» Misunderstood

Thar she blows!!
About 7 years ago, me and my girlfriend came home drunk from a fancy dress party where we had been both dressed as pirates. For some reason my girlfriend decided to go on the treadmill in my room.

Halfway through her run, my girlfriend started shouting the classic pirate phrase "Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!" but in my drunken stupor I thought she said "Increase it to eight!", so I duly did so.

Not expecting the sudden speed increase, my girlfriend was catapulted into the upstairs banister, knocking herself out. I then had to get my neighbour to drive us both to casualty in full pirate regalia.....

It was about a week before I could speak to her again...
(Sun 9th Oct 2005, 0:26, More)

» Misunderstood

Oh God, I just remembered!!!
When I was a toddler, a misunderstanding between "artistic" and "autistic" meant I was treated very weirdly by my childminder for over a year!
(Wed 12th Oct 2005, 0:31, More)

» Black Sheep

My dad's crap family
I sometimes make life hell for my dad (I'm 17) I shouldn't really, because he's a really kind and considerate person, and an absolute beacon compared to the rest of my dad's family. Let me tell you about the rest of my dad's family.

My dad was born in Wolverhampton in the 1950s to the landlady of the Wolverhampton Theatre (or maybe just "a theatre" in Wolverhampton, I'm not entirely sure) and the landlord of the local ECC Sports and Social Club, by all accounts an alcoholic racist, but he died before I can remember so I can't really judge him. Dad's mother had an ego the size of Denmark, she was one of those "life is a stage" types and used to act extravagantly at every opportunity. I make her sound like a drag queen but that's not entirely accurate because drag queens have some degree of decadence, whereas Nana just looked ridiculous. She was the result of a wanton girl getting her jollies off the navy in the "Roaring 20s" and no-one knows where the family tan comes from, but I digress. Somewhere in the wilderness of time, Nana saw "the light" and became a spiritualist. To this day you can't move in her house for tarot cards, balls and other assorted pieces of jiggerypokery intended to help one reach "the other side". She left her job, and from then on her income came from turning her house into a halfway house for Z-list celebs playing locally who couldn't be bothered to pay the fees at the W-ton Grand Hotel, sometimes you'd go into her lounge and see Rula Lenska/Paul Shane/The Roly Polies (one of which is my dad's godmother), which was very scary. So much was she enthralled with all this, that she spent 30 years going to hand-holding sessions in Iceland, or dancing around mountain-tops in Arizona wearing a native Red Indian headress (For a while she would only be referred to as "The woman who speaks to the wind"), that she forgot to... er... raise her children. So as you can imagine they became pikeys of the highest order. Luckily my dad flew the nest and joined the army, travelling over the world and I respect him for that decision, however his sister decided to earn a living by marrying as many rich men as possible, and his brother dossed around aimlessly before getting local goats' milk deliverer "Sherie" pregnant and "settling down to a married life", producing the three most pikey kids imaginable (the rich kind, the worst kind) and starting up a dodgy stolen furniture company. While this was happening, my dad was a Sargeant Major in the RAMC, he met my mum who was in the QARANC in Woolwich, and when they got together my "Nana" was horrified to discover that my mum was from a farm in deepest darkest Wales, and on meeting her treated her like some corn-chewing ricketts-riddled gypsy girl with no education. The truth was quite the contrary. Thankfully she got on like a house on fire with my mum's parents which helped them solve their differences. When I was born I became her favourite grandson because I was the only one who took in her spiritual brain-washing clap-trap, unlike the braindead protege of Phil and "Sherie" !! She actually used to make me stay for "decoupage" (mainly of roses, black cats...) weekends!! I tell no lie!! Thank God my mum weaned me off her in time before I started collecting dream catchers and carving passages from "Castle of Otranto" across my chest!!
Still, this side of the family were mildly tolerant and actually quite spirited/well-meaning, UNTIL (YES, THIS IS THE TURNING POINT IN THE STORY)

When my dad left the Army, he decided to work for his brother in the aforementioned "stolen furniture company" and 4 years later despite all attempts from my dad to make it kosher, my dad's brother (the owner) gets a massive fine and a court appearance. This convieniently happens exactly the same time as he was having an affair with unemployed pregnant tart "Jackie" who had 3 kids by 3 different men, and "Sherie" was suing for divorce. Plus his eldest daughter had recently nicked £2000 from him and spent the whole lot on clothes, booze, etc etc. So as you can imagine, my dad's brother was in a tight spot, but he dealt with the situation with tact and levity. He made my dad redundant. Bear in mind that my dad has recently been proven to be the best salesman in the county and at the time was making that company A LOT of profit. Also bear in mind that also working for the comapny was a one-eyed war-scarred dogsbody called "John" who was working whilst on unemployment benefits! Why this waste of space wasn't sacked instead is beyond me!!

You'd think that "Nana" would have supported my dad at this point, but no, in her wisdom she decided to support my uncle entirely in his decision, because he was closest to her (in terms of location, not love) showing just what a conceted evil irrational woman she was. This revived the rift between mum/Nana, this time bigger than it has ever been, and around that time she took the opportunity to show my parents what she really thought of them, by moving away and making the rest of the family swear never to tell where she had gone to. We have not spoken to anyone from that family since January 2000. They could all be dead for all we know.

Freakily enough she still had/has an obsession with me, she stills writes random poems and letters to me, along with ridiculously high amounts of money. That I'm not complaining with :) but what really gets me is that she chooses never to regard her own son and daughter-in-law, her own flesh and blood she just cast aside. I can never respect her after her actions over the years.

Apologies for length.
(Sat 15th Jan 2005, 1:05, More)

» Walkman Flashbacks

Here's Where the Story Ends
by Tin Tin Out

Reminds me of a bad caravanning holiday in Aberaeron in 1998. Basically there were 6 of us staying in the caravan 24/7 (it was raining) with 3 dogs, and I played this song on my walkman about 400 times watching the rain travel down the window....

Oh yeah, and the song "Because I Love You" by Stevie B reminds me of when my parents used to put all their favourite songs on tape, and I used to record my "stories" over them. Hehehehe.
(Sat 26th Mar 2005, 14:21, More)

» Obscure Memorabilia

It's so sad
When I was about 10, our class had to write letters to celebrities asking them what their favourite books were. Everyone else was writing to Arnorld Schwarzenegger and Kevin Costner (You can tell what year it was just from those 2 names) with no hope in hell of a reply. Me trying to think of ones as low key as possible wrote to the two old ladies in One Foot In the Grave and the TEST CARD GIRL....

And yes, they all replied. And I still have the letters...... The most humiliating thing is, I was the only one to get a reply from anyone, and had to read them out to the class. People were coming up to me for weeks saying "I DON'T BELIEVE IT" and that I fancied the test card girl....

Also when I was 3 I went to see a panto starring Isla St Clair as the fairy godmother and got invited on stage. I still have the magic wand she gave me... It never worked! The bitch! :)
(Tue 9th Nov 2004, 20:41, More)