» School Projects

Gae Paree (Gay Paris)
When I was about thirteen and doing French at my secondary school, the teacher asked us to make a french themed collage.

Mine took about five minutes to make:

1. A picture of a couple kissing on a bench in front of the Eiffel Tower.
2. Another picture of a french bloke.
3. Gullotined woman's head off.
4. Glued other bloke's head on.
5. Scrawled 'Gay Paris' over the top.
6. Handed said juxtaposed masterpiece to teacher.
7. Returned to drawing penises on heads of all the tour de france cyclists in the text book.
(Fri 14th Aug 2009, 10:18, More)

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

Now and again, whilst my wife is quietly reading
I just like to SLAP the book out of her hands and walk off without saying a word.
(Fri 18th Sep 2009, 10:03, More)

» Asking people out

Squeaky Voice
One night (five years ago or so) at a nightclub just off Oxford Street, I was dancing with this girl. She seemed keen, and I wasn't even that put off by her odd squeaky high-pitched voice.

However, her mate told my mate to tell me that she was married, and that I shouldn't expect too much. Anything in fact.

But she genuinely seemed keen. She did. She DID. She even asked for my mobile number.

She even said she'd be coming back to the same nightclub the following week.

A week later, plus an unwise number of beers on top of that, in she walks, along with a coterie of pals, both male and female. Squeaky-voice goes to the bar. Alone.

I amble over and explain that she's right fit and she obviously had fun last week, and my mate was clearly confused about some whole marriage thing he was blabbing on about.

"Oh no" she squeaked, "my husband is sitting just over there!"
I looked in the direction that Squeaky-voice was pointing in, possibly putting a hand over one eye to aid focusing.
"Him?"
"Yes."
"But, he'sh ugly... I'm betterr looken than im an I ain't all that."

I then proceeded to badger the poor squeakyvoiced lady for a further 5-10 minutes, along the lines of "But he's ugly. I am almost certainly cleverer than him. And better company." All slurred to fuck.

And the odd thing was, she put up with it. No drink poured over me. No pithy piss off. Not even a polite "Well it's been nice to meet you again but..."

I eventually gave up. I have the distinct feeling that that was one of those nights where I woke up the next morning without the slightest clue as to how I got home.

For your patience, Squeakyvoiced lady, I salute you. You seem like an excellent wife, and if I wasn't now married, I'd have another pop at you. You champ.
(Fri 11th Dec 2009, 8:48, More)

» Teenage Crushes - Part Two

Hammer Horror films late at night
With the sound down so as to not alert the parents.

Exhibit A from 'Lust For A Vampire':
www.moviemarket.com/library/photos/210/210882.jpg

And

Exhibits B & C from 'Twins of Evil':
i14.photobucket.com/albums/a330/ray_luxury_yacht/funnies/E94_collinson-twins.jpg
(Wed 11th Nov 2009, 11:46, More)

» Buses

"BUS"ting for a pee, Comrades 4eva, Ignorant Proles, Half-Remembered Lies

The drunk Spainard who sat at the top deck front window seat, did a piss which leaked onto the driver's head. Bus stops. Driver bounds up the stairs and had to be restrained by passengers, who also told the Spainard to get off the bus, or the driver would be let loose. Spainard got off the bus, and was so drunk, he threw a traffic cone at a different bus driving past, causing the bus to swerve all over the shop (the shop being Bishopsgate outside Liverpool St station).

Sitting at the back of a nightbus, coming back from a club with a bunch of friends. In between trying to think of another song to do in a Cockney/Bill Bailey style, I accidentally make eye contact with a jovial loner clutching a half empty vodka bottle. Jovial loner treats the passing glance as if it were a personal invitation to sit with us and be our new friend. After several polite refusals of a swig, I hint to my friend/housemate that "THIS IS OUR STOP" (actually a couple of stops before where we lived, but I didn't want friendly freak man to know that). "Oh this is my stop too. Do you want to come round to my house and smoke some grass?" Cue another 30mins of me and housemate walking around Stockwell in the cold trying to shake freaky loner man.

Catching another nightbus home from a club (in Clerkenwell). A drunk, but well spoken man gets onto the bus and states that he doesn't have any money, but he should be allowed to ride the bus for free (I think he talked about human rights or somesuch). The bus driver was having none of it, and said loudly so that all could hear: "Until you pay, or you get off, this bus ain't going nowhere." No-one was going to pay for him, and he just stood next to the drivers cabin doing his best to rationally convince the driver to let him have a free ride. After about 2-3 mins, I decided to join in the discussion. A few minutes later he got off the bus due to my devastating intellect, and rock solid argument based on utilitarianism. As the bus resumed its journey, I got exactly zero thanks for my efforts from the driver and passengers. Fucking ignorant proles.

And here's one nicked from my friend's blog, but since it stars me, it isn't plagiarism:
The bus ride home was the worse bit. Theremin decided to sit opposite two fine boho gurls and do "sexy" faces at them when they (quite understandably) fled and he then grabbed hold of me and started bellowing, "LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE .... YOU'VE SCARED THEM OFF! .... WITH YOUR PASTY GOLLUM FACE ...." He then paused and noticed a large middle aged woman get on the bus and take the seats that the boho girls were sitting on and spat out, "Oh! great now we're left with .... Rosanne Barr". The look on that poor woman's face is something i'll never forget.
But it gets worse....
Theremin then fell in to a dark & deep sleep - his body motionless & silent punctuated only by the occasional twitch soundtracked by the spoken sigh of the names of the girls he had died a thousand times inside for. The bus then terminated at London Bridge but Theremin wouldn't wake up. Everyone got off the bus and the driver turned the lights off. The bus driver then started yelling, "Oi! can you wake your boyfiend up! bus teminates here dont'cha know". So i punched Theremin as hard as my indie weakling Kermit arms could - and he slowly came round only to mutter, "Croydon? ....no, no, no I'm not staying in Croydon. why are we in Croydon?". The bus driver was not amused, "get your bloody mate off my bus!", he hollered. So i dragged a protesting Theremin off of the bus where he whinged, "the bus isn't supposed to take us to Croydon". I had to literally drag him to the London Bridge tube sign to make him believe that he was still in London.

I'm pretty sure some of that was made up. But I was so drunk, I have no memory of said events, so I can't say for sure...
(Tue 30th Jun 2009, 10:35, More)