» We have to talk

My Dad
and I never really had the 'father-son talks.'

When I first having sex, and my mother decided that we should have 'the talk' it went something like this...

Dad: Son-
MrTeapot: Dad, I know what your going to say, can we pretend like it we've already discussed this?
Dad: Works for me.
(Sat 21st Apr 2007, 2:15, More)

» Pathological Liars

Post Office
I used to work at a fantastic local pub in a quiet street in suburban London. It was about five minutes away from anything anyone could possibly want; shopping centre, local business, office, so it's evenings were packed and the pub made good money, but was still a locals establishment with a great stock of characters.

The best of them was it's own Manager. He would lie about anything, since his job was to sit, drink and entertain anyone with his enormous collection of enormous stories.

Because some of his stories were credible, Phil Taylor had challenged him to a game of darts - I've seen pictures, celebs from Eastenders have been regulars in the pub quiz - my eyes have seen it, it gave him the upper hand in the game of lying.

I worked there for about a year and a half or so, pretty much constantly. I'd work a couple of nights a week, as well as opening up during the days. Over that time I learnt the unspoken rule.

If he said he was going to the Post Office, that meant he was off to shag his bird and we should cover for him when the wife came home. I don't know whether he expected us to tell his wife that exact reason, because he would disappear for hours, sometimes out for the whole day. We joked with the punters, who said there must have been a pub in Newcastle called 'the Post Office'. Sometimes he'd mix up the routine and say the Dry Cleaners instead, but quickly dropped it when he came back empty handed.

I remember my favourite night at that pub. The boss had disappeared at lunch, I finished early, stayed there drinking, and had a couple after hours with the other staff. We were just finishing the last inches when Boss came staggering through the door, in boxers with his trousers draped over his arm, cigar to top it off.

There was a pause, he looked at us slightly confused, his brain taking its time processing the situation. Finally he shrugged and muttered the magic words "Post Office."
(Sat 1st Dec 2007, 23:01, More)

» God

Confirmation Name
I got into the whole Jesus shindig rather late, all I wanted was the bread and wine (less so the bread).

I started working in a Church doing the microphones and tech stuff and became more involved. Soon I decided to go up for communion (give me the wine dammit) and was refused as I hadn't been confirmed - blessing instead.

So I started classes once a week for a few months. Then a load of us in the area got confirmed together by the Big Bishop, had the ceremony, got the wine and then headed into the back room for post-service sandwiches and a chat.

Now without the full regalia, robes and hat, Bishops look very different. I didn't recognise mine when he began chatting to me, I just thought he was another Church Joe.

"Have you decided on a Confirmation Name?"

I hadn't. I thought for a moment.

"Probably Bob or Jim, dunno really."

"It really should be a Biblical Name."

"Any name from the Bible?"

"Sure."

"Well then, it's a toss up between Jesus and Lucifer then."
(Thu 19th Mar 2009, 15:43, More)

» Dumped

Not what she was expecting...
After the beginnings of the recession, my girlfriend and I had to leave our flat and move in with our respective parents again. Unfortunately, my girlfriend of 3 years couldn't get a job in the barren wasteland that was oop north, whereas I quickly found agency work with long hours and shit pay.

We made occasional trips to places, she came down for a couple of weeks at a time, only returning north to sign on again. I only went to her place once in our entire relationship - her family were not normal, but that's not for this qotw.

Anyway, I soon found my eye wandering, she was out of sight and mind for weeks at a time, apart from the the odd telephone call, there was little preventing me from seeing this lovely lady round the corner. After a kiss, things got a little serious, I weighed up the options and decided to do the honourable thing and go up to see the soon-to-be ex.

I needed to do it now, 'cos next weekend it will be her birthday and you don't want to be a douche and break-up with her on her birthday.

What I missed completely was that it was the middle of February, the only day I could go up was Saturday. The 14th.

I've got a pretty good memory with public transport, so even though I'd only taken that trip once, I knew which bus and vaguely the right stop. I saw the Chinese take-away place we went to on the corner and remembered how grim everything was up north. This was her road alright.

What I'm useless with are door numbers.

So that's how I ended up outside my girlfriend's window on Valentine's evening, break-up flowers at the ready and called her asking her to look out her bedroom window.

(Not only did this help confirm it was her house, but also checked if she was actually home so I didn't have to talk to her parents at the door)

Oh man. She was so happy for like 2 minutes tops.
(Thu 3rd Jan 2013, 21:46, More)

» Buses

The 484 again.
There was always going to be a long traffic queue on the hill at 4:30. There is basically one way of getting into town from that general direction and when school is out all across the borough absolutely everyone is trying to get over that hill.

Often drivers would sneak round and try entering the stream of cars through smaller residential roads. Obviously everyone else has thought of that resulting in more clogged arteries.

Once while I was on a packed out bus, with another packed out bus behind that one, coming over the hill. Our driver was the awesome Jamaican guy who would tell everyone as they got on "hold tight, mon" regardless of the state of movement the bus was currently in. Such as this point...

"Hold tight, now."

...as the bus crept forward.

We eventually reached the opening of a side road. Before it was considered naughty to drive on the phone, there was some twazzack in a little yellow car trying to worm his way out of a side road. He passed a couple of other cars, who were patiently waiting to be let out, driving two wheels onto the pavement, forcing his way to the front.

Not on. Our driver called him a boombaclat if I remember correctly. There was a space opening in front, the bus driver waved him forward, letting the yellow car commit to the movement, then he shouted back to us all.

"Hold tight, for real."

And slammed on the accelerator. The yellow car managed to stop inches away from us in the windows. The driver opened the doors and waved the patiently waiting cars forward to box the prick in.

The bus moved on slowly, the bus behind us was right up the exhaust pipe. With no room to move back, no room to move forward and no gaps appearing, the yellow twazzock had to sit there and yell.

We could see him from the bottom of the hill as we turned the corner.
(Sat 27th Jun 2009, 15:46, More)