3.142
was 2 years ago on christmas day, i walked in the living room to see my granny, eating a mince pie.

yep. its illegal to eat mince pies on christmas day.
(Kierz, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 23:44, 2 replies)

School Bully Retribution
2 years ago, during my AS level year, I was on the last bus-ride of my daily trek home.
Getting on the bus, I looked out the window to the opposite side of the busy A-road. I was tired, bored and just wanted to go home, but what I saw grabbed my attention immediately.

Three boys and a girl, all looking about 13 or 14, were coming out of the nearby tube station in their uniforms, walking together.
By walking together, I mean that the boys were following the girl, taunting her, pinching her, trying to trip her up and not letting her get away.
The sight was disgusting. The boys were actually hitting her. She was twitching with pain, flinching at any vaguely hostile movement from a boy. But this assault on the defenceless girl wasn't the worst of it, oh no.

Their half-broken voices pierced through the bus' thick windows as I watched on in horror. The girl was quite short, podgy and ginger, and were they letting her know it. They called her all manner of cruel names, and the tears were welling up in her eyes. I could see her desperately trying to hold back her sorrow, to not let them have the satisfaction of breaking her. But she was in the midst of puberty, with her self-esteem at an all-time vulnerable low and they were ruining her development, shattering her confidence, striking at her deepest insecurities. I could see from where I stood the look of true pain on her face, and it was borne not of their physical barrage but of their mental torture, their brutal beating of her self-image at this crucial time in her life.

By this point I couldn't have been standing there more than 20 seconds, but I'd seen enough.
I am usually incredibly calm, but then I could feel the rage build up in my heart, feel the anger course through my body and seep into my very being. I wanted nothing but retribution on these little scummy pieces of shit.

Now everyone had got onto the bus and the doors had just closed. It was about to pull away, but at this point everything changed for me. I wasn't going to be my usual slow-to-react self.
I shouted at the top of my voice to the driver that I was getting off. He looked round to me in annoyance but this quickly turned to a wide-eyed fear as I stared him down, my fists clenched, my teeth bared, poised to pounce. He stopped and opened the doors.

I leapt out of the bus and marched across the road. I cared not for the cars hooting, nor my safety, nor for any obstacle in the way of satiating my bloodlust. The boys were in my sights. They didn't even notice me pounding ominously towards them they were so embroiled in hurting this girl. But I made them notice.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!?" I roared at the top of my voice as I approached. Other commuters exiting the station started to stare. I had their attention.

I grabbed the largest boy by his underarms and lifted him up, slamming him against the nearby wall.
"DO YOU THINK IT'S FUNNY TO PICK ON HELPLESS PEOPLE!? DO YOU FIND IT AMUSING TORMENTING THOSE WHO DON'T FIGHT BACK?!?"

The boy let out a small whimper. I think he tried to say something, but at this point I was past caring. Onlookers simply walked on by, their introverted Londoner tendencies out-weighing any desire to intervene.

"DO YOU FIND IT FUNNY NOW?" I screamed and threw him to the ground, then proceeded to do the same to his two cronies, all unable to break their falls due to the terror-induced mal-co-ordination.
I was determined to scare them, to show them the other side of bullying, to give this girl some dearly-needed protection that her bullies would never forget. She just stared on in amazement, stroking her bruises absent-mindedly.

"GIVE ME YOUR SCHOOLBOOKS" I screamed, my lungs unleashing a voice that boomed like thunder and caused them to visibly tremor. They could only stare blankly. Each took off their bag, and I ripped the zip off each one in turn, taking a schoolbook from each.

I smiled. "Now I have your names and the name of your school. Your headmaster will be hearing from me about your behaviour." And with that, I walked off, leaving them to struggle up from the ground in horror and the girl to make her quick getaway.



At least, that is what would have happened. That is what I would have done, that is the series of events that has played out in my head ever since, that is what the ferocity that took me over had urged me to do.
However, when I observed this taking place, by the time I had made my plan to deliver justice and find a way of getting their names, by the time I had turned around to get off the bus, it had actually already started pulling away unbeknown to me during my distraction.

With my surprise at this event I did not think to try to stop the bus, and in typical Londoner introversion I did not think nor want to shout at the driver.

