» Crazy Relatives

he died without benefit of clergy
I used to dread the visits to my Great Aunt Theresa's house.

She lived with her brother who I'm assured was as "reality-starved" as her but didn't hardly say a word.

When I was 6 or 7, she was telling us about the large family of people (called 'morons' apparently) that lived in the rug in the hall. She seemed terrified of them so I thought I'd protect her & stamp all over them. She got terribly upset & we had to leave a bit smartish.

The year after that, we were on our annual visit just before Christmas & noticed that her budgie (Joey) had coughed it & was lying, feet up, at the bottom of the cage. My Dad pointed out to her in no uncertain terms that Joey was dead. She wouldn't hear a word of it. That budgie was alive and you'd be a fool to suggest otherwise.

The next year, Joey was still at the bottom of the cage. Mum urged us not to say anything, so we didn't.

When we returned the next year & found Joey still in the same place, I decided to mention it. She leaned over him & started talking to him. She pointed out to me that his chest feathers were moving so he must be alive because he's breathing.

Being Mr Diplomacy, I didn't reply that it was only her breath moving Joey's feathers and that the poor lad would have difficulty breathing with the empty ribcage & dried up skull that I was currently looking at.
(Tue 10th Jul 2007, 19:18, More)

» My Greatest Regrets

He always thought I was "special"
My cousin & I had spent the previous weekend trying to out-do each other with "Derek & Clive" gross-out comments.

So I decided to try to up the ante when I rang her the next weekend after spending the afternoon in the beer garden. But I rang from a landline & thought I remembered her number.

Which is why my Granddad woke up the next morning to an answerphone message informing him I was going to kick him in the c*** until his tits explode.
(Mon 9th Oct 2006, 18:16, More)

» Apparently I'm a sex offender

It wasn't only the car that got serviced...
I used to work as the PA to the manager of a Toyota & Lexus garage 1/2 way between Brixton & Streatham.

We used to get quite a few shady characters getting their top of the range Lexi (a-ha!) serviced which normally went to the most senior mechanic on duty since they were so difficult - I saw more work done with a laptop than with a spanner.

So it wasn't that unusual to get a visit from the police to ask about service records for cars that had been impounded in relation to drugs offences or gun crime. One morning, two coppers arrived & had a meeting with my boss.

I had to swiftly organise a disciplinary meeting with one of the junior mechanics. They always had to take the car on a test drive after a service to see if everything was running OK.

Turned out this guy had been photographed by the police picking up a prozzie on Streatham High Road in a customer's car. The police had sent a summons to the owner's house & he had proved to them that the car was being serviced by us at the time the offence happened.

So the mechanic obviously had to be sacked but even the manager admitted that, unofficially, the guy was a f***ing legend. The reception he got from all the other mechanics as he left the site was like a conquering hero.

And I particularly liked the idea of the owner's missus giving him a hard time as he was a right bastard
(Mon 21st Aug 2006, 12:48, More)

» Barred

You're only barred if you remember where from
This only happened last Saturday. I was staggering home from a works leaving do in some god-forsaken area of Saaarf London (Camberwell, to be exact)and trying to find a bus stop.

Already very drunk, I decided that some more beers would lubricate the journey nicely. It was about 2am & I popped into a Costcutter. Only one guy behind the till & no shutters over the booze.

Stepped smartly to the counter with a four-pack of Stella but the guy told me he couldn't serve me this late. I pleaded, tried the matey approach, offered him the cash so he could ring it up in the morning (or pocket it himself, should he desire). No joy. This guy was a rock.

So I waited until he started serving another customer & strolled out with a box of 12 beers under my arm.

He followed me for about 50 yards down the street & told me in no uncertain terms that I was barred & should never darken his doors again.

Not sure if the fact I haven't got a clue where this shop is located makes it easier or more difficult to avoid it. I have visions of going into a shop whilst sober & suited for work & being chased out by a shopkeeper with a better memory for faces.

Don't think it's the length I need apologise for, is it?
(Tue 5th Sep 2006, 18:49, More)

» DIY fashion

I still think I looked pretty sharp
11 years old on the end of school year outing to Thorpe Park.

My style icon was Vyvian from The Young Ones.

So I turned up wearing a man's denim shirt (that I hoped to pass off as a denim jacket)from a jumble sale with the bottom 6" and the cuffs cut off as it was too big.

And le piece de resistance? A length of plug chain stapled from shoulder to shoulder.

Said jacket was confiscated by a teacher. I asked if it was because I could use the chain as an offensive weapon? "No, you just look like a berk"

Said by a man who was the spitting image of Derek Smalls & wearing a Norwich football shirt
(Sat 26th Aug 2006, 13:02, More)