» Class

Class
The area I grew up in while officially Surrey was on the cusp of Saaaaf Lahndaaahn, at my school it was acceptable for your family to have money as long as you were academically stunted and spoke like Ray Winstone. The mouth breathers I went to school with (described above) invented what can only be described as a caste system for the different social groups in our year: The Whispas – money and/or looks and/or sporting ability, big surprise for them when they entered the real world after secondary school (I hope). The pussy posse – identikit football obsessed YSL shirts and pinstripe trousers latent homosexuality bubbling just under the surface bless’em. The foreign legion – All the ethnic minorities who hung around in a large group together, possibly plotting the overthrow of Western society but who knows eh they’re inscrutable that lot Daily Star Princess Diana Eastenders and so on and so forth. The geeks – timid, conformist and took schoolwork seriously. The freaks – everyone else who they couldn’t readily pigeonhole, this included the mentally/behaviourally subnormal. One day a ‘freak’ was sent out of PE after being repeatedly punched by one of the ‘pussy posse’, he took advantage of being in the changing room alone to relieve himself over the school uniform of the pussy in question and leave for the day. The pussy saw out the end of the day in his PE kit. Rather than being hailed for breaking down the caste system and showing that he had a voice and feelings etc, they jumped the freak before school started, denuded him and wedged him into one of the plastic bins on the rec ground behind the school. With only his feet and head showing out of the bin and his arms firmly wedged behind him he could neither climb out, nor work up enough momentum to tip the bin and escape. This being a blisteringly hot day in June, by the early afternoon he had become terribly dehydrated. Luckily the way he had been wedged, with some careful angling did allow for one extreme solution. Long story short he pissed in his own mouth.
(Tue 25th Mar 2014, 15:22, More)

» Petty Officials

Pet shop
When I was eighteen odd (and odd) I worked for a pet shop which was part of a chain. Fun job for the young me and I was dedicated. The chain had some fairly customer focused ideas, one of which was offering customers a hot beverage on cold days. We were allocated a supply of teabags, coffee etc which one winter morn ran out.
Being a dedicated soul I ran out and bought some Tetleys out of my own tiny wage, only to be told we couldn't serve the customers anything that wasn't from an 'approved vendor'.
In a fit of pique I took a bag and flung it into the largest fish tank on the premises, one that contained several different groups of types of fish. While it did murk the tank up the different groups did seem to rather enjoy the addition to their tank, genuine displays of affection were witnessed (as much as you can tell with fish anyway).
That was the last time I encountered pet tea of fish shoals.
(Thu 27th Mar 2014, 18:41, More)

» Parsimony

I got dragged out to Camden when I was
about 20 by an ex-girlfriend. I'm not very good at London because I'm a joyless stick in the mud with the soul of a 70 year old tax accountant, I usually deal with it by getting completely hammered.

This time (against my better judgement) I also took some ecstasy, in the line going in to the electric ballroom. By the time I got in I didn't know what was going on, serious confusion and hallucinations.

I vaguely remember this unhappy, pink dreadlocked and heavily made up girl trying to tell me something about a band called MCR. But her words were slurring together and try as I might, I couldn't understand what the words meant.
That's my story of Parse emo 'n E.
(Sun 13th Mar 2016, 9:00, More)