Instead all I did was turn back around in time to see those boys and that girl turn into a road leading to a maze of residential streets. By the time I stopped at the next bus stop and walked back, they could be anywhere in suburbia. I was too late.
Instead of justice, I spent the rest of that bus journey and most of the following weeks boiling with anger.
Anger at them, anger at the world that produced them, but most of all anger at myself for being so slow to do what was right.


To this day it is one of my greatest regrets that I did not get off that bus.
(Adamish Time of death, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 23:39, 2 replies)

Not so much a crime but
at a house party, two fellows were having an argument that was boiling over into an altercation... though I later found out that Guy #2 was someone I'd have decked myself on general principle, I leapt up and put Guy #1 in a full nelson and held him for about five or six minutes that way. He was totally cool about it, too - he knew if I let him go that he'd deck the bastard. He'd even given me beer earlier that night (though it was Heinecken and I don't find it particularly tasty).

One of the girls sitting nearby apparently thought it was the manliest thing ever and yes, I did indeed get laid that night.

I definitely need a few beers in me first to get the courage to do anything like that (it could have gone south quickly). Moral: always be buzzed.
( AgentMuu hentai coordination, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 23:31, 3 replies)

About, oooooh, 4 years ago, now,
I went into Glasgow with a few friends and the ex missus to see a mates band play in Fury Murray's. Back then, I was not used to nights out in the city (being a wee bumpkin) but it had all gone well, we were quite well oiled and were waiting for our mini bus at a bus stop...... unfortunately, a rather secluded one near the St. Enoch centre. Now.... there were about 9 of us there, but we maybe didn't look like we were all together as 3 of my mates were in their best metal finery, whereas I had been dressed by the wife. Soon enough, as we waited, a ned an his nedstress appeared and began talking to my 3 metal-clad mates, mainly it seemed in the hopes of procuring their accompaniment to a heroin party. Suspicious. Suspicious or not, my mates got sick of him in about 2 minutes, and gently suggested that he may like to leave. Well..... the exact words were "Look mate, we don't want yer fuckin' junk, fuck of or I'll shove you wummin's brolly up yer arse and open it!" The reply he gave stopped me laughing tho. "That right? Wait there." And off he marched. Within a few seconds someone else approached us..... he seemed to be wrapping his belt round his hand, and as he reached us he smacked one of my mates, leaving a 1 inch gash on his forehead, and ran off, hotly pursued by my 3 mates and one of their girlfriends, leaving me, the missu, one other guy and 2 ladies behind. Now, at this point I remained at the bus stop only because the missus was also trying to join the fight (she was/is a lunatic) but as Iooked on I genuinely became terrified.... there were neds springing out from EVERYWHERE! It had been an ambush.... they'd spotted my mates and had been trying to lure them away from the bus stop to jump them. I knew my mates were in trouble but I just stood there..... I do think trying to protect the missus was part of it, but I'm a bit ashamed to admit I was bloody terrified too. It was all caught on CCTV, but the cops wouldn't bring charges cos my mates had fought back! Tit-headed idiots.
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 23:16, 6 replies)

Christmas Eve 2000
true story - this happened to me

i had the best job you could want during my A-levels, well upper 6th anyway. i used to work in the local off licence and as i grew up in the middle of nowhere i knew everyone. so no yobby kids would try to get stuff underage and also i got a lot of freebies and a lot of 'wasted/damaged goods'.

so come Christmas Eve, its the busiest day of the year as everyone panic buys wine, sherry and port.

now over the months leading up to the xmas rush we had invented a rugby style game in the stock room.

the buzzer goes, ah we think just another customer.

so the guy i work with goes out front to serve i hear some shouting so i go out front to see what was going on. in front of me i see my work buddy pale white and in tears as there are two men stood there waving bread knives at him.

i couldnt believe this is actually happening so i spluttered to myself, before i was asked to open the safe.

'errrrrr.....its already open'

panicing they ask us to stand in the corner.

'ummmmm.......we're already stood in the corner'

as they grab the money and run out, they tell us to get out to the stockroom so they cant see them leave.

i just shrug my shoulders and say, 'fine'

and walk out laughing.

they stole £500 in float money, rather than steal all expensive drink or fags. i pressed the alarm button and waited 40 minutes for the police to turn up and laugh at them as im telling them whats happened.

im not trying to make out im some sort of hard nut, i just couldnt believe it was happening.


so thats me watching crime being committed and not being a have a go hero
(TheFallGuy doesn't it?!, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 23:06, Reply)

I just phoned the Rape Advice Line
turns out its only for victims...


