» Rubbish Towns

Too many to mention
I was born and brought up in Nuneaton. It's main focal point is a landfill that dominates the skyline, and the council built a ring road through the middle of the town centre and allowed two out of town style supermarkets to be built in the middle of town.
Everyone has been through Nuneaton on the train, only the foolish have ever got off.
For years nightclubs had to provide food in order to get a late licence and a lasting legacy of this is hot dog vendors INSIDE at least two of the two's clubs now.
It really is a shit hole, which has named everything they could after Mary Ann Evans, a woman who pretended to be a man to gain fame. Very little is names after its other famous 'son' Larry Grayson, a man who acted like a woman to gain fame.
Shows what a twisted little town it is.
However, after leaving Nuneaton, I moved to Redditch. The most inbred and backwards place I have ever seen. It was horrid, the people were horrid, the buildings were horrid and no night club would allow admission after 11pm. Bloody bizarre shitty little place.
I moved to Rugby next, which was ok, apart from the sheer number of rugby teams in the town, meaning lots of groups of 15 strong men in too tight short sleeve shirts out on the piss every Saturday night, and fighting each other in the town centre at kicking out time.
I gets worse though, much worse.
I then moved to work in Bolton, but lived with my Nan in Swinton, combining the worst of both places. Swinton is over-run with tiny skinny chavs in fake Burberry, Bolton over run with larger proper northern double hard bastards who hit the pub when work finishes at 3 and don't leave until they get kicked out.
After that I moved to Lower Broughton, in Salford and lived in fear. Every day I was scared my ground floor flat had been broken into. Three times in six months it was, and once the locks were changed by the gas board who had broken into my flat to turn the gas off for the people upstairs! The Griffin pub there was the scariest pub I have ever been in.
I then lived in Rusholme and Moss Side before I was forced to move again through work and there was only one place possible that could be worse than the places I had lived previously. Hull.
Within a month I had been burgled, had a flaming rag pushed through my door (the target was my neighbour, the arsonists were idiots) and had been mugged at knifepoint in a pizza shop at 3am.
From there I moved to Leeds. It is lovely in comparison to everywhere else I have lived.
Has anyone lived in a worse combination of shitholes?
(Thu 29th Oct 2009, 14:32, More)

» Flirting

Here comes the really good bit
I had gone out in a rush, and was not sure if it was obvious to everyone. There was a girl looking over at me a lot, and I was still in my work clothes.
I'm no good at talking to members of the opposite sex, I start to talk, they start to look perplexed.
So I kept my eyes on the prize, and stole a glance at her breasts, I walked over and with clumsy rhyming couplets, asked her a few questions and asked her to dance.
Then her friends decided she was leaving but she decided she was not going, she told me she had been looking over a lot, and hoped it was obvious. She also admitted that he was not much cop at talking to the opposite sex and followed pretty much the same ritual as I did before we spoke.
(Fri 19th Feb 2010, 21:21, More)

» Housemates

Bloody women
I shared a house in Manchester with six student nurses. They managed to outwit nature by syncronising their periods in an unusual way. Rather than all being on at once, they somehow managed to ensure that at least one of them was on at any given time. The PMT that went with it was unpredicatble in its timing or viciousness. It really was hellish.
All my mates thought sharing with student nurses would be briliant, but it turned out that some of them were totaly prick teases, who would cop off with a bloke in a club, bring him home and then rely on me to tell him to sling his hook.
The worst of the girls was a militant veggie who I once caught eating chicken off the carcass at 4am. She also tried to pay her rent by using the house account chequebook three times.
(Tue 3rd Mar 2009, 14:34, More)

» Bullies

It was all my dad's fault
On starting at big school as a very small boy, just turned 11, I was fully expecting to be bullied.
My dad took me to one side just before I left to school and told me 'Bulies are cowards, they hang around in gangs, and only pick on people who will not stand up for themselves. If you are being bullied by a gang, have a pop at the smallest one.'
My two elder sisters walked me to school and filled me with horror stories about het boys in thier years who would be terrorising the new kids from that day onwards, even going as far as pointing out 'bullies' as we got to the school gates.
On the first break of the first day, I was wondering around the school on my own when I spotted a ganag of bullies my sisters had pointed out to me that morning.
They came marching over towards me, and I was bloody terrified. The biggest one came up to me and started talking at me. I was too terrified to really hear what he was saying and instead just went flying in on the smallest member of the gang, fists and kicks flying. I knocked him down, and carried on pummelling away, as the rest of the bullies tried to drag me off.
Well, I say bullies, but they were actually my sister's boyfriend and his mates, who were seeking me out to show me around, at the request of my sister.
Word got around of my unprovoked attack, and many kids saw me as a pyscho that should be avoided, while other kids, who were clearly far harder than me, saw me as a target to prove their own pyschoness against.
(Tue 19th May 2009, 17:59, More)