» The Dark

The dark, the ring and the scared shitless
Going back a few years now I did something truly evil in the dark and I have still not had my apology accepted.

After spending a lovely boozy night out with my friend Ana we had made it back to her flat in the wee hours of the morning a little how shall we say, inebriated and in a bit of a silly mood.

Zigzagging up her garden path Ana was at the front door struggling with her keys while I wandered up to the living room window and spied her hubby and his mates all crashed out on the sofas watching a film. I proceeded to wave manically at the guys expecting one of them to notice me and let us in – this didn’t happen. It was then I realised they couldn’t see me through the window as it was so dark outside so I did what any sensible well-adjusted grownup would do and pulled faces at them and stuck my fingers up, Ana hearing my hysterical giggles staggered over and joined in.

After a few minutes I stopped being a dick and noticed what they were watching on the TV, it was The Ring. Ahaahahahaaaaa thought I – bloody brilliant! Seeing as I had seen the film already I knew roughly how far they were into it and I realised that in about 5 minutes time the phone would ring on the screen. I rummaged crazily for my mobile whilst filling in Ana on my dastardly plan.

The second the phone appeared on the screen and we could just about hear it ringing through the window I frantically rang Ana’s other half and we prayed that he had his mobile phone near him… he did. We watched with glee as all the guys started giggling nervously and pointed at his phone. He picked it up, pressed the call button and I put on my best spooky voice and whispered ‘In seven days you will die’ I then hung up the phone and me and Ana threw ourselves against the window in unison, scaring the shit out of every guy in the room and making them produce high pitch squeals that would make a 4 year old girl proud!!

It goes down in history as being the most successful prank I have every played to this day and if mentioned around the boys it always receives the same response – ‘we knew it was you, I wasn’t scared’… sure, sure! Mwah ha haaaa!
(Mon 27th Jul 2009, 17:06, More)

» IT Support

The Mug.
My old IT Manager was a great bloke. His name was Chris and he was an avid Arsenal supporter, he commuted to Salisbury from London everyday and was always perky and happy to help - I assume he was always perky because of the vast amount of coffee he consumed on a daily basis, and that swiftly brings me onto his coffee mug. As Chris was a monster Arsenal supporter, he had a monster Arsenal mug; this thing was HUGE and you usually knew what desk he was working at when you saw THE MUG. Now about a month after the mug had been introduced it started going walkabout. Due to its gargantuan size some of the guys in the office had taken a shine to it so started stealing it from the kitchen in the mornings and using it themselves… this made Chris rather upset.

Sorting out my computer one afternoon I asked Chris where his mug was, he told me someone in the phones office had it. I asked him if it pissed him off that people kept taking it and he said it was driving him nuts but he didn’t want any confrontation about it - he was actually considering buying a replacement. I thought that was ridiculous and told him as much and said he should just tell the guys to buy their own sodding mugs and take it back. He pondered this suggestion, said he would have a think and sulked off back to his cupboard. The next day I came back in from lunch to the sound of raised voices in the phones office. I wandered in to find Chris holding his mug triumphantly in the air laying into a guy called Steve. Chris was going ballistic at him. Spit flying freely from his open mouth, eyeballs bulging, forehead reddening, finally he stormed off out of the office slamming the door behind him. I asked what had just happened and everyone started telling me how Chris had just snapped at Steve because he found him drinking out of his beloved mug. Feeling very guilty I snuck back to my desk and hid.

Five minutes later I received an email from Chris… Subject heading: Thank you. Feeling highly embarrassed I opened up the email and read what Chris had to say. Turns out he had taken my advice. He had pulled Steve to the side earlier in the day and asked him if he wouldn’t mind telling people not to use his mug anymore… Steve agreed but decided that the guys probably wouldn't listen to him either and hatched a plan for Chris to go mental at him in front of everyone, thus nailing the point home that Chris was a bad ass and not to be fucked with. Well it bloody worked, and office gossip as it was, by the end of the week the accounts team had been told that Chris had apparently beaten Steve in the face with his mug and verbally bashed everyone in the office. From then on no one took his mug and it was always clean and in the cupboard when Chris wanted it. :)
(Fri 25th Sep 2009, 11:56, More)

» Famous people I hate

Golden Arches and Coulrophobia
Famous People I hate? Instead of giving you a list of people which are already on here 1,000 times I’ll do something different and take you back to the late 80’s when a wee me was only interested in one famous person… Ronald McDonald.

As it was swingin’ 1989 my sister was very much into Jason Donovan and Kylie, I was still a little too young to care, my thoughts were more linked to my stomach, specifically the mascot of the best place to eat in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD! We were never really taken to Maccy D’s when we were little, my mother didn’t really approve of fast food, so my only chance to go would be if one of my lucky friends had a birthday party there. Well one wonderful weekend I received an invitation for a McParty and my heart did somersaults, not only was I going to be able to get a Happy Meal but I was also going to be able to meet Ronald Mc-Bloody-Donald!

