» Food sex

We once ran home at 3am,
after borrowing some cake tins from a friend, with the plan to bake a victoria sandwich then cover each other in it and have sex. By the time we'd preheated the oven, mixed and baked the cake and I'd intricately sliced it in half and filled it with butter cream, the mood had died somewhat, so we kinda just left it to cool and went to bed..
(Mon 10th Aug 2009, 17:12, More)

» The Dark

is the dark
the one where you don't have picnics, and you drink from the ashtray, and you throw up in my shoe?
(Thu 23rd Jul 2009, 17:06, More)

» Eccentrics

War mentals
I seem to have a knack for attracting insane people. The best are the mentalists who are determined to talk about WWII at any given opportunity. This is usually caused by the fact that I often wear a jacket from WWII (I know, I'm a twat. But I've stopped wearing the flat cap). Here are a few examples:

THE WAR-GUILTER
Have you ever been war-guilted? It's horrible. A few summers ago I was having a BBQ with some friends. The back yard was such a mess we basically used to have BBQs on the front doorstep/wall. It was social. We liked it.
On this occasion I was not wearing the military jacket, but jeans and a tshirt. It was a bright summer's day and the BBQ was in full swing. A smartly dressed old man walked by and said good morning. I love it when old people do that. I returned the greeting happily - it was sunny, everything was perfect! "It's a lovely day isn't it!" said he. "Yes is it, I can hardly believe it!" I replied.
He got about 20 yards down the path, stopped, turned around and walked back toward me a few paces. He looked coldly into my eyes and said "it took me nine years to get this. Nine years", indicating a badge on his jacket. Then he walked off down the street, leaving me and my friends quite in shock,

THE OLD BASTARD
Roger, as I soon learned was his name, was having trouble getting served at the bar because he was wasted. He was asking everyone to buy him a drink but they wouldn't and they were wise not to. He had the face of someone you just avoid instincively, so we all went outside to smoke. Seconds later, he was on his way outside, heading straight for us. Then I remembered that I was wearing my military jacket. What followed was an excrutiating discussion about war and death and how lucky we are nowadays. I couldn't be bothered explaining how I didn't think wearing the jacket was disrespectul to WWII soldiers, so I just lied and said I was wearing it in honour of my grandad (who was actually in the airforce - Roger would never know, hee hee hee!).
He went for the buttons. They all do that. "Do you know what we used to call these in the war?" My friend blurted out "buttons", which everyone found hilarious, except for Roger and myself. I was terrified at this point.
Eventually I managed to sidle away from the old man. He found us again after a short while, but his attention was on my friend, who was having to listen to great stories about pit closures and rations. We moved in slowly to rescue him, at which point Roger stopped speaking, turned to my friend (buttons) and shouted "SIT DOWN WHEN YOU'RE SPOKEN TO!"

THE FAT MAN
The reason I own a military jacket is I'm in a sort of ironic army caberet band, then I fell into wearing it casually as it's quite warm and nice. At one of the gigs for the above band I was casually stood outside smoking when a very, very fat man wearing white (of all colours) approached me, point to one of the buttons and said "may I?" What an offer! Of course you can touch my buttons, you lovely fat man. So he did, before deciding he knew exactly which regiment the jacket was from, and declaring that I'd get 10 years in prison for wearing it in the street. I explained that it was part of the act. I mean, imagine getting arrested for impersonating a WWII soldier while playing piano in a gay bar. It's just silly.
Anyway, I went straight back inside and told my mate - who happened to be dressed in exactly the same uniform - that there was a mental fat man outside and he seems like he might be about to war-guilt. He must have left, because I didn't see him for the rest of the night and you'd notice if that fucker walked in.

There was also the man who grabbed me and gave me a full tour of his bag shop when I was just innocently walking past it. It ended with "I don't want to buy a fucking bag okay?". But I'll save that one for another day.
(Fri 31st Oct 2008, 15:56, More)

» Unemployed

i signed on
for about 4 or 5 months in 2006, another useless graduate! I used to hate going to the job centre; having to endure long conversations with other JSA claimers, like the man whose dad wasn't allowed to work cos they said he was in a wheelchair and had one arm or something but thats like not fair and disgusting - well its probably right to be fair; and being basically stripped of my qualifications every week and told they are irrelevant, PLEASE GET ME ANY CREATIVE JOB I WILL EVEN DESIGN FLYERS FOR LOCAL CHURCH GROUPS, software engineering? No. But then I realised you can just get the form and write "I lukd on teh internets and der was nufin" and still get £45 a week.

Could have been worse, I could have fuckin worked there
(Fri 3rd Apr 2009, 11:37, More)

» Workplace Boredom

hmm
When I'm bored at work I usually just stare at the wall. and sometimes I wonder what it would feel like to have radiation poisoning. and sometimes i contemplate whether a starving african would appreciate a glass of fresh orange juice, or if they'd find it a bit tart. if the phone rings I continue staring at the wall, as if I'm on a train looking out of the window trying to avoid being noticed by the conductor (which, by the way, is an outdated tactic. try confidently smiling at the conductor, this has worked for the past 2 weeks. I have a good "ticket face"). Then I check my email again, as someone may have emailed me since 4 minutes ago and its worth a look
(Fri 9th Jan 2009, 11:10, More)