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» Mums

If it's not one thing it's your mother
Shameless pearost coming up...

My mum has never been one for looking after cars. Combining her boot fair addiction and interest in plants the car normally looks like a rag and bone van. Think moss on the dashboard (I kid thee not).

As a driver myself (and not a particularly good passenger) its quite rare for me to ever travel with her. However one unforftunate day I was forced to accept a lift in the Red-Death-Mobile as my car had broken down. Thats when the fun started:

1.) Every time she braked the oil-light would come on.
2.) The steering wheel visibly shook side to side from a "coming-together" with a kurb.
3.) Speed bumps were taken at 40mph+ (think dukes of hazard stylee).
4.) She was not happy about going out of her way to collect me.

Being a male (read petrolhead) I decided it was only reasonable for me to let her know the dangerous faults with her car (and some of her creative driving habits). Oh boy... NOT a good idea.

Full-on hystrionics about how her driving was always good enough when I was a kid and wanted to go to a friends. The more irate she got the more faults I mentioned. After 2 minutes of throwing the car (even more) around she screeches to a halt in a side road screaming "GET OUT...IF ALL YOU ARE GOING TO DO IS INSULT MY CAR YOU CAN WALK!". We werent that far from home anyway so I decided it was probably safer.

The following memory will live with me forever:

I climb out and close the car door looking at a betroot-faced mum still fuming with rage. Tapping on the window she lowers it expecting an apology. With a smile on my face I then handed her back the door handle from the car.

Both of us cried with laughter and had to sit in the car for 10minutes to calm down before I drove the red-shed back home.
(Thu 11th Feb 2010, 14:15, More)

» Being told off as an adult

You can bl**dy walk!
My mum has never been one for looking after cars. Combining her boot fair addiction and interest in plants the car normally looks like a rag and bone van. Think moss on the dashboard (I kid thee not).

As a driver myself (and not a particularly good passenger) its quite rare for me to ever travel with her. However one unforftunate day I was forced to accept a lift in the Red-Death-Mobile as my car had broken down. Thats when the fun started:

1.) Every time she braked the oil-light would come on.
2.) The steering wheel visibly shook side to side from a "coming-together" with a kurb.
3.) Speed bumps were taken at 40mph+ (think dukes of hazard stylee).
4.) She was not happy about going out of her way to collect me.

Being a male (read petrolhead) I decided it was only reasonable for me to let her know the dangerous faults with her car (and some of her creative driving habits). Oh boy... NOT a good idea.

Full-on hystrionics about how her driving was always good enough when I was a kid and wanted to go to a friends. The more irate she got the more faults I mentioned. After 2 minutes of throwing the car (even more) around she screeches to a halt in a side road screaming "GET OUT...IF ALL YOU ARE GOING TO DO IS INSULT MY CAR YOU CAN WALK!". We werent that far from home anyway so I decided it was probably safer.

The following memory will live with me forever:

I climb out and close the car door looking at a betroot-faced mum still fuming with rage. Tapping on the window she lowers it expecting an apology. With a smile on my face I then handed her back the door handle from the car.

Both of us cried with laughter and had to sit in the car for 10minutes to calm down before I drove the red-shed back home.
(Fri 21st Sep 2007, 18:08, More)

» The B3TA Confessional

Forgive me mother
My mum was and still is an avid gardener. During my teenagers years I would regularly volunteer to light the heater in her greenhouse. (for the unitiated this is basically an adjustable wick in a pan of paraffin). I did however have an ulterior motive... it meant I could have a cheeky cigarette whilst I did it.

All was going reasonably well as I tugged away on an Embassy No 1 that I'd "borrowed" from my dad. In hindsight I probably should have been paying a little more attention. Leaning down to stub out the cigarette I noticed the unusual orange hue at the far end of the greenhouse. Whilst puffing away and contemplating how dirty Jessica Browne must be in bed I hadn't realised that I had put a little too much paraffin in the heater. By now the entire heater (not just the wick) and the staging (its a posh word for wooden shelves in a greenhouse apparently) were now totally engulfed in flames.

It my panic, I grabbed the large and handily placed jug of water sat on the floor. Deciding the fire was getting out of hand I threw the contents at the inferno that used to be her tomatoes...

and it would have worked perfectly....

had it been water in the jug and not 2 litres of Paraffin.

Surprised doesn't do it justice... I stood there open mouthed, gawping as the cucumbers disappeared into the blaze. Thinking quickly I ran down the garden and grabbed the hose. Eventually I managed to put out Hades greenhouse. Before returning indoors and pretending nothing had happened. So some 15 years later...

Mum, im afraid the paraffin heater didn't raze your greenhouse. I did, so sorry!
(Thu 26th Aug 2010, 14:28, More)

» Caught!

Trying to be quiet when drunk never works.
Please picture the scene.. A young (read cocky) skintagain has spent an evening drinking with his new "posh" work colleagues in town. This is his first job out of university and he's feeling particularly smug as he's managed to convince one of his female colleagues to come back for some horizontal jiggery-pockery. The only problem is that he is still living with his mum, its 3am and he realises hes doesn't have his house keys.

Not a problem, mum always leaves the back door unlocked in the summer. Whilst the young maiden stood/swayed in the cool summer breeze, our hero clambers manfully onto the side gate. Thoughts of the disgusting acts he planned on later swimming around in his head. He brashly turns to wink as his lady friend, before diving feet first from the top of the gate......

.... straight into an open wheeley bin.

The bin promptly fell onto its side, with the open end against the wall. Our hero has now totally lost his compusure and is shouting muffled profanities at Bexley Council Waste Refuse Department. Hearing the commotion, a neighbour opens his window just at the moment to see a suited, drunk tourrettes sufferer clambering out, only to discover the back door was sodding locked.

In the end our hero consigned himself to ringing the doorbell and introducing his "friend" from work to his mother, whilst removing potato-peelings from his suit.
(Wed 9th Jun 2010, 14:42, More)

» Sexism

Reverse Sexism... and it has nothing to do with parallel parking
I think this post is concrete proof that any comparison of gender, religion, race, likes or dislikes is entirely derived from a persons upbringing and subject to their gender, religion, race, likes and dislikes. Human nature is like that, we work best that way. Communities need diversity in order to survive and evolve so no one of these things is better (or worse) than the other.

However, let me add one thing to the mix.. Common sodding sense!

If, as a female you are carrying two heavy bags up a flight of stairs and I offer to help, please choose one of the following options:
a.) Say "Thank you" and let me carry one of the bags
b.) Think "You look like a paedo" and say "No thank you"

DO NOT righteously say "I'm quite capable" and stagger up the stairs. I know you have two arms and two legs but its a lot chuffing easier if two people do it. Im not trying to be a stereotypical knight in shining armour. There is no veiled sexism in my offer, I am merely being friendly and had failed to realise you were a militant feminist...

with lovely pert bouncy breasts.
(Tue 5th Jan 2010, 12:36, More)
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