» Twattery

I once got dumped
by a girl because she 'didn't love me like they do in Disney'.

Bullet dodged.
(Fri 13th Apr 2012, 8:39, More)

» Filth!

Student summer job from Hell
As with most impoverished students, I had to work through the summer in a variety of shitty jobs in order to fund my alcohol and pizza Uni related antics. The worst job I has was when I was a contract cleaner. It had some highs (working for Williams F1 and getting to watch them build full-size replica cars was wicked) but it also had many, many lows...

I was sent to work for one day at what can only be described as a chicken concentration camp. Upon arrival, they made me strip, and then dressed me in an all-enclosed white paper suit so that I looked like a cross between a bleached Teletubby and a giant baby (who's bollocks you could see through the suit) They then walked me around the factory for all the people on the lines to take the piss. After this ritual humiliation, they put me in a room that could only have been designed to extract confessions from poultry, told me to clean it and then they left me.

Fuck me, I am gipping just thinking about this. It was the height of summer and the smell was horrendous, and the carnage that I saw inside this 'Hell Room' sent my imagination into overdrive. I found one machine that was the chicken equivalent of a rack. Another was of a 'spinny' design that I can only assume made the chickens dizzy. Fuck knows why they needed this machinery, or dizzy chickens for that matter, but I figured I just needed to get the place clean, and then I could bugger off home and never think about it again.

I grabbed a broom and started sweeping up the feathers hidden under the units, and I felt something come into contact with the bristles but it wouldn't shift. I got onto my knees, to see what it was but it was too dark under there. So I got a dustpan and brush, and reached back under using the brush to get better leverage, I pulled hard... And a complete, rotting chicken's head flew out from under the unit and smashed wetly into my face! The bastard thing had an agonised, tortured expression upon its once benign feathered features, and one eye was missing. I screamed like a girl. And then shat my paper onesy.
(Thu 2nd Feb 2012, 16:10, More)

» Churches, temples and holy places

Too late...
When I was a wee nipper, my family made futile efforts to be religious around Christmas time. Foolish behaviour in hindsight. So off we'd trot to the church for Mass on Xmas eve. Being around 5 years old, I found the idea of sitting on cold, hard benches in the middle of the night as a little unnecessary, especially when Santa was due to drop by any second, so my Mum bribed me with lots and lots of sweets which I yummed up.

After what felt like an eternity of droning by the vicar, the service finally finished and there was a general stampede for the exit. It was at this point that I, following 3 packets of wine gums hoovered down in quick succession, proudly declared to my parents that I was going to be sick. I had turned a funny shade of green to back up this exclamation, and I prepared to blow... (fnaar!)

Dad immediately hoisted me onto his shoulders and did his best to push and shove through the congregation of God botherers amassing at the exit with limited success. All he succeeded in doing was getting me right into the middle of the group where I passed the point of no return.

VOMCANO!!!

I projectiled over at least 20 people from my elevated perch. Multicoloured, half-digested chews scattered in a wide arc, accompanied by what can only be described as a wave of pink milk. It was like a camp version of the Exorcist.

I wasn't invited back. Forgive thy neighbour my arse.
(Fri 2nd Sep 2011, 10:28, More)

» Meeting people from the internet

Sarah Beeny - Property Developer, Media Whore, Dating Guru...
I once tried Beeny's website where your mates 'sell' you to prospective birds/blokes by writing a paragraph or two highlighting your best features. My mates James wrote a bit of blurb, with the best line being - 'Mr Fudge's best body part is his nipples'.

Now I don't know what is wrong with you ladies, but I was literally inundated with err.. some emails asking for photos of my chest bulls-eyes. I mean you all have tits that you can look at in the mirror, lube up and play with, and yet you want to see my hairy moobs? It's just weird. Anyway, one message in particular leaps to mind...

From a 47yr old, HUUUGE divorced single mum of three from Stockport (I am 31 and live in London).

It simply read, 'We have something in common. My best features are my nips too. Though you won't get to see them when we meet up. Unless you buy me dinner first. ;-)

I'm seeing her this weekend. As far as I'm concerned, any hole's a goal, even though after three kids, it'll be like throwing a sausage down a corridor. Wish me luck!
(Thu 20th Oct 2011, 17:01, More)

» Tactless

I went skiing in Italy when I was 18...
With a large group of my friends, their relatives and a few strangers. All in all, there were about 25 of us. My mate Chris' mum had invited a number of her gay friends along (4 blokes who were all a camp as a row of tents) but they were good fun, fit into the group well, and we all got on fine.

A few of us had a snowball fight during a massive dump (arf!) of snow at the top of the gondola. Steve threw a snowball at his partner Andy with the kind of stereotypical, limp-wristed effort that tarnishes the reputation of gay men, which amused me greatly. I immediately bellowed from afar, 'Steve! You throw like a POOF!'

*cue tumbleweed. A church bell tolls once in the distance*

He then turns slowly, looks at me like I'm a complete idiot and proudly exclaims 'I am a poof'. 'Oh yeah!' I mumble like a mug.

This is the same holiday where I told a friend's mum and dad that I thought their daughter had a banging set of tits, 5 minutes after meeting them for the first time.

I really should think before I speak...
(Fri 4th Nov 2011, 11:50, More)