» Running away

From Aighburth to the Equator
So the ex-girlfriend from Liverpool (who I never got over, obviously) gets back in touch.

I take a week off work and head up to Liverpool to see whether maybe, just maybe, we can take that resilient little spark of passion, still smouldering after eight years, and with it, reignite the flames of love.

We have one perfect day, after which she declares that she can't handle the intensity of her feelings for me, and blanks me out of her life forever.

So I buy a one-way ticket to Thailand.

It's quite nice here. Bit hot though.
(Sat 12th Aug 2006, 16:44, More)

» My sex misconceptions

oral sex
My parents, bless them, bought me a book when I reached a certain age - it contained all the important facts a young lad needs to know about "growing up".

It helpfully explained about puberty and adolescence, and even included some useful definitions of a variety of phrases of which I had previously never heard. The language was a bit dry though.

"Oral sex" was described as being something along the lines of "stimulation of the genitals by the mouth".

I honestly assumed that it was referring to the experience of receiving a kiss (on the mouth) that was so pleasant that it gave you an erection.
(Thu 25th Sep 2008, 17:05, More)

» The Police

Lost in translation
Going back a fair few years now, I popped round to a friend's house for a brew and a biscuit one afternoon to find him stricken with worry. Apparently he'd just got off the phone to a policeman - "PC" something or other, who'd asked to speak to his girlfriend. She was at work at the time, so they said they'd call back, but refused to tell him what they were calling about.

Now friend's girlfriend was a nice German lass, but I'm not entirely sure all was above-board in terms of immigration status... Or is that not a worry if you're from the EU? Maybe it was then, I dunno... Anyway, she certainly didn't have a UK driving license, and I'm not sure she was insured to drive his car.

Friend was a little paranoid at the best of times, thanks to years of admirable substance abuse, and was beside himself with angst - picturing his missus being clapped in irons, imprisoned or deported (or both). I tried to reassure him - surely if she was in trouble they'd call round rather than phone, but there was no getting through to him, and I awkwardly finished my biscuit and left him to wallow in a pool of paranoia.

Bumped into him a week later and he was happy as Larry - it hadn't been the police at all, it was "PC Pro" magazine, calling to tell his missus that she'd won a mouse mat in a competition...
(Thu 22nd Sep 2005, 20:39, More)

» People with Stupid Names

cock
There was a boy at our school called Lee Mycock.

Not all that funny in itself, but it made our day when the deputy headmaster was looking for Lee for some reason, and burst into our history class to bellow the immortal words "Where's Mycock?"
(Thu 26th Aug 2004, 15:00, More)

» My Worst Vomit

painting the management's porcelain
Went out for a few beers and a curry with my boss once.

The first few pints went down quite well, and the next few soon joined them in a happy tummy beer party. Then it was off to the curry house, where I cleverly ordered something exotic, containing more chillies than actual meat or rice... My tastebuds tranquilised by beer, I wolfed down the lot without blinking, and then it was off to the late bars for more beer fun.

Got back to my boss's place late on, somewhat the worse for wear, and made my fatal mistake. He didn't have any beer in, but offered me a warm 750ml bottle of blue wkd. I quaffed about half of it before admitting defeat, and then felt a little bit poorly and decided it was time for bed.

Woke up at 7am with a rapidly developing headache and a nagging sensation. My body contained more toxins than it was entirely happy with, and was telling me that it was time to urgently expel them. From both ends.

So I prance into the bathroom and sit down for a particularly dribbly poo, while leaning over and merrily vomiting a mixture of blue wkd and chilli death curry into his sink.

Of course, I hadn't really been able to taste the spicy evil of this curry when I ate it, but by crikey I knew it was hot on the way out. It burns, it burns! You haven't lived until you've vomited whole undigested chillies through your nose, while pooing yellow gravy.

It took my boss a week to unblock his sink.

Apologies for girth.
(Fri 20th Aug 2004, 11:05, More)