» Babysitters

not quite babysitting, not quite being a nonce
I took my then 9 year old daughter up the local town park last summer and we had a bit of a kick-about, jumpers for goalposts etc, and we were having much fun, with my comedy goalkeeping and running commentary.
As the time passed, we got a few lookers on behind the goal, and eventually, after the kids had plucked up the courage to ask to join in, we ended up with a situation of having 9 or 10 kids (various ages, both sexes)playing one goal and through, with me between the sticks, still doing the commentary and cheating outrageously to keep them amused.
Two hours into this fest of football, two community support officers came around the corner and asked me if one of the kids was called Frankie, well one was called Frankie, a young lass who was happily trouncing the lads at football, and bloody loving it.
Frankie had been due home an hour and a half ago, and her parents had been (rightfully) worried that she hadn't come home.
Bearing in mind we were in an extremely crowded public park, having a loud and energetic football-a-thon, the fake coppers proceeded to interrogate me as to my intentions towards the kids, how many were mine (!) what their names were (I had gotten all their names for the sake of my commentary) and basically made me feel like a massive paedophile for encouraging a group of kids who hadn't previously known each other (not all of them turned up together of course) to enjoy a game of football, make new friends, all in good fun and all the while entertaining my own daughter, who was having the time of her life with all these new friends and watching her dads comedy dives letting in absolute daisy shots and the like.
Never been made to feel so fucking small and dangerous, all because I supervised a bunch of kids in a Sunday afternoon kick about. Fucking cunting coppers could SEE what was going on, bellends, and I had no objections to them taking Frankie back home (the bit of their job they did well) but no need to make me out to be a dangerous nutter.
So, fuck babysitting, If I cant spend a few hours in the sun kicking a ball with all the dangerous intentions of letting a few soft shots in, then kids can fuck off. Along with community support wankers in their yellow coats up their own arses wankers. Fucked if I want to be left alone with one, I'll probably get arrested for tucking the cunts in!
/BITTER AS FUCK ABOUT IT!
(Thu 28th Oct 2010, 16:42, More)

» Road Trip

Planes, Trains, Automobiles and Volcano's
OMG WORDS-stay with me folks, this is an epic!

Last year, there was a group of 10 of us on the way to Puerto Banus,in Southern Spain for the Boss' stag do.
We arrived at the airport in Birmingham in timely fashion, and loitered around waiting for the check in to open.
As we waited we noticed an unusually large presence of heavily armed security and police, which we kind of commented on but pretty much ignored, knowing that in a few short hours we would be hammered and surrounded by fit birds.
Talking of fit birds, who is this tiny china doll goddess approaching us in airline uniform? It's Cassie, she seems lovely, I wonder what she's going to say?
"I'm sorry, the flights are all cancelled due to the Volcano in Iceland".
The airline had clearly hedged their bets, and had sent a very pretty young thing who no one could possibly shout at, it would be like bollocking a kitten for being a bit fluffeh, and we could only stand agape as the airport slowly emptied and various mutterings from other groups of angry people confirmed that the story was true.

Well that's the weekend fucked! BUT NO!
The boss has spent a fucking fortune on a 12 bedroom villa for us to destroy, and he wasn't going to let a small issue like no flights stop us from getting to Spain! A plan formulated in his mind, oh so quickly, and he grabbed his suitcase and belted towards the monorail thing that would take us to Birmingham New St station. We followed, bemused.

He paid for us all to go on the train to London.
He then paid for us all to go FIRST CLASS on the Eurostar to Paris, and then paid for flights from Paris to Valencia.
He then hired 2 cars (tiny, tiny cars) and we fucking DROVE the rest of the way to Puerto Banus, where we arrived, 12 hours later than scheduled, in the pissing down rain, and proceeded to get fucking ruined for 2 days! Then we had to get home.
We hadn't thought about that. At all.
OOOPS.
A quick call to the Mrs confirmed that we were, indeed, stupid cunts (she had alluded to this when I called her from London on the Thursday) and we couldn't get back, due to the ash cloud.

Now, in our group, were 5 of 7 dept managers from the company we work for, and we were all meant to be back in work on the Monday. This was Sunday morning, and we were stuck.

