Not me but the boyfriend
Growing up as he did in the wilds of the Yorkshire moors, here was not an awful lot in the way of activities for a young boy, save the exploration of the derelict hotels and other unsupervised investigations. So he took the only vourse of action available to a young boy.

He lit a fire in his bedroom.

He had planned this to an extent- he'd got a bin, and made sure the fire was contained. All fun and good, fire goes big, fire goes down, metal bin is removed from centre of the carpet.

Bollocks.

Fire in metal bin on carpet= very fucked bit of carpet.

The next logical step was of course to cut out the kidney shaped burn from the carpet, move the bed, and recut the shape. Then new piece of carpet is removed, bed pushed back, and carpet placed in the hole in the centre of his bedroom.

Which would have been fine, if he'd taken into account that the carpet had stripes. Which ran the other way.

So he did what any small boy who is terrified of his mother would do.

He moved the wardrobe, and re recut the peice of carpet, and put it down in the middle of the room. Then covered it with a rug for good measure.

Apparently it was a good few years before he was found out.
( Madam Marlboro wonders if you've found her yet, Thu 24 Jul 2008, 12:35, Reply)