» Turning into your parents

While shopping for warm clothes in February
I came across a nice Marks and Spencer striped woolly jumper, just my size, for three quid in a charity shop. 'Bargain!' I said and snapped it up. I took it home, tried it on and I was really happy with it.

Last week, I took my daughter to see my parents on the other side of town.

'Nice jumper Noel,' said my mum as I came in the house.

'Cheers! It was a bargain. Only three quid from a charity shop. M&S too!'

'Let me guess: British Heart Foundation? A month or two ago?' she asks.

'Um, yeah. How'd you know that?'

'I was having a spring clean and gave some clothes to charity. That jumper used to belong to your father.'

My dad has an incredibly jaded taste in clothes.

My daughter pointed and laughed.
(Fri 1st May 2009, 7:59, More)

» Letters they'll never read

Dear QOTW users,
We get some good questions, we get some bad questions. Sometimes we get heartfelt, amusing or interesting answers, sometimes we get trolling, utter lies and a whole page of 'First lol'. Often, we get bitching and whining about shit questions, or people running to the mods because someone's been nasty to them online. On behalf of the good people of QOTW, I implore those that would bitch and whine and mod-gaz: man the fuck up, switch your internet off and go and do something less boring instead.

Lots of love,
(Thu 4th Mar 2010, 14:22, More)

» Letters they'll never read

Dear you.
When we met I thought you were really sweet. The first few times we exchanged banter I knew you had a boyfriend and kept my distance accordingly. That time a few weeks later when I bumped into you in the pub, you told me you'd split up with him and we ended up getting pissed in the park and snogging, I bounced around like crazy when you left. Finally, someone was interested in me, she was fun and sexy and obviously into me.

When you called me a couple of weeks later telling me your dad had kicked you out, I said you could stay with me for a few days until you got your shit together. You came and stayed, and climbed into my bed that first night and did naughty things to me and I was elated and instantly hooked. After so long alone, someone wanted me.

A few weeks on, you told me you were pregnant. As you'd said you were on the pill this came as a huge shock, but I told you I'd stick by you because it felt like I loved you and I thought it was The Right Thing To Do. A scan revealed you were carrying twins which was also shocking and terrifying but I stuck by you.

A few weeks passed and you came to me while I was at lunch and told me you'd had a miscarriage. I was gutted, of course, so you comforted me by telling me it was ok, you'd got pregnant again. I remember almost fainting with confusion there in the sunshine and my brain screaming at me that this was all wrong, that you were crazy, flashing back to a few nights previously where we'd had sex and we lay in each other's arms and you asked what I'd do if you lost the babies and I told you I'd prefer to wait for two or three years until we got a stable financial footing before trying again for kids, especially as we'd only really been together ten weeks. I deflected these warning sirens because I was In Love and dedicated and it was The Right Thing To Do.

When things progressively went to shit, when your lies became more obvious and started eating away at my soul, when you started being confrontational and argumentative and just downright nasty, I stuck with it because you were carrying our child and my blind determination that I'd continue to support that child no matter what drove me to ignore the bad things and try to stick with you.

The day we went to hospital to bring our daughter into the world, I loved you more than anything I've ever loved despite all the shit. I loved you right up until she slithered noisily into this world and you told the doctor to give her straight to me when she was all cleaned-up. I took hold of her and her bright blue eyes looked straight into mine and pierced my soul. I put the tip of my little finger in her mouth and as her first action in a cruel world she suckled on my fingertip and captured my heart forever. At that moment all my love for you drained away and transformed into my paternal instinct.

For the first two weeks of her life I did every single one of our daughter's night feeds to give you a rest and let you recover from the birth. This was the only time I had alone with her and I'd sit up in our mattress and feed her quietly while you slept, all the time staring in awe and this tiny bundle of wonder we'd made from so much hurt.

In the storm after the calm, once the shine had worn off, I spent a long time trying to bolster myself for the long haul. Every fight we had was put aside, every lie I caught you out on was brushed under the carpet and not brought up. Unfortunately my resolve became weaker and weaker as I was worn down, things got worse for both of us and we had some truely horrible fights, sometimes physically bruising but always mentally scarring.

Ultimately my resolve broke and I called time on the relationship, a week before our daughter's first birthday. At her Christening and birthday party we carried on as if everything was ok, while at home we argued about who should move out and who should get the kitchen implements. When you finally left for good you walked out of the house and down the path with our daughter over your shoulder looking back at me and that image is as clear in my mind now as that moment.

In the years that followed you ripped every spare quid out of me. You bullied me and threatened to stop me seeing our daughter if I didn't bow to your wishes. You pushed me and pulled me and tricked me and twisted me and I just got on with fortnightly weekend visits and paid my way and loved those smiling bright blue eyes that pierced my being every time they locked with mine.

A few years later and you split up with your guy and took off to the other side of the country I missed our daughter like mad but paid my way. When you had a medical emergency and daughter ended up coming back here and living with her step-dad, I supported that. When you didn't come to get her, I was surprised but secretly quite pleased. When you finally returned and scrabbled around desperate for some mug to dig your claws into and give you a roof over your head, I revelled quietly in the irony. When you finally pissed him off and moved onto the next poor sap, I pitied you. When you'd sucked out his soul and moved out into a proper house and finally got our daughter back, I thought it might work. When you got kicked out of that house and moved in with yet another humble, supportive nice guy, I diligently took our daughter every fortnight, got my 'fix' and delivered her back into your care again, unquestioningly.