Restless nights lead up to the party and finally when the big day arrived I was giddy with sheer unadulterated excitement. My mum dropped me off in my little frock and I tentatively placed my foot over the threshold of the Golden Arches… I… was… in. Much screaming and merriment ensued and once we had all suitably stuffed our faces with burgers and cake we were racing around burning off the energy playing hide and seek. Madly giggling with the birthday girl we had discovered a perfect hiding place underneath a table and awaiting being found… all of a sudden a big pair of yellow gloves appeared and pulled me out from under the table. I was lifted up, past the stripy socks, past the yellow suit to… the scariest face I had ever seen in my life! I recoiled instantly, bringing my hands up to my face. This wasn’t right, he wasn’t the jolly, small Ronald McDonald I knew from the cartoon pictures on my Happy Meal box, this was a big man with blood red lips and yellow teeth, right in my face - he was horrifying. I screamed and struggled as he guffawed and chucked ‘found you, found you’ and waved his arms in my face, he smelt of stale cigarettes and sweat, this was not my beloved Ronald. I looked over for help but the mums were busying themselves chatting and eating the remaining cake, they couldn’t give a crap that they had left the kids with this… monster. He started bouncing me up and down asking where the birthday girl was and I knew at that moment I was either going to cry or lash out, I chose the latter. I squeaked ‘put me down’ but he didn’t seem to hear or care, so I did the only other thing I could think of and kicked him.

As a child you don’t know much about testicles but now I’m older and I like to think a little wiser, I can categorically say that I’m 100% sure I kicked him square in his McNuggets. He dropped to the floor and exhaled painfully and I darted across the restaurant like a demented squirrel to the mums. ‘I don’t like it, I don’t like it’ I howled and pointed at poor Ronald who was now attempting to compose himself for the other children. He staggered over and tried to find out what was the matter with me, but it was too late, the damage had been done. I was petrified and only wanted to go home. My mum was called and I was taken early and I’ve never felt the same way about clowns as I did before that day.

Damn you Ronald McDonald, you are entirely responsible my crippling fear of clowns, you ruddy plum. P.S I'm sorry I kicked you in your 'special parts'.
(Fri 5th Feb 2010, 13:54, More)

» The most childish thing you've done as an adult

Lego Pirate Dreams
Picture the scene. Its Christmas day, I’m huddled under the tree with my older sister and there is only one present left. It’s big and it’s marked up for the both of us and it’s from the big red jolly man himself. We give one another a knowing look… Lego. It has to be the Lego pirate ship! Over the months leading up to Christmas we had banged on about nothing else, we wanted the pirate ship and that was all there was to it.

Tearing open the colourful wrapping paper, our eyes filled with glee, we saw… we saw… LEGOOOO! Only… no… this can’t be right… its… some sort of hospital and a police station… wha…? Obviously we were happy and we were lucky to get anything for Christmas, we weren’t ungrateful little bastards, but we still craved the pirate ship.

Speed up 15 years later (wavy lines) and I’m being dragged around Bluewater by my mother and sister. My mums in a craft shop and has settled in for the long haul and I’m craving sweets so I wander off to find something exciting… instead of sweets I find the Lego Store. Even though I’m supposed to be an adult I wander in anyway, grinning from ear to ear at all the lovely things on display. Looking around… then I see it. THE NEW AND IMPROVED, BEAUTIFULLY BIG, IT’S THE LEGO PIRATE SHIP!!! ‘Holy Shit’ I whisper and run out of the store to find my sister. Barely able to string a sentence together I grab her arm and pull her into the store pointing frantically at the ship. Her reaction is similar to mine and we danced around the store arm in arm singing ‘yippeeeee’. There is a problem though… the bastard thing is £80!! £80!!! No wonder my parents didn’t get it for us as kids. But then I remember - I’m a grown up and I have a credit card, so I pull the box off the shelf, wink at my sister, march over to the counter and pay for the bad boy!

That night we sat at the dining room table drinking copious amounts of Jack Daniels and put together the ship which we had wanted 15 years for. It was truly fun and I would highly recommend searching out the lost toys of your youth and sharing the fun with your family and friends, next on my list… a Mr Frosty! :D
(Mon 21st Sep 2009, 11:35, More)

» I don't understand the attraction

Rugby vs Cartoons
Rugby. Now don’t get me wrong, I enjoy watching the occasional game now I am a grown up, but when I was little I bloody hated it. Whenever my dad was at home it seemed like the rugby was on. I’d tear home from school, lunchbox swinging in the breeze, eager to watch Daffy Duck call someone ‘despicable’ but when I got to the living room the result would usually be the same - my dad levitating above the sofa screaming ‘GO ON MY SON’ at the telly while a man ran on some mud with the weirdest-shaped ball I’d ever seen. I just didn’t get the fascination so would do the usual kid thing and hang around whining ‘daaaaaad, can I watch cartooooooooons pleaseeee’… ‘how long does this go on for’… ‘can I have chips for tea tonight, daaaaaad’. That poor man, I feel quite bad about it now but I was a kid and it was my job to complain – surely!?

Anyhoo, one particular day I started up my moaning and my dad did something different. Instead of turning up the tv or clamping his hands to his ears to block out my howls, he put the tv on mute and asked me to come and sit with him on the sofa. He gave me a hug, took the tv off mute and proceeded to point out players on the screen. He sat with me and explained the entirety of the sport; who each player was, their position, what their job was etc. I sat with him for the whole game, to me it seemed like it went on for hours, but for the first time they were enjoyable hours. My dads always been a man of few words so to hear him talk at length about anything was pretty gosh darn impressive to me so I sat and listened intently.

After the game he told me that he would be playing rugby in a week or so and asked if I wanted to come and see him. I was actually excited at the concept of watching my dad be the man with the ball so I agreed and my mother took me, my older sister and my younger brother to watch my dad play rugby for the RAF vs NAVY match. I don’t remember much of what happened that day, other than it being bloody cold on the sidelines in the rain but every time my dad ran past me I cheered with all the might I could muster so he knew that I cared.

It’s a shame I didn’t retain all the information he taught me on that day, but I like to think a little bit of it hung around as now I can happily watch a game without feeling like I’m missing out on cartoons!
(Thu 15th Oct 2009, 16:52, More)