/sorry
EDIT: Yes I know it was in the newsletter..was kind of the point..duh..nevermind..
( BadBadman saw an incorrect comma placement on, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 22:46, 1 reply)

Tourette's...
Stole my heart.*

While I was watching. And I stood back and let her.

My mates observed the whole incident. And let her.





* Apologies to Legless. I stole his story. Watcha gonna do about it?
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Thu 14 Feb 2008, 22:19, 2 replies)

Immediately after we broke up, my ex-girlfriend claimed I'd raped her.
That was a real barrel of laughs.
(FUCK OFF, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 21:59, 7 replies)

A Very Bad Man
At the ripe old age of 14 I was allowed go to my first real gig...4ft Fingers at Middlesbrough Town Hall Crypt. Coming out of the gig minus my shirt and my hat me and my mates come across some crackhead fuckwit laying into some dude in a Marilyn Manson shirt...two of my mates stepped in without much effect; one got a bust jaw and the other broke some teeth after the scum full on nutted him. Cue the police turning up and driving slowly round the town hall to see if they could spot him and me being completely high running around asking people if they had seen "A Very Bad Man"...I'm fu*king useless
(Freak on a Leash is jerking off to centre himself on, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 21:37, Reply)

Today: My contribution to society
As most of you know, I used to serve the US government as a Marine. So this afternoon, after making my rounds of Valentine's joy (dropping flowers off at Mums and candy at all my Sister's houses) I was driving by a local middle school. (pre-teens)

As I approached the junction, where a crossing guard was directing traffic so the little ingrates could cross the street with little concern for traffic, I noticed one of the school crossing signs was moving radically back and forth. these are signs alerting you to an approaching cross walk and stand about 7 ft tall.

As I got closer, I could see, between the parked cars that two middle school girls were doing their best to knock the thing over. These signs things are STEEL and are planted in concrete, but their efforts were causing it to wobble significantly.

Oh, and this is in BROAD daylight. And an adult is stood not 10 ft from these little brats.

So, with my window down, I mustered up my old Marine Corps command voice and screamed: "YOU TWO! YOU NEED TO STOP DOING THAT RIGHT THE
F*&K NOW!"

The look on their faces was absolutely priceless. I am SURE they figured they were about to die or get shipped off to boot camp! :)

So yeah, I guess I am a Have-a-go Hero. Go ahead, click yes because you KNOW you want me on that wall. You NEED me on that wall!
( Citadel Because the world needs less morons, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 21:24, 5 replies)

Armed Robbery
Hailing from Cracktown UK (Ilkeston) and having lived the charming St Anns district of Nottingham I have seen plenty of crimes and been witness to a fair few burglaries, assaults drug deals the like.

A friend, who used to live at the bottom of St Anns regularly had junkies and prostitutes hanging around the jitty (pathway for you non-Midlanders) at the back of his house. To which his solution was to have a) 3 buckets of water to soak the junkies, and b) a catapult to fire handful upon handful of dried peas from the upstairs window to deter any further wannabe skagsters from doing their injecting up his alley so to speak.

Scariest times (in retrospect) for me, having had a knife pulled on me a full 3 times in my life have been missing a bank robbery by 2 minutes in Ilkeston and being within seconds of walking in on a shooting at the local Londis in the aforementioned St Anns.

Also seen cars being vandalised, kids peddling drugs, prostitution galore and a lad breaking into an art gallery even with me shouting out the window that I had called the police (from the safety of my 2nd floor gated flat)
(triley, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 21:14, 1 reply)

Not actually a crime...BUT
I work from my home office and after a busy day, flogging the phones, I called it a day and was settling in for a little Call of Duty III, shooting Germans for the Greater Good and all. So my Brother comes over to the house and as the front door was unlocked, he comes in and walks through the house to my office and comes in with this amazed look on his face.

He asks me what I am doing and I said: "Killin' Nazi's of course!"

His response: Dude, the SWAT team is parked in the driveway out front! Literally!

