over. I voided my bowels for the first time in two days lying on my side in an alleyway, 6 feet from a main road, at 8pm.
I stood up, pulled my trousers to my ankles and tried to assess the damage. Oh lordy the damage.
In my weak-minded state the only way I could think to get my boxers away from me was to burn them off with my lighter, ripping would mean there had to be stretching and therefore the chance of flinging. I started with the elastic around the top which didn't just melt quickly and easily, it set fire to cheap cotton that surrounded it. It made me do a strange kind of dance that managed to pretty much coat my legs in shit.
I screamed, slapped the flames out and pulled up my jeans.
I tried to walk home without my legs touching each other or the jeans i was wearing.

Overall, it was fucking horrible.

Oh and one morning i shat into a girls tupperware tub i found in her room while she was washing our dirty love stink from her skin in her shower donwnstairs. I put it into a plastic bag and then slipped into the wheelybin.
(Thu 27th Mar 2008, 22:05, More)
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