» * PFFT *

Oh dear, late again.
Anyway, this qotw brought back happy memorys of one of my school trips that occured many moons ago -100 'orrible little 'orrors descending on the french coast.

We were there for a week, and after the first two days, the change in diet (and the freely available beer) had produced drastic results in our limited and inexperienced 14-year-old digestive systems. On the third night, with the atmosphere in the boy's dormitory beginning to etch the windows, we decided to have a bash at that most noble of sports, fart-lighting.

Sadly, I cannot honestly regale you with tales of exploding bowels and singed pants, because in the event, it was a dismal failure. However, I will always treasure the memory of seeing my english teacher's face when he opened the door, gagged at the unholy smell, and stood there trying to piece together a half-rational explanation for the fact that we all appeared to be inserting burning matches into each other's rectums.
C'est la vie.
(Fri 13th Jul 2007, 14:48, More)

» Council Cunts

I nearly nicked myself.
I was rather amused earlier this year to recieve a threatening letter from my local council, stating that I would soon be prosecuted for failing to comply with fire regulations. A neighbor had begun storing petrol inside his shop for the purposes of cleaning , and some dimwit had addressed the warning letter to me instead of to him.

The amusement stemmed from the fact that the letter was supposedly written and signed by a certain fire officer of the local brigade, a nice bloke going by the name of 'incongruous'.

My council therefore managed to put me in the unusual position of threatening to prosecute myself. I almost wish it had gone to court:

"Would the defendant / council for the prosecution please rise and take his anti-schizophrenia medication".

I wonder how many other people I've unwittingly prosecuted?
(Thu 26th Jul 2007, 18:38, More)

» Public Transport Trauma

Left Luggage
Despite being a self-centred and grouchy sort of chap, I used to acknowledge freely that the train companies were doing a fair bit to make travel easier for myself and my spiffy blue wheelchair.

Note the past tense. This all changed last December, when (after both ringing ahead, and altering the train crew to the fact I'd need a ramp) I was left on the platform for 2 hours in London because the train I'd booked to travel on couldn't find foom for me. Finally, I got on a train, bound for Newark, and figured that I was pretty much sorted.

Train arrives in Newark on time. Doors open. No-one arrives to help. I sit wondering whether to chance a desperate leap for freedom. Too late: doors close, and the train moves on.

With great restraint, I point out to the conductor that he and his company are, in fact, elegantly kidnapping me. He - with commendable efficiency - radios ahead to Doncaster and arranges for a taxi to take me home.

Which crashes. 5 miles from my destination.

A short visit to the NHS to have bits of windscreen removed from my face, and I make it home 2 days late.

Next time, I'll just tie the chair to the back of a lorry and enjoy the ride.
(Fri 30th May 2008, 20:10, More)

» Crazy Relatives

Hot Uncle
Amongst the many / varied fruitcakes that constitute my family, Uncle George stands out as a particularly....interesting case. He's a chemistry teacher, and his main eccentricity is his desire to do entertaining experiments with household appliances. His best moment so far was his (unbidden) experiment, designed to illustrate his ideas about biofuels. The great man decided to pour cooking oil in to my mum's toaster and switch in on. One fire extinguisher later, and the nephews are convinced that their uncle is the greatest in the world. My mum, on the other hand, is working out how to have him deported.
(Sat 7th Jul 2007, 16:37, More)

» Why should you be fired from your job?

Do as I do?
I'm a nice responsible fire-safety type person working for a local authority, so my job supposedly entails ensuring the safety of others.

I have scars down my right arm from the time I made weedkiller/sugar fireworks; My old room at my parents' house still has smoke-stains on the wall from my many youthful experiments with household combustibles; I regularly juggle with flaming clubs / sticks / pieces of furniture; I build bonfires that make the Towering Inferno look like a damp barbecue...

and then there's the matter of that little leprechaun who sits on my shoulder and reminds me constantly of how much fun it is to invite nice Mr Fire out for a play.

If they don't fire me, I'm going to end up firing them. Back to Broadmoor we go.


It might be long now, but it'll have burned away before you know it.
(Sun 12th Aug 2007, 8:56, More)