I walked to my front window and gazed out to see large men in semi-police looking uniforms, donning body armor and packing sub-machine guns. I nearly shat myself.

They were using my driveway as a staging area for a raid on one of my Neighbor's houses. Apparently, one of my Neighbors, who was a POLICE OFFICER, was living with a guy who was dealing CRACK out of their house!

So, being the nosy twit that I am, I threw on my flip flops and headed up the street to where all the action was 'going down'. The cops did NOT like that and several of them saw to it to illustrate the error of my ways. I protested and said "Listen, if I can give up my goddamned driveway to you guys so you can stage for this little raid, YOU can give me a little info."

Surprisingly, they complied and told me the whole story! I even got to stand there and look on disapprovingly as they escorted the couple out of the house, neatly accessorized with matching stainless steel bracelets!

A win for the Rozzers!

Cheers,
Citadel
( Citadel Because the world needs less morons, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 21:01, 1 reply)

I'm always the 'have-a-go-hero'
I've found that a lot of people are all talk. Ages ago in a coffee shop some piss head started swearing,shouting and throwing things at the girl behind the counter. Place is full of people who just sit and stare. All 5'3" of me shouts back at this bloke and throws him out. All the people still sit and stare.

Another time I'm walking home from work and go passed two blokes going the same direction. I get the usual 'go on love, show us your tits'. As I carry on one says, 'stuck up fucking bitch'. Now at this point I'm right by my front door and I know my husbands inside. So I spin round. 'What did you just say?'
'Nothing',
'So you didn't call me a stuck up bitch then?',
'Um.. Yes'.
'So what do you have to say for yourself?'
'Sorry'
'Now are you going to stand here like a pair of twats or fuck off?'
'We'll fuck off'.
( Mrs Entity is in hiding., Thu 14 Feb 2008, 21:01, 3 replies)

Just south of Tombstone...
My wife and I used to live in Tucson, Arizona... and we would travel down on occasion to the border to visit her Aunt that owned a hotel for a weekend of bumming free rooms, food, and alcohol... (we were poor college students!)
We would often see illegals running the line into the US and skulking though the desert... but this one time it was pretty crazy. This tiny red car had been following us for miles and then suddenly blew past us... then way up ahead we saw the car pull off to the side and a mob of mexicans rush out of the underbrush. The driver hops out and is stuffing kids, adults into the trunk... every place that could normally have one person, had at least three. The car now loaded down, then scrapes back on the road... pulls a U-turn and then peels off back north.

I didn't have any cell phone signal to call the border patrol... so they may now be cleaning dishes somewhere in the US!
(TribeDoktor, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 20:53, 2 replies)

When I was in Hull
I saw two criminals in two days from the comfort of my bedroom window.

The first one was two fat chavs spending around 45 minutes trying to nick a moped from the alleyway opposite me. The alarm kept on going off, which they ran away from at first, then a little bit, then ignored.

I got a bit fucked off though, as I'd been playing S.T.A.L.K.E.R. and the alarm was making me shit myself more and more as it was going off at inopportune moments. I rang the rozzers after a while, which sorted that out.

The second day a guy got arrested two doors down (a house which MUST have been a crack den given the amount of house calls), something I was only alerted to after I heard two officers reading his rights as they took a fucking butcher's knife off him.

I was peeking through the curtains until the crim saw me and stared at me. I did what anyone else would have done in the circumstances and proceeded to do a long, drawn out impression of a spastic at him, hand/wrist action and all. Pressed my mongy face against the window, too.

Then the police also saw it, and knocked on my door to give me a very pissed off look before asking me if I saw anything.
( TGP on the rock 'n' roll, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 20:50, Reply)

Why I call myself Big-girls-blouse.
Nearest I ever got to an assault was when in Coventry walking back from a night out with my bestest friend. We were drunkenly traipsing home around the grotty streets of said city when I jokingly picked up a glass bottle and told my pal that we'd be ok this night as I had a leathal weapon to save us.

A little further on we saw a drunk chappie swerving towards us and gripping the bottle I grabbed my pals arm and we both sped up past him with no bother noticing the damp patch around his groin area were he had wet himself.

