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Smale is an independent cheese designer. Originally from Cheshire, he now lives in comfort in France, the country with the highest cheese-to-person ratio in the world.

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» Lies that went on too long

The twenty year lie
Five of us shared a house in the last year of university, all blokes trying to find jobs. Bob had a particularly good opportunity with a bank, which was his absolute dream job. Now Bob was the kind of person who professed to taking massive drugs. The night before his interview we were sitting round having a drink and Bob was giving us his drugs stories. Mike produced a small pink pill and offered it to Bob, saying he didn’t know what it was, but it was reputedly strong stuff. Bob took the pill and necked it. For the rest of the evening he professed to feeling a little light-headed but nothing odd.

Next day Bob went off for his interview, returning late afternoon with a tale of woe: another candidate had said there was a drugs test as part of the interview process. Knowing he’d taken an unknown drug the night before, Bob had run out of the offices. Bye-bye nice job. Mike felt awful. He’d told the rest of us that the pink pill was in fact a child’s sore-throat tablet: he’d given it to Bob as a joke, and now Bob had messed up the offer of a good job. Mike couldn’t bear to tell Bob the truth.

We all kept in touch as we eventually found jobs and moved away, found girls and settled down into the middle-class routine of work, marriage, kids. Except Bob: he drifted in and out of temporary jobs, travelling to Eastern Europe and then Asia. Eventually he moved to Australia, moved in with a girl and took a job which was nothing special, but allowed him to live. While the rest of us kept in touch, Mike and Bob’s friendship was strained. All this time Mike was thinking to himself that he’d caused this by his lie: if only he’d told Bob the trick on the day of the interview, or even just afterwards, Bob might have had another chance, got the job, and had a different life.

Ten years after leaving university we all met up again: the first time that Bob and Mike had seen each other for many years. As we caught up with each other’s lives, and Bob explained his happy-go-lucky existence, Mike couldn’t hold it back any longer and burst out with the story about the tablet: he was so sorry, he felt awful. Bob was silent: he stared at Mike, and shook his head slowly. “That’s all right mate, water under the bridge, hey?” he said. “Still, I wonder what might have been…” We all took a sip from our pints and stared at the table in silence for a while.

Mike left the get-together soon after. As soon as he was gone Bob burst out laughing. He’d realised the pill was nothing. In reality he’d had a change of heart as he got off the tube to go to the interview: did he really want to spend his life commuting to work with everyone else, and settle down to play happy families? He’d had a great time travelling the world, and he couldn’t be happier where he was now.

That was 10 years ago. Bob still hasn’t told Mike. In fact he didn’t like Mike much anyway; losing his friendship was no loss as far as he was concerned. The twenty-year lie, still going.
(Mon 12th Mar 2012, 14:52, More)

» Lies that went on too long

My own death
When I was about 10 or 11 my class at school was encouraged to get a penfriend in Africa. It was organized through some charity, and the idea was to make us more culturally aware, or something. So I ended up writing to some boy around my age in Nigeria.

It started off quite interesting and fun, we sent photos of ourselves and shared information about schools, but after a while I ran out of things to say, and he started asking if I would send shoes, or money, or help him get to school in Britain. I felt embarassed about this. So I faked my own death. I didn't write for a couple of months, then I sent a letter, trying to disguise my handwriting, explaining how I was Smale's dad, and Smale had tragically died in a road accident so he wouldn't be able to write anymore, ok? Bye.

But my penfriend wrote back, expressing his sadness, and asking for more details. Stupidly I couldn't resist elaborating on the road accident. So then he wrote back again, asking for a photo, to remember me by. So I sent one, and thanked him for his concern, and we exchanged a few more letters, but finally the correspondence faded away.

But then the charity who organised the thing in the first place decided that they would arrange some exchange visits with our school. They wrote to the head mistress. They expressed their sadness at my untimely death. The headmistress called me into her office. "You're looking well Smale," she said when I went in, "considering you died 6 months ago."
(Fri 9th Mar 2012, 13:23, More)

» Real-life slapstick

Peanuts
My sister-in-law was driving her boss's Porsche to the airport to pick him up. While waiting in the carpark she opened a pack of peanuts to have a snack but, as sometimes happens, as she opened the pack the nuts came spraying out all over the car.

She rapidly cleaned up all the nuts and salt, just before her boss arrived. 'Everything ok with my car?', he asked. "No problems!" squeaked his secretary, and they set off.

It was a hot day so he put the air blower on full blast, whereupon peanuts came blasting out of the air vents, including one which hit him on the nose.
(Wed 27th Jan 2010, 12:53, More)

» Breasts

Cat
My wife convinced me to get a kitten, so we did, a very cute black one. I'd asked for a male, as boys are best and once they're neutered they're no trouble. Within days of having the kitten at home, and stroking his lovely fluffy tummy, I noticed that 'he' had nipples, and not just two. So I called the vet to warn him.
Me: My male cat's got nipples so I'm worried he's actually female
Vet: Is that Mr Smale I'm talking to?
Me: Yes
Vet: I bet you've got nipples too.
Me: **embarassed that I could be so dim**
(Thu 6th May 2010, 15:05, More)

» Food sex

Yoghurt
So a female friend of mine had some kind of funghal infection in her ladybits and the doctor had told her the best way to deal with it was to apply natural yoghurt. Said ladyfriend started off dribbling a teaspoonful in, then a desert spoon with some light rubbing, then a cupful massaged in, you get the idea. She found it was a very pleasurable sensation and even after her infection was cured would regularly pleasure herself with a carton of yoghurt.

So having told me this while being, ahem, intimate, she suggested we should try sex with yoghurt as a lubricant. I couldn't think of a reason not too, so she liberally applied yoghurt to her parts and I plunged in. And yes, not at all unpleasant.

But there are some disadvantages:
- never fall asleep after sex with yoghurt all over you. It stinks.
- never have yoghurt sex when it's very hot. It goes all lumpy and looks like puke.
- never have yoghurt sex if you're very hairy. You can't wash it out and your genitals will smell like a dairy for days if not weeks.
- never give oral sex to someone who's got a hairy minge and has been wanking with yoghurt the whole summer.
(Thu 6th Aug 2009, 16:45, More)
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