» Cringe!

Other edited lowlights
1. Attending a New Year's party & whilst the female of the house was searching for a CD on all fours, crawling up behind her to get a great view of her (admittedly sumptuous) arse & exclaiming "Dear me, that's fantastic"....

2. Wanking to hotel porn in a hotel room in Northampton at 4am whilst minging with drink, with my best mate in the other bed in the room, and shouting "Come you bastard" at my cock, because it wouldn't work due to the beer. I'm sure the people in the next bedroom were happy...

3. Pulling in Exeter & shagging a woman who was classy enough to at least dismount when she answered the phone call from her boyfriend wondering where she was......

All of which are now stories told with regularity & increasing exaggeration by my mates. The hotel wanking one has been known to last half an hour with minute detail.

EDIT - full version now in reply.
(Fri 28th Nov 2008, 9:01, More)

» Complaining

Sale of Goods Hell
This is a reproduction of a letter (Minus a name or two here & there to protect the innocent) which was sent to the Chief Constable of Durham Police. I used to have a photocopy of the original letter in my possession. I have no reason to doubt its authenticity.

Its reasonably long, but it just gets better & better!!



Dear Sir,

30th April 2001

On the 30th March 2001, I paid the male proprietor of Eastbourne Electrics, Skinnergate, Darlington, £10-00 as a deposit for 2 (two) lantern batteries. The proprietor issued me with receipt no. 14424 and stated that the 2 batteries would be ready within 14 days.
To-day, Monday 30th April 2001, I visited Eastbourne Electrics, Skinnergate , Darlington between noon and 12.30 pm and asked for the batteries.
The male proprietor at first said “The batteries have not come in yet”.
I said “I would like my £10-00 back”
The proprietor immediately said “the batteries may come in on Tuesday or Thursday this week”
I again demanded my money back. At this point the proprietor then said “the batteries may be in my store-room at the back of the shop”
I again demanded my money back. The proprietor then said “Your not getting it!!”
At this point I said “I am a retired Magistrates Clerks assistant and I am going to tell the police about this”
The proprietor screamed in reply “ON YOUR BIKE!”
I left the shop.

Sir, I would like one of your police officers, or, Darlington Borough Council Trading standards to attempt to obtain the return of my £10-00 please.

My name may be familiar to recipients of this missive, as for many years I was a Senior clerk, according to the “written establishment list” at Darlington County Petty Sessional Division and Darlington Borough Magistrates Court.

By the way, as is known to Durham Constabulary, in early 1983, I made a very serious attempt to kill myself, in fact, I was unconscious for one week. The reason for this suicide attempt, and this was the sole reason, was an application sent to the Magistrates Courts Committee for the County of Durham, by a typist employed at Darlington Magistrates Court by the name of Miss [name removed], who had once worked under me at the Court.

The nature of the written demand sent to Durham County Magistrates Committee by [Name removed] , supported by her trade union, was that, she was entitled to
i) My grade on the Establishment at my Court
ii) My salary

I do not know any of the grounds for [name removed] demands to the Clerk of Durham Magistrates Committee.

[name Removed] cost me:-

i) My career
ii) My Health
iii) And was responsible for my descent into alcoholism.


By the way , it is well known in Circles in the metropolis, including Fleet Street / Wapping, that I met, and spoke to the Devil, in the flesh, several times after June 1983, and because of this fact I have sent a copy of this letter to a Priest in my parish as I
i) have no family to speak of
ii) have six serious illnesses
iii) wish to be buried AND NOT [underlined] cremated, perhaps at the expense of the Roman catholic church.


By the way SIR, if you send a police officer to [address removed] with the £10-00 which I am owed, please ensure it is NOT [underlined 3 times]

Detective Police Constable “Tony” Kennedy of “CID Intelligence”

As “Tony” is NOT [underlined twice] the aforesaid Police Officer’s Christian name, and of course , it is, of course, an offence for a Police Officer to consistently, and continually, use a false name for over 20 (TWENTY) years.

I remain your obedient servant.

Yours faithfully etc
(Fri 3rd Sep 2010, 10:46, More)

» Cringe!

Sleepwalking
Dear me, I could fill 10 pages by myself.

Usually drink-related natch.

Around 15 years ago, when imbibed I would tend to sleepwalk, usually (but not always) when looking for the bog. I was at my worst during the period I shared a house with 2 mates.

Amongst other incidents, I climbed into bed with a lad who was staying downstairs on a camp bed, saying I needed to share with him as "The authorities had kicked me out of my bed". The reason for this eviction by officialdom remained a mystery.

But the crowning glory was returning home after yet another unsuccessful night out on the pull to retire to my wanking pit for another night's drink-induced slumber.

One of my housemates HAD pulled though (well he had met her the previous week, this was date 3, but she had come back to the house for the 1st ever time) and he was happily ensconced in the adjacent bedroom to mine.

An hour or so passes & it's time for Worthless to go walkies. I stumbled out of my bedroom door & instead of carrying on straight ahead, I turned left, opened the door and turned on the light.

The happy couple were greeted with the sight of me, a pair of socks, an inane drunken grin & f**k all else.

Well, except my piss-hard-on.

My housemate shouted at me once or twice & eventually turned me round & directed me to the bog, before returning to his new squeeze to explain.

To her eternal credit, she didn't flee, as she may have been entitled to do, they've got two kids now.

No, she laughed like a f**king drain.

Probably because I've got a kid's cock.

*Apologies for socks*
(Thu 27th Nov 2008, 21:05, More)

» Ginger

Redheads - Always dangerous
The sage advice of my brother having split up with the firefanny that over a period of 10 months managed to empty my bank account whilst travelling the country fucking other blokes at my expense.

Long story.

Trouble is, I can't get enough of the ginge, especially the mental ones.

There'd be little difference between Florence Welsh's tits and a decorator's radio if I had my way.
(Fri 26th Feb 2010, 13:22, More)

» Family codes and rituals

Bathtime
Leaving the bath water for the next person to use. Well I suppose it was the 70s, and our water was heated by an immersion, so hardly the most efficient method.

Usually there was enough hot left for a top up.

I never seemed to get first go though, I was always bathing in grime, whereas everyone else used to be able to manoeuvre a position to be able to use virgin water.

Perhaps it was because I am the youngest by some margin.

Perhaps it was because I used to regularly piss in it.
(Fri 21st Nov 2008, 10:34, More)