We laughed at the thought of this guy overcoming two strapping gals like us and carried on our journey. We were just coming to the end of the street with me a few steps in front of my pal when who should appear but the same guy who had passed us earlier. He stumbled past me and grabbed my friend and pushed her against the wall and as I turned round to see him push her I dropped the bottle and stood there doing nothing and shaking like a leaf while she got on with the job of twatting him. (She used to be a biker, so wasn't a wuss like me). After he ran away as quickly as a drunk and battered dickhead can run she looked at me and shook her head while I apologized profusely and just shrugged my shoulders.

She got her own back in the end by moving to New Zealand and having a wonderful life while I stayed in England and sulked.


(But she's coming to see me at Easter, yay).
( girlinthehole, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 20:24, 7 replies)

Crime
It is a f*cking crime I'm sat here drinking wine on my own on Valentine's day whilst the rest of the UK is having sex.

Looks like I'll have to be a have-a-go hero again tonight.
(Just a girl., Thu 14 Feb 2008, 20:18, 12 replies)

Lamest police chase ever...
Back when I lived in Sheffield I was on my way home from work one evening when I heard police sirens and turned to look, hoping for a bit of real life Police Camera Action style excitement. What I saw was a chavvy kid on a moped pootling up the hill at about 15mph followed by a po-lice car also going about 15mph. I assume they legally had to follow him as he was clearly up to no good, but it was just sad to see them trying to chase a kid who was escaping at around running speed.

This in an area that, although actually pretty nice and quiet, had previously seen beatings, stabbings and even a drug-related shooting. I get none of that, just comedy-of-embarrassment style shenanigans.
( yes yes yes man oi mate, someone's writtten 'bum' on your neck, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 19:56, 1 reply)

Weird Sexual Practices, Drugs, Rock ‘n’ Roll and Violence…what more could a B3tan ask for??

Disclaimer: Even by my standards this is a biggun – so please get comfy…and I count about a dozen crimes of differing severity coming up in total…all witnessed, some committed by me, all in one night and all 100% true.



When I was 17 I was the keyboard player in a local band – we did alright, mainly because the populations of all the local schools would come and pay £2 entrance fee for the fun of underage drinking, youthful copulation…and time depending, to see the band.

My brother had a very important role to play at our gigs…He was older than all of us and looked like a cross between me and a ruthless sadistic maniac who was harder than a concrete block on Viagra. He was our security guard.

Sure, he nicked a load of the band money to get him and his mates pissed, and he glory sponged off the band’s success to ‘fire in’ with the laydees, but he protected the band and the gear, and one of his mates would drive me about - so that was enough.

We played one such gig in Rugby and it was a triumph – packed with 1000+ screaming drunken kids (I think I actually stagedived!) We played impressively…but more important I got pissed out of my tits. Yay.

Post gig, my brother, his mate and I drive into town for some chow. It was on the way that my caring sharing bro decided to introduce me to the deep joys of acid tabs. You’ll soon discover I picked a doozy of a night to have my first trip.

After a while we were all sat on a wall by the road…kebabbing like a frenzy and starting to whizz nicely along when a fight kicks off about 100 yards from us. It starred your typical Neanderthal brain-swap experiment type, smacking some small unfortunate chap before turning on his own girlfriend.

We didn’t intervene…we didn’t have to...this huge wank-barrel had a proper one on him. ‘What are you fuckin’ lookin’ at?’ He spat at us from across the street.

We said nothing.

Knuckles dragging and bloodied missus in tow, he comes over to us and starts mouthing off…and with the archetypal hallmark of the bully…he looked for the smallest bloke to pick on.

He glanced past me…nope…he glanced at my brother…nope...he glanced at the sober chap with glasses…’that’ll do’ he thought, and he punched our mate in the face, knocking him off the wall.

Either cowardice, drunkenness or a combination of both prevented me from doing anything other than stand up in defence. However, quicker than Bran flakes through my dodgy bowels, my brother launches himself up and knocks the spack of Gibraltar to the floor.

As I attend to our mate, my brother is promptly rewarded for his chivalry with a stiletto to the back of the head and a shriek of ‘Leave ‘im alone…eeee’s pisssssed!’

She then starts dragging her beloved mound of weapons-grade arse-banana across the road and we decide it’s time to for us pick up our friend and go.

Now with the adrenaline of the scuffle, the excitement of the gig, the beer and the acid pumping through our veins we collectively agree that we’re not quite ready to call it a night just yet.