No, we are not stuck. We have Cars. Tiny, tiny cars.
5 of us, and all our luggage, decided we HAD TO TRY to get back, for our families, for our jobs, for men everywhere who had been defeated by mother nature.
We packed a shit load of stuff into this tiny tiny car, and crammed in, and set off to drive the WHOLE LENGTH of Spain. Which took 24 hours. We holed up overnight (after a very dodgy Chinese meal, which I think was mostly dog) in a F1 hotel, which is basically where long distance truckers go to kill hookers. The bed was 2 ft wide and made of rock.
At 5 in the morning, we needed to be off, and after our three hours of kip/non kip we were back on the road, to leave the rental car at entirely the wrong place (we no longer cared) and took a taxi over the border into France. We aimed to get a train across France, to Calais, and get a Ferry home.
OH NOES! France is having an industrial strike, and there are no fucking trains. We loiter around the arse end of wherever the hell we were, trying to come up with another plan. The Mrs at this stage had texted me to say there is no point going to Calais, as all the Ferries were booked solid, and the Navy were getting involved to get people home, but we faced a wait of at least a couple of days.
No we don't, not us! Not we brave few.
We got another taxi to the nearest airport, had to wait for someone to drop off a car which we could then drive almost the full length of France to Dunkirk. This car was tiny. Tinier than the other tiny cars. And it had no air con. And the windows were stuck. But fuck it.
We drove, another 12 hours, across France and arrived in Dunkirk.
"Sorry" said the nice French man, " you can't get on the Ferry, its freight and wheel traffic only, no foot passengers".
People were getting on this fucking ferry with kids tricycles, to get around this, but we were stuck, at the terminal (not many kids tricycle shops THAT close to the water) and we were no nearer to getting home.
BINGO, we call John, one of the company drivers, and he catches the NEXT ferry over, drives off, we pile in, and drives back on again.
Genius.
We get to Dover, and John, bless him, takes us home.
I love John.
I arrived home, to an angry Mrs, on the Tuesday, at 2pm, 52 hours after we set off, on three hours sleep, and almost no food.
I went to bed, and got to work on Wednesday.
The rest of our group arrived home on the Friday, having taken a slightly more scenic and genteel route home.

It was certainly something I will remember forever, but I won't ever do anything like it again, not through choice anyway.

Next time the Volcano goes off, I'm staying in bed.
(Tue 19th Jul 2011, 12:43, More)

» The Best / Worst thing I've ever eaten

Best
the first meal I cooked in my new gaff with my Kid stopping over for her first weekend in her new room- the first time she had aver had somewhere to stay overnight with me (several years on low pay in house shares etc) was amazing. It was only a homemade spag bol, in the slow cooker, but she was there, so it was aces!!

Worst-Rhubarb Crumble. Fucking nasty. (personal opinion only, may not be the opinion of others)
(Thu 26th May 2011, 16:07, More)

» Vandalism

In a place called 'Wellington', many moons ago....
I'd been out of the lash with my good friend Matt, and we were on the way home from an epic night of debauchery with the goth girls in the local heavy metal pub (good, dirty, times!) when we came to the local bus depot which was closed for the night, all the little buses tucked up for sleepy times. The depot was on a short road, linking two of the main through roads into the town, one leading to Morrison's and the other to the centre of town, and on one of these main through roads there were some road works taking place. They had left far too many bollards and barriers knocking about, and it suddenly seemed that the most obvious thing in the world to do was to move the roadworks and block off the bus depot completely.
For over an hour, in the dark and cold biting wind we toddled to and drunkenly fro, moving cone and light, barrier and bollard, until we had completely zoned off both entrances to the depot, it looked like a professional job too. Just as the last cone went down, we heard a sound that struck fear into our hearts. WOOOOOOOOOOO! Accompanied by a quick flash of a rotating blue light. Our whole escapade had been seen by two of Her Majesty's finest, and as we had left enough cones etc to still cover off the actual roadworks, thus causing no immediate danger, they had decided to let us finish our task, before busting us and making us move everything back to whence it came. 'Alright lads?'
'Err, yeah'
'Going to put that back are you'
'Yeah'
Another hour and a half later, they came back round, just as the last cone went back into its original position.
It had long stopped seeming funny, and had also began to rain. I was now sober.
I still hope for another opportunity to rectify this injustice, the road is full of pot holes and is due a bit of work again...I'm waiting, waiting......
(Tue 12th Oct 2010, 16:54, More)

» The Best / Worst thing I've ever eaten

This is taking the fucking piss isn't it?
4.14 on a Thursday and no new question?
POOR!
(Thu 2nd Jun 2011, 16:16, More)