» Best Graffiti Ever

Wall!
A huge white wall on Portobello Promenade in Edinburgh once had the following proudly sprayed in three-foot high blue paint:

"Wall! Huh! What is it good for?"

That made my day every time I walked past but the swine from the council painted over it. Philistines.

Another one is more vandalism than graffiti but still seems to fit here. There was a pub in Portobello High Street called The Glassblower which has recently changed its name (to The Central Bar if I remember right). Why the change? Pesky locals kept nicking the G and l from the sign :-)

Ooh, almost forgot - the first time me and the missus went to Prague we saw the word "BAWBAG" scrawled along the side of a lovely ancient building. Hooray for my fellow Scots and their vandalicious ways. Still got a photo of it somewhere, will have to dig it out...
(Fri 4th May 2007, 13:18, More)

» When Animals Attack

Pillow Present
"I once was rudely awakened
by my dog, a little pappillon, squatting on my chest and merrily pissing all over me and my bedsheets.

I am still unable to recreate the noise I made as the full horror of the situation became apparent."

I feel your pain but so much worse. Once when my dog was just a pup I let her come in and sleep on the bed since the missus was away for the weekend - nothing kinky, just a bit of campany you understand. I woke up to find her on my pillow, rolled over to say hi and felt something wet on my cheek.

She'd done a shit right there on the pillow and I got a faceful of it. There's nothing worse than having to change your bedclothes and wipe shit off your face at 4 in the morning. Didn't have the heart or energy to give her a bollocking, thankfully she never repeated the act.
(Tue 29th Apr 2008, 12:49, More)

» Blood

Not so much about the blood...
...well it was the blood that started it anyway. I was just a little 'un, maybe ten years old or something like that, and Hallowe'en was just round the corner. My mum had carved a turnip lantern for me (none of your American pumpkin nonsense back then) and left the room to get some candles. I decided that the lantern needed a hole in the top to let the heat out so I grabbed the forbidden knife and started slicing. Thank god for bones is all I can say, if we didn't have em to get in the way of knives and suchlike I'd be writing this with four fingers...

Anyway blood spewed all over the shop, more than I'd ever seen and I, in utter shock, made a beeline for the bathroom. I could feel a blood-induced spew building up in me so I lurched towards the toilet, just a second too late. The chunder exited my body with such force that half of it hit the wall and left a perfect outline of the toilet bowl, lid and cistern on the wallpaper. It was a work of art.

Almost as class as the look on my mum's face when she followed the screams and the red trails on the carpet to find her precious eldest son in a veritable slaughterhouse of a bathroom...
(Mon 11th Aug 2008, 22:57, More)

» Rock and Roll Stories

Nicko McBrain - salt of the earth!
Were in Glasgow to see Maiden a couple of years back at the SECC and stoped in at some godawful Wetherspoon's just cause it had cheap pre-gig booze. As we stood at the bar to get the umpteenth round who should turn up but Nicko god-damn McBrain. He just leans at the bar next to us, has a nice little chat, gladly signs our tickets and proceeds to have his own rock-n-roll party - pie and chips and a pint of beer. Absolutely top notch guy.
(Fri 30th Jun 2006, 16:11, More)

» Child Labour

Child labour or sweetest job ever?
During my adolescence I worked in my local garage which was adjacent to the high school and across the road from the cop shop. There were only two four-hour shifts a week, both timed to coincide with the car auctions at the other end of town. All I had to do was wait till a driver turned up and pump petrol for them, occasionally checking oil and tyres, selling light bulbs, that kind of thing. My pay? £5 per shift. £1.25 per hour. For a 17 year old.

Sounds like utter abuse but, devious little grunge kid that I was, I found a way to get revenge and make the best out of the situation, on the Friday night shift at least. Booze. Booze and friends. And music. And some pot. But mostly booze. Essentially I turned that place into the top underage drinking spot in town - a couple of friends would turn up after the boss left (about 6:30), would nip down to the shop with some cash from the till and return with whisky and beer. Good times and chaos inevtably ensued.

Memorable incidents include: filling matchbox cars with meths, lighting them and racing them along the counter; having the forecourt so full of young chums that cars couldn't get in; nearly destroying the place when Kurt Cobain died; and collapsing in front of a (thankfully sound) customer after a blowback from a local character. All right under the cops noses :-)

Never got fired either but they did stop leaving the sweets, crisps and drinks out when I was working. The boss was an incurable alky and his wife was an evil whore from hell, known simply as 'the bitch', so I never felt guilty.
(Fri 17th Feb 2006, 13:35, More)