» Saying the Unsayable

Things that go bump in the night.
I once met a couple at Perth Airport in OZ. We were all waiting for a shuttle bus into the city and ended up sitting next to each other. He was very heard of hearing with two hearing aids, and she was completely deaf- They'd met at a school in America. We discussed where we'd been backpacking and what we planned to see in Australia, that kind of thing. At one point I rather insensitively mentioned how I hadn't quite got used to sleeping in dorm rooms full of other people, and the noise kept me awake. I was informed that this wasn't an issue for them.......because they always got their own room.

We ended up staying at the same hostel that night- they got a double room and I ended up in a dorm room next to it. They were apparently separated by a very thin wall as later that night we were treated to a noise that I can't accurately describe, but try to imagine Chewbacca butchering a live sealion. It went on for what seemed like ages and the inhabitants of the dormitory became quite worried for the poor creature that was making this other-worldly howl.

The couple sat with me while we had breakfast and mentioned that they thought the strange looks they were getting were of an anti-deaf nature and felt quite upset by them. I felt really bad saying that these looks were actually based on the incredibly loud noises his girlfriend made whilst having sex. Him then turning to her and explaining the situation through sign language, and the face she made upon its realisation was something that will haunt me for a fair few years yet.

They checked out about half an hour later.
(Fri 11th Jan 2013, 9:18, More)

» Made me laugh

A product of her environment
One day Mrs Quackblast, a young Korean lady, came home from work looking rather pissed off. I asked her what was up and she related the following story.

She'd popped out for lunch and met a Japanese friend of hers and they were walking off to get some food when a gentleman approached and asked if they had any spare change as he was short on his train fare and urgently had to go and see his parents, (and in no way was going to spend it on drugs or alcohol.)
'Sorry' she says, and they continue on their way.
About 50 metres down the road he shouts after them 'Why don't you fuck off back to China!' to which the missus turned 180 degrees, walked back up to him, stood about a foot from his face and announced through the medium of shouting, in the middle of a packed London street at lunchtime-

'I BET YOUR PARENTS ARE REALLY PROUD THAT THEIR SON GREW UP TO BE A CUNT!'

She wouldn't say boo to a goose when I met her, and was blissfully unaware of the majority of English swear words. It just goes to show the effect of hanging around with a horrible little scrote like me.

Her then telling me that the outburst was such a shock to her Japanese friend that she needed to 'have a nice sit down' only made me laugh the harder. Her continuing to say that yes, she was an immigrant in the country, but she was now a permanent resident, contributed to society and payed a lot of fucking tax, and she was fucked if she was going to let 'some fucking druggie cunt' fucking talk to her like that sent me over the edge.

What have I done to her?
(Fri 7th Dec 2012, 8:35, More)

» Corporate Idiocy

As a fully paid up member of the asthmatical society of Britain,
Every 6 months or so I have to see an 'Asthma Nurse' at my GPs to have a 10 second chat about my inhaler and confirm that I am still alive.

The surgery is about 10 doors down from where I used to work, so I popped in one lunchtime to arrange an appointment. I was informed that they were only arranging appointments over the phone so that people wouldn't have to come into the surgery in the middle of a flu epidemic.

I informed them that as I was standing at the reception in the middle of the surgery already, maybe it would be easier to do it then and there. Nope, rules are rules. If I wanted to make an appointment I'd have to do it over the phone.

I got my mobile out of my pocket and was quickly told that all such devices should be switched off upon entering the building.

So I went outside and made an appointment over the phone with a receptionist I could see through the window standing about eight feet away from me. Upon completion of the phonecall I was invited back into the building to pick up an appointment card, lest I forget the time, day, or even address of the building.

She at no point in all of this gave any sign that she thought this entire endeavour completely ridiculous.
(Sat 25th Feb 2012, 11:45, More)

» Dressing Up

The hallucinogenic qualities of boredom....
12 years ago I shared a house with two old school friends. As I have described elsewhere in various QOTWs, we were slobs who spent any spare time or money in the pub.

One Saturday two of us were sitting at home bored. We had no money or beer and neither would be arriving any time soon. We were so bored in fact that a scouting mission to the corner shop to see what our aggregate worth of £1.62 could get us was suggested. It got us a small pack of face paints and 12 pence. I'm still not sure why we bought them, If I'm being perfectly honest.