When our daughter told me things about you and your behaviour and your treatment of her and her siblings, it tore me apart inside but all I could do was tell her I was there for her if she needed me. When we were out walking once and she told me how scared she'd been of you when you held her brother down and screamed in his face and she sobbed in my arms while trying to form the words, I knew change probably wasn't very far away. When it finally came, I did what I knew I must do, what I promised I'd and took our daughter in. Eleven months later, after many meetings with social services and solicitors and organising access and having that access cancelled by you at short notice, I can confidently say that you're gradually pushing our daughter further and further away from you. Don't get me wrong, she's pretty happy and resilient and strong and forward-thinking and it bugs the shit out of me that she still wants anything to do with you despite how you've treated her, but she's free to do what she needs to be happy and I'll never stand in her way.

It took me a long time to get past all that happened between us. I wouldn't change it for the world because we made the most beautifully wonderful human being in the history of the earth and she makes me so proud every single day. I just hope that you can come to terms with who you are before you throw away the chance to be part of our daughter's life forever.
(Fri 5th Mar 2010, 14:27, More)

» Workplace Boredom

I work at an airport
and thanks to the 'credit crunch' there's been a noticeable drop in the amount of work in Baggage Handling, leaving me and my mate Bob plenty of time to piss about.

On Friday, we decided to race baggage carts between gates 31 and 32. First one around the undercarriage and back wins.

We were neck and neck coming up to the nose gear, so I tried to swing across and give Bob a dead arm.

Bob saw what was coming, and swerved out of the way... right into the fucking Airbus.

There's a massive gash in the fuselage, and we're both on suspension :(
(Wed 14th Jan 2009, 16:39, More)

» Nightclubs

A post-nightclub story, if you'll indulge me...
Bar Central had two major advantages – they played rock, metal and punk instead of the puerile commercial house and trance everywhere else was playing, and the clientele were somewhat more down-to-earth than your average nightclub rude boy or slapper.

Our story finds us an hour into a Saturday night event. The room was filling nicely and I sipped my San Miguel as I observed the multitude of styles and fashions the people at the rock club had to offer.

My friends and I were expecting Mark to arrive any time now. He was bringing a girl he'd met online. He'd not met her before and we took the piss somewhat, joking she'd turn out to be a twenty-stone rubber-clad man. But we were wrong.

Mark came in and waved, towing behind him a pretty, short rock chick. I was impressed but not surprised; Mark had a way with the ladies.

With introductions made, Jess did the rounds and had a shouted conversation with all of us in turn. I found her to be interesting, funny and intelligent – three major turn-ons for me, but I put that to the back of my mind as she spent most of the night sucking face with Mark.

After a few beers and many dances the night drew to a close. I'd had a good night and got a nice buzz on, but heading back to the cars I started feeling mischievous, so I started some banter with Mark and Jess.

"You guys are gonna get some tonight!" I supposed.

"Nah, my folks are home, and you can hear a mouse fart through the walls in my house," said Mark, obviously disappointed.

"Well, if you want to come back to my place, the three of us can have a joint and see what happens?" I joked, rubbing Mark's thigh for effect.

"YES!" shouted Jess, startling the collected company. Mark glared at her - if looks could kill, she'd probably have at least a broken nose and a black eye. She smiled at me, kissed Mark to placate him and squeezed his arse as she bundled him into the back seat

I could hear Mark and Jess talking over the Incubus CD playing in the car, but couldn't quite hear what they were saying. There certainly seemed to be some protest from Mark, with Jess trying to calm him down.

Jess tapped me on the shoulder and winked and nodded at me when I turned around. My trousers twitched as it occurred to me that Jess really was up for some double-team action.

We got dropped-off at my place and I cracked open some beers and rolled a joint. After a few puffs and passes we retired to the living room and sat on the sofa with Jess in the middle. She kissed Mark, then turned to kiss me, then back to Mark again. Hands started wandering as we became more aroused.

Mark wasn't happy, though. He jumped up off the sofa and put his hands to his head, blurting "This is freaking me out, man!" and running out of the room. Five seconds later the front door slammed and we heard footsteps going down the gravel driveway, and we were alone.

I felt guilty, but we laughed and carried on kissing and sharing the joint. Things moved along at quite a pace and soon enough we're naked and joined at the hip making sweet, stoned love.

I'll tell you something: I really enjoyed myself. She was fun, energetic and dirty, and we made the most of our time together. And, she was the only woman I've ever met who had an eight-inch flap-span.

During our third or fourth outing, her phone beeped a text message announcement, and I giggled. "Poor Mark," I said, kissing her gently.

"I didn't want him anyway," she said. "I've had my eye on you all night - I've always been a bit of a chubby chaser."

Now, I'll be the first to admit that I'd put on some weight over the previous year – maybe fifteen kilos – but I was a little offended at being called 'fat' while lying there, plugging away.

And that's when I realised that trying to work out your BMI in your head is an excellent delaying technique.
(Sat 11th Apr 2009, 17:17, More)