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» Random Acts of Evil
Uncle Terry's Front Door
Uncle Terry was a bit of a spiv, but he was also an inveterate scrounger, which was far worse.
wavy wavy wavy
Post-war Hull was being re-built quickly and cheaply. My Grandfather, my Dad and his four brothers in their teens and twenties were in various trades and thus busy. To be found easily on any day of the week on any of the hundreds of building sites in the city, they were regularly pestered by Uncle Terry who would invariably be after a bit of this or that 'to do up the shed/prefab/pigeon loft' There were few enforcers on these sites so it was evidently easy to nick half a stack of bricks, a few bags of cement, or a tin of paint. Terry would sidle up to one of them, offer them a ciggie and ask for something or other.... Now family loyalties were strong so it was hard to say no. But Terry took the proverbial and three or four times a week he'd be after something. His welcome had worn very thin on the day he asked George for a tin of paint for his front door.
George disappeared to rootle out a tin which was grumpily handed over 'Cheers lad' says Terry and he disappears.
A week passes and Terry's back on the hunt again. Another tin of paint for the front door. 'But you had a tin last week..!?' 'I know but it weren't any good. It went on alright but our Brenda said it made the house stink and a load of flies got stuck in it before it dried so the door needs doing again. And she said she wants it green this time, not brown.'
George says 'shall I not shit in this one then?'
(Wed 22nd Feb 2012, 0:58, More)
Uncle Terry's Front Door
Uncle Terry was a bit of a spiv, but he was also an inveterate scrounger, which was far worse.
wavy wavy wavy
Post-war Hull was being re-built quickly and cheaply. My Grandfather, my Dad and his four brothers in their teens and twenties were in various trades and thus busy. To be found easily on any day of the week on any of the hundreds of building sites in the city, they were regularly pestered by Uncle Terry who would invariably be after a bit of this or that 'to do up the shed/prefab/pigeon loft' There were few enforcers on these sites so it was evidently easy to nick half a stack of bricks, a few bags of cement, or a tin of paint. Terry would sidle up to one of them, offer them a ciggie and ask for something or other.... Now family loyalties were strong so it was hard to say no. But Terry took the proverbial and three or four times a week he'd be after something. His welcome had worn very thin on the day he asked George for a tin of paint for his front door.
George disappeared to rootle out a tin which was grumpily handed over 'Cheers lad' says Terry and he disappears.
A week passes and Terry's back on the hunt again. Another tin of paint for the front door. 'But you had a tin last week..!?' 'I know but it weren't any good. It went on alright but our Brenda said it made the house stink and a load of flies got stuck in it before it dried so the door needs doing again. And she said she wants it green this time, not brown.'
George says 'shall I not shit in this one then?'
(Wed 22nd Feb 2012, 0:58, More)
» Bodge Jobs
Dad's
My Dad died after forty years bodging several jobs round the house. Some of his worst offences, only revealed when we started doing our own repairs after he popped it, include:
- five complete layers of bathroom tiles, one on top of the other, on all four walls, floor to ceiling - the room, small to begin with, was a foot bigger all round when we got them all off. The lazy bugger had fitted new sinks, loos and baths over the years progressively closer together...
- tin foil in every socket in the fusebox and accompanying scorch marks up the wall. (Clearly apprenticed to Fredz Grandad there....;-)..)
- painted a wall without moving the furniture - we found 'hole in the wall' style outlines of a bookshelf, armchair and a plant-stand..... A PLANT-STAND!!!
I mean ffs! And I fell for it when he used to pronounce 'If a job's worth doing, it's worth doing well.'
(Thu 17th Mar 2011, 0:03, More)
Dad's
My Dad died after forty years bodging several jobs round the house. Some of his worst offences, only revealed when we started doing our own repairs after he popped it, include:
- five complete layers of bathroom tiles, one on top of the other, on all four walls, floor to ceiling - the room, small to begin with, was a foot bigger all round when we got them all off. The lazy bugger had fitted new sinks, loos and baths over the years progressively closer together...