My mate had some beer in the car. We drove to a lake near my rent’s house that had a kiddie’s play area by it where we could drink our cans. At this point it was about 1:30 am and we thought the chances of there being any kids playing at that time were pretty minimal.

What we did see, however, was a sight I will unfortunately take with me to my grave. (This section is sort of a pearoast – soz)

You had to cross a little bridge to get to the play area and as we approached it, in the light of the full moon. We saw an old, bearded man stood there with his trousers round his ankles, wanking himself off feverishly towards the play area. Wanking like his life depended on it…wanking for England and the known universe. Wanking so hard, in fact, that it must have hurt.

This was not an acid hallucination…this was real…and we, quite rightly, freaked.right.out.

“Oi, Wotcha think ya doin?’” We shouted.

The pud-puller turned round startled, tripped over his kex and fell over. He then gathered up his pants, turned on his heels and sped off into the night.

We didn’t laugh or say anything at first…we just stood there with our mouths wide open and stared at each other in disbelief.

This was one fucked up night.

We sat on a picnic table by the play area and started to recount the events of the evening as we drank our cans…. My brother and I were now full-on ratarsed and as we headed back into the car, my brother dared me to jump in the lake.

“Fuck off!” I politely answered.

“Fair enough” he said, and promptly walked into the lake himself

“Fine” I said, and followed him in, fully clothed.

As we waded deeper and deeper into the lake, we were now about 50 metres away from the shore and the water was just up to my chin.

Of course, we all thought this was very good drunken fun, splashing around and had a whale of a time…right up until the lightning started flashing and the rain started pissing down…then it kicked in with the acid very nicely, and I considered the best thing to do was to get really fucking scared really fucking quickly.

The resulting electric storm was the final straw and I was talked out from the lake and back to the car, dripping wet, in the rain, with no means to dry us…upon which our designated driver friend said, “You’re not getting in my car like that!”

It was about 3 miles of country lanes back to my folks’ house, and with the unique brand of idiocy saved only for these such occasions, we decided that the best thing to do would be to sit on the bonnet and hold on for dear life as our friend drove us…so that’s what we did.

He told us later he had hit about 50mph… as he drove past the police college we had forgotten about. We then sped into the village and were rapidly reported to the police by everybody who saw us.

Our mate stopped out side my house and we climbed off the bonnet, still wringing wet. As we discussing our next meeting and the fact that we had survived the night, the police turned up…and turned up…and turned up

From both ends of the road there approached a line of 4 policemen, then 2 cars, then another row with dogs.

Oh bollocks.

I was petrified with fear. I didn’t have a clue what was going to happen. Fortunately, my brother had more experience in these matters.

One of the rozzers approached us, looked at our mate, sober and dry, and then the other two twats…pissed, tripping and soaking wet. As he gazed at the two wet bum marks on the bonnet, he asked:

“So who’s been riding on the bonnet then?” (Even I tutted at that remark – nice one Sherlock!)

“Nobody” Said my brother, as another couple of coppers grabbed our mate and proceeded to go through his car with a fine toothed comb whilst breathalysing the crap out of him

“How come you’re both soaking?” He asked.

“We’ve been swimming in the lake” my brother said

“Do you know you’re not supposed to go in there?” snarled a female copper in my direction.

“Erm…sorry” I muttered.

“I knew, but I went in anyway!” My brother proudly states with a big smile, oblivious to the quacks of fear emanating from my arse.

(Here’s the thing, I wasn’t aware of this at the time, but this particular lake is a dumping ground for loads of dodgy chemicals and wotnot. So while it wasn’t actually illegal to go in there…in Darwin awards fashion, you’re just a stupid twat if you do)

So picture the scene…After a night like that, I’m young and naive, in the middle of a police raid, wringing wet, pissed and tripping – what could be the worst thing that could possibly happen at this point?

Yep – My mum opened the front door in her nightie.

Rubbing her squinting eyes, she squawks “Pooflaaaaake? Pooflaaake? Is that you?”

Oh sweet fucking Jesus…the shame of it all…I’m sure I heard a couple of the coppers giggle.

“Get in the house, for fuck’s sake” my brother tells me – the police let me go in.

As I wander over and approach my mum, the acid gives the appearance of her head lurching towards me, making shapes like she's in a hall of mirrors.

