» The Police

Bad news and worse news
My friend's sister was tragically killed while on her gap year in Africa.

A new WPC (who has kept in contact with the family) was given the task of breaking the news to her mum and dad. It was the first such "tell the relatives" thing she had had to do.

She and a colleague drive up to her parent house to tell them the bad news. There is a crunch on the drive way. Not only have the parents lost their only daughter but now their cat too.

I suppose the conversation could only be "I have some bad news and some really bad news...".
(Thu 22nd Sep 2005, 10:40, More)

» I hurt my rude bits

BMX Bum Rape
1982. I was 11. Woolworth's finest BMX, the Scorcher was my wheels and it looked good. Chrome body, silver pattern, blue mag wheels and a blue seat. A long, hard, pointy blue seat...

My mates had grifters and old choppers and improvised racers with bull horn handlebars. My bike rocked by comparison. Off we went to the local building site where some raised manhole covers made good jumps.

All was going well until I landed front wheel first. I went forward over the handlebars and performed a very elegant handstand. The BMX though continued on its path to glory and the seat (that one, the long, blue, hard one) found a handstanding young boy's bottom hole just too much to resist and entered with some force.

Apparently, the sight of an 11 year old unable to move from the handstand position and screaming for a bike to be removed from his bottom was a sight to behold.
(Tue 18th Jul 2006, 12:18, More)

» Cringe!

What a tanned tummy
It was summer. I had met my girlfriend after work at the train station and we walked up the road to the local mini-mart to get a bottle of wine. I went down one ailse, her the other.

I went to the counter with my purchase then noticed that my girlfriend had a very tanned torso under her crop top. "I never noticed you had such a good tan," said I as I rubbed her tummy in an affectionate / bawdy manner.

"I don't!" she replied. From behind the woman whose naked stomach I was rubbing.

(Why I though my girlfriend who had just got back from work as a lawyer would have a cropped top on I don't know - probably too used to talking to her chest)
(Thu 27th Nov 2008, 19:39, More)

» When animals attack...

Monkey money shot
An attractive female friend of mine, lets call her Amanda, spent some time as a student in a jungle encampment. She arrived a few days after one of the blokes there. He was a nice chap by all accounts but slightly weird. Let's call him Mr. C. He took some pride in the fact that in the few days he's been there he'd managed to become companions with the resident pet monkey. Apparently it would sit on his shoulders all the time, take food from him, scamper around after him, etc.

Amanda was lying on hammock one day when Mr. C came over with monkey in tow. The best thing about the monkey from Mr. C's point of view is that it was the perfect ice breaker and he proceeded to chat to Amanda about monkey related things: "isn't the monkey cute. Look how much he likes having his tummy rubbed etc."

Anyhoo, Mr. C is chatting up Amanda and casually stroking the monkey's tummy. However whenever he removes his hand the monkey becomes quite agitated and puts Mr. C's hand back onto his tummy and Mr. C continues to chat away to Amanda while stroking his monkey (?).

It's a pleasant conversation - marred only by the sudden and calamitous outpouring of the monkey's loins all over the face of Amanda. Apparently the look of alarm on Mr. C's face was second only to the smug look on the monkeys.
(Wed 8th Jun 2005, 10:34, More)

» Childhood Ambitions

Not being a werewolf
My childhood ambition was to not be a werewolf.

On a long car journey back from our static caravan in Wales, my mother informed her young son that he had not been christened.

Having just heard that from one of the scallywags on the caravan park that people who are werewolves will only turn into werewolves (a) if they had not been christened and (b) when they reached 18, I naturally assumed that on reaching 18 everyone who had not been christened would turn into a werewolf.

It took several hours to convince me to stop blubbing about what life had in store for me and several years for the nagging fear to finally leave me. It gets mentioned several times - on growing my first bit of bumfluff, "must be the first signs of 'the change'" and of course on my 18th birthday.

Not content on that I was later informed that I couldn't be my preferred choice of non-lycanthropic professional, a pilot. Nor my second, a soldier. Nor my third, a sailor. Apparently I have very poor colour vision...just like wolves...I support Wolves...I am from woleverhampton... its all beginning to fit. Oh no...
(Thu 29th Mar 2007, 12:20, More)