- tin foil in every socket in the fusebox and accompanying scorch marks up the wall. (Clearly apprenticed to Fredz Grandad there....;-)..)
- painted a wall without moving the furniture - we found 'hole in the wall' style outlines of a bookshelf, armchair and a plant-stand..... A PLANT-STAND!!!
I mean ffs! And I fell for it when he used to pronounce 'If a job's worth doing, it's worth doing well.'
(Thu 17th Mar 2011, 0:03, More)
» Voyeurism
Manhattan loft...
..was where I stayed with friends using their spare room. Like all the other rooms in the place, mine had no blinds/curtains at the huge plate glass windows. I guessed this was because the occupants of neighbouring buildings were too NY busy/too NY blase to look in. I was back in my room drying off after an afternoon shower - full monty for several minutes; all my bits on display as I got round to dressing. Just as I zipped up, I glanced out to see about sixteen windows on three floors of the building opposite full of gawping men who immediately roared and applauded my reverse strip....!!
Unused to such acclaim I gave them a small bow at which their muffled cheers came again shaking the glass in my window... ooer.
I wasn't tempted to show off again, but there were more than a few of them who waved at me whenever I went into my room. Turns out they were a gay cable-tv channel...
modest to a tee but no apologies for length....
(Sun 14th Oct 2007, 17:09, More)
Manhattan loft...
..was where I stayed with friends using their spare room. Like all the other rooms in the place, mine had no blinds/curtains at the huge plate glass windows. I guessed this was because the occupants of neighbouring buildings were too NY busy/too NY blase to look in. I was back in my room drying off after an afternoon shower - full monty for several minutes; all my bits on display as I got round to dressing. Just as I zipped up, I glanced out to see about sixteen windows on three floors of the building opposite full of gawping men who immediately roared and applauded my reverse strip....!!
Unused to such acclaim I gave them a small bow at which their muffled cheers came again shaking the glass in my window... ooer.
I wasn't tempted to show off again, but there were more than a few of them who waved at me whenever I went into my room. Turns out they were a gay cable-tv channel...
modest to a tee but no apologies for length....
(Sun 14th Oct 2007, 17:09, More)
» Mad Stuff You've Done To Get Someone To Sleep With You
Accidental Trade
I was young free and single, living in London, scraping a small wage but enjoying occasional nights out on the (then) glittering London Gay Scene in the mid-90s.
One evening, in a favoured West-End venue, the proceedings were unusually finessed.
I arrived moments before the witching hour when they started charging the entrance fees, bought one drink, walked to the dance floor to have a look at the gyrations. After two minutes, I leaned forward to get a better view - and my lips happened to brush the beautiful torso of a passing muscle mary. Mistaking this for a rather forward come-on, he smiled, I smiled, he chatted, I chatted and two minutes later we left for my flat.
Cost of getting into club - nil; Cost of lubricating drink - £3; The guileless absence of the extortion and games in this week's other posts - priceless!
At least up to this point....
The evening got better as I climbed into his glamorous Merc parked conveniently nearby, and he drove me home - top down, music full-on. None of the usual waiting for the nightbus, or trying to get a cab. We made a pretty glamorous pair as we parked in a well-lit side street near my Hackney flat and ascended for a memorable night of athletic rumpy-pumpy. You could have bounced pennies off every inch of naked flesh! I had been until recently, and was again - in Heaven.
We woke up next morning both of us pleasantly tired but glowing. Blissful! Washed and refreshed we ambled down, planning to get a leisurely breakfast - until the moment he let out a very high pitched squeal ( ..proper mary he turned out to be!)
His car had gone.
We spent the next tortuous hour discovering that a. Hackney council had introduced parking restrictions for the very first time in that area - at 2pm the previous day, b. he'd been towed, and c. it was going to cost £110 to get his car back!!
I remember an awkward conversation in which I feebly excused myself for not knowing about the new fines, a short walk to my nearest cash point and the very distinct flip-flop in my stomach as I handed over the £55 I couldn't afford... you could get proper trade for half that!!