My brother is soon let off too, and my mate’s breath test is negative so they haven’t really got a leg to stand on. It’s all over

I crawl up stairs, my poster of Freddy Krueger is moving on the wall, paranoia starts to kick in and I quickly forget about the scene outside. Every time I close my eyes I get lights flashing in my eyes and a whooshing feeling like I’m flying down the trench at the end of Star Wars.

At this point, despite it being stupid o’clock, I switch my TV on and have the sudden urge to try and write a song about what had transpired that night*, I plug my guitar in, turn the amp up, press my plectrum to the first string…

And there was a power cut.

“Bollocks to this” I say to myself, and go to bed…to lie there quivering with my eyes open for the next 7 hours.

And I wonder why I’m now so fucked up.




Apologies for length specially go out to…well, you know who you are…and I tried to keep it brief…REALLY I did!

* I did get to write a song about it the next day – it was called ‘Headaches and Deep Lakes’ and it wasn’t very good
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Thu 14 Feb 2008, 19:41, 8 replies)

I grew up on council estates...
...and went to the lower-end of state schools. No matter how many pages this QOTW is up to next week, I could double them.

I probably won't be arsed to, though, and in some cases just wouldn't dare :)
(thatblokeoverthere not quite as much an arsehole as I thought, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 19:39, 2 replies)

Did bugger all but then I didn't have to
Walking home I encountered a group of young lads who were 'tooled-up' with their own home-made weapons. Of particular note was the ice pick that one casually dropped out from his sleeve into his hand as they approached me. I lived near a football stadium at the time and a match was on so I guess they were trying to make a name for themselves as thugs or the like.

Much swearing and threatening as they approached, though thankfully so did the police van in the street behind them. A couple of metres before they reached me the van doors opened, out nipped the police, disarmed them and chucked them in the back. They'd seen the whole thing develop and so didn't even ask for a witness statement.

Result.
(Mehitabel_Itrang, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 19:21, Reply)

pikeys
one of my mates got twatted round the head with a baseball bat by a pikey

needless to say the pikey did a runner straight away

had to go to a police lineup to identify the twat afterwards
( epiphany coming live from sweden, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 19:14, Reply)

Oh, the horror...
First up, apologies to anyone has been genuinely burgled. I guess it is a properly shite experience.

However, the year is 1997. Stoke on Trent. University. Summer Ball. Everyone knows where all the students live. Everyone knows where the students will be. All the students in my road got robbed, including me.

Well nearly. We got home, and noticed a small window by the bathroom was broken, glass everywhere... and nothing taken. Our next door neighbour had a dog (mental border collie), and we reckon that on hearing the glass breaking he started barking and scared the miscreants off. Great, praise and chew treats for Fido.

Fast forward a year. Stoke on Trent. 1998. University. Summer Ball. Everyone knows where all the students live. Everyone knows where the students will be. All the students in my road got robbed - excluding me. We had the excellent foresite to borrow next door's dog to prevent even the chance of a break-in. And it worked. No unwanted attention from burglars.

Just a great big dog turd on my house mate's favourite rug.
(animal252 last activated his kitten hammer on, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 19:12, 1 reply)

When I worked in a Tesco in Edinburgh
One night some rather rowdy teenage girls came in. "Oh aye", I thought.

A few minutes passed and I heard the unmistakable sound of chaos from further down in the store. Then the potatoes began to fly.

They were having a root-veg fight in the wines and spirits aisle. By the time the manager frog-marched them out, they'd done about £40 worth of damage- it's a good job they stuck to the new potatoes and didn't notice the baking ones...
(Generator cannot be named for legal reasons, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 19:11, Reply)

This morning.
I was behind a police car on my journey to work for a few miles. That meant sticking to dead on 30, of course.

Except, it didn't. The police car was doing 40...until it came to a speed camera. Then it did 30.

Do as they say...not what they do.
(Musuko, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 19:07, Reply)

my manager
bear in mind is in her late 60s an not a big woman as such, locked a fat chavvy woman and her equally meathead husband in the shop were i work after she shoved about 4 stone island coats down the back of a kid in a pram.

idiots
( m-a-t-t -- formerly mini hasn't been on here for EVER!, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 19:03, Reply)