We lasted a couple of hours before we cracked them open, and within 10 minutes I was 'Saklar the Firegod'- my face ornately covered in red and yellow zigzags, and my house mate was 'Gooja, spirit of the forest', himself covered in green and black swirls.

We must of spent a couple of hours running around the house, commando rolling where possible or sliding down the stairs, all the while using our 'powers'. We even had the following conversation, which I shall take with me to my grave-

'How come you get to be a god, and I am just a spirit?'
'Because I wield the gauntlet of flame!!'
'Fair enough.'
(The gauntlet of flame was a tatty yellow duster I had tied around my wrist which apparently gave me unlimited fire-type powers. He only had a green and white checked tea towel as some kind of archaic cravat. I didn't do too much, but it did allow him to conjour 'a cooling moss' If my fire powers got out of hand.)

I must remind you that we were still completely sober at this point.

A few hours into our adventure, we started to flag and there came a point where we considered washing it off before our other housemate came home and never speaking of it again. We kept it on. We heard the key in the door and jumped him. He stood there looking at his two friends covered in facepaint, in a house that had clearly staged some kind of battle that, if not exactly between two warring deities, had still managed to knock some furniture over and break a lampshade. It didn't look good, he had that 'WTF?' look that meant our fun was over.

So imagine my surprise when mere minutes later, he was covered in brown and black scales and had transformed into 'Arbokai, lord of beasts'. He was still wearing his suit, and his tie gave him dominion over the beasts of land and air. Arbokai joined us in our titanic struggle that had now spilled over into the park outside. It was still daylight and we didn't care.

COMPLETELY. BLOODY. SOBER.

*Edit- in case this battle between imaginary beings seems somewhat one-sided, I feel I must point out that we agreed that due to the medium of photosynthesis, the more I used my Sun-godly powers, the stronger the Forest spirit became. To make it fair, like.

Also Looking back at it, I think that we had subconsciously hoped that someone else would turn up as we had a load of blue left over and maybe needed a water demon or something. I think that's why Arbokai couldn't control fish.
Edit over*
(Fri 26th Oct 2012, 8:28, More)

» Shops and Supermarkets

'Staff can no longer engage in conversations with Daniel about football on the shop floor'
Waz4444's tale down there reminded me that the shop I once worked in also had a 'employ a local mentally disabled individual to give them more interaction with the public' scheme.

The young fellow who graced our supermarket was called Daniel. He had Down's Syndrome and was about as wide as he was tall- he could lift 25Kg sacks of potatoes like they were bags of crisps. He would challenge anyone and everyone to feats of strength and even once queued up at the checkout on his way out to ask one of the old dears if she wanted to arm wrestle. To accept a this challenge was a shortcut to defeat and pain.

One surefire way of avoiding such contests was to quickly change the subject onto football. Daniel loved football and could only come in every other Saturday for his 4 hours as on the other Saturdays he was taken to watch Tottenham Hotspur at their home games. He once asked me if I thought I could catch a cabbage if he threw it at me as hard as he could. An enquiry into last week's score soon but that one on the backburner.

Until one fateful day. I can only speculate about what happened the Saturday before. I assume that the game had not gone well for Tottenham and a member of the crowd has voiced his anger about it. A week later a challenge was offered and deflected with talk of football.

-"How did Spurs get on last weekend Daniel?"
-"SORRY BUNCH OF CUNTS!!!!"
-"Oh Christ."

This happened every time- You would think, 'It's safe, they won 4-0. He won't say it.' You'd be wrong. We'd make a game of it, calling out to Daniel as you were leaving the shop floor so that hundreds of middle class women would be serenaded with 'SORRY BUNCH OF CUNTS!

Eventually we were told in no uncertain terms to stop this, but Daniel had come out of his shell and would start conversations of his own. (So I guess the social interaction aspect of the project worked) In the end the lady who would come and pick him up announced that Daniel wouldn't be coming back. It turned out that he'd regale the elderly at his care home with his thoughts of the Tottenham squad too.

Years later I heard that Daniel had passed away and my first thought was of him at the pearly gates telling St Peter just what he thought of those eleven men he watched running about a few days before.
(Fri 11th May 2012, 11:10, More)