Means we both paid dearly for that night of passion - so easy, so straightfoward, so memorable - and oh, so costly!!
Length, girth and everything else - unspeakably large and firm for a first post!
(Tue 17th Apr 2007, 15:59, More)
Accidental Trade
I was young free and single, living in London, scraping a small wage but enjoying occasional nights out on the (then) glittering London Gay Scene in the mid-90s.
One evening, in a favoured West-End venue, the proceedings were unusually finessed.
I arrived moments before the witching hour when they started charging the entrance fees, bought one drink, walked to the dance floor to have a look at the gyrations. After two minutes, I leaned forward to get a better view - and my lips happened to brush the beautiful torso of a passing muscle mary. Mistaking this for a rather forward come-on, he smiled, I smiled, he chatted, I chatted and two minutes later we left for my flat.
Cost of getting into club - nil; Cost of lubricating drink - £3; The guileless absence of the extortion and games in this week's other posts - priceless!
At least up to this point....
The evening got better as I climbed into his glamorous Merc parked conveniently nearby, and he drove me home - top down, music full-on. None of the usual waiting for the nightbus, or trying to get a cab. We made a pretty glamorous pair as we parked in a well-lit side street near my Hackney flat and ascended for a memorable night of athletic rumpy-pumpy. You could have bounced pennies off every inch of naked flesh! I had been until recently, and was again - in Heaven.
We woke up next morning both of us pleasantly tired but glowing. Blissful! Washed and refreshed we ambled down, planning to get a leisurely breakfast - until the moment he let out a very high pitched squeal ( ..proper mary he turned out to be!)
His car had gone.
We spent the next tortuous hour discovering that a. Hackney council had introduced parking restrictions for the very first time in that area - at 2pm the previous day, b. he'd been towed, and c. it was going to cost £110 to get his car back!!
I remember an awkward conversation in which I feebly excused myself for not knowing about the new fines, a short walk to my nearest cash point and the very distinct flip-flop in my stomach as I handed over the £55 I couldn't afford... you could get proper trade for half that!!
Means we both paid dearly for that night of passion - so easy, so straightfoward, so memorable - and oh, so costly!!
Length, girth and everything else - unspeakably large and firm for a first post!
(Tue 17th Apr 2007, 15:59, More)
» Performance
Get 'em on!
Pearoast.....
A sprawling Manhattan loft was where I holidayed with friends using their spare room. Like all the other rooms in the place, mine had no blinds/curtains, just huge plate glass windows. I guessed this was because the occupants of neighbouring buildings were too NY busy/too NY blase to look in. I was back in my room drying off after an afternoon shower - full monty for several minutes, all my bits on display as I got round to dressing. Just as I zipped up, I glanced out to see the windows on three floors of the building opposite hung with gawping men who immediately roared and applauded my reverse strip....!!
Slightly mortifed I gave them a small wave at which their muffled cheers came again shaking the glass in my window... ooer!
I wasn't tempted to show off again, but more than a few of them hooted over at me whenever I went into my room after that. Turns out they were a gay cable-tv channel... I could have made a fortune!
modest to a tee but no apologies for length....
(Fri 19th Aug 2011, 12:38, More)
Get 'em on!
Pearoast.....
A sprawling Manhattan loft was where I holidayed with friends using their spare room. Like all the other rooms in the place, mine had no blinds/curtains, just huge plate glass windows. I guessed this was because the occupants of neighbouring buildings were too NY busy/too NY blase to look in. I was back in my room drying off after an afternoon shower - full monty for several minutes, all my bits on display as I got round to dressing. Just as I zipped up, I glanced out to see the windows on three floors of the building opposite hung with gawping men who immediately roared and applauded my reverse strip....!!
Slightly mortifed I gave them a small wave at which their muffled cheers came again shaking the glass in my window... ooer!
I wasn't tempted to show off again, but more than a few of them hooted over at me whenever I went into my room after that. Turns out they were a gay cable-tv channel... I could have made a fortune!
modest to a tee but no apologies for length....
(Fri 19th Aug 2011, 12:38, More)