» My Worst Date

Keep it in the family.
Asked a cute girl out, Natalie, when I was 16 and she invited me to a dinner party at her place whilst her parents were out for the evening.

Went round, felt distinctly uncomfortable in front of her sloany mates, and thought it best to drink myself sociable with Pernod and Blackcurrant.

Proceeded to get absolutely shit-faced and, at some point in the late evening when I suddenly got the urge to call God, ran upstairs to her bathroom, sprayed purple vomit absolutely everywhere and collapsed in a heap.

I was just at the point of blacking out in the bathroom when the soothing sound of my girlfriend-to-be starts speaking to me and her gentle, tender hands help me from the floor. I'm in such a state I can't open my eyes. The same hands steady me up the stairs and into the spare room, and then help me get undressed. "Last chance, man," I think so without stopping to focus, turn round and ram my tongue down her throat for a good 10 seconds or so. We break off and I begin to drunkenly suggest we have a play together on the bed. The girl says it's not a good idea but I won't take no for an answer. I squeeze her arse for a bit and have my hand patiently removed. I go for her norks and get in a bit of a squidge before my hands are patiently removed. I give up at this point when I realise that I'm literally seconds away from blacking out, so I lie back and decide to let it take me.

The last thing I see as my eyeballs focus for the last time and my lids begin to droop... is Natalie's gorgeous Mum turning out the lights.

The next day I was greeted with an amazing hangover, a scouring pad and some Jif for the toilet I had to clean, cheeky smiles from her Mum, dagger style glares from her daughter and looks of total pity from the boy she'd spent the night getting off with whilst I was puking. The one-way ticket to singledom was welcomed at this point.
(Mon 25th Oct 2004, 15:06, More)

» My Worst Date

Trumpet
Actually, now that I remember... not quite worst date, but definitely one of worst 'morning afters'.

Went out, got on well, got drunk, back to my place, sweet love making until the early hours, best night's sleep I'd had in ages lying in her arms.

Next morning she has to get up early to go to lectures so she's up and getting dressed whilst I'm still asleep. I'm lying on my side with my bare arse hanging out of the bed when nature decides I have to pass wind.

And what a passing it was. Must have been the way I was lying. The fart went off like a gunshot, woke me up instantly and I leaped up onto one elbow, turned around to her and said "What?"

Oh how we laughed... about 5 years later by long-distance phone call.
(Mon 25th Oct 2004, 16:08, More)

» Helicopter Parents

Rubbers
When I was around 16 or so my Mum would come home every Wednesday having done the weekly shop and often she'd start unloading bags of groceries whilst I was sat there watching Star Trek getting annoyed with all the rustling.

This went on for months. Each time she'd start unloading one particular carrier bag and nonchalently reach in, rummage around and then casually toss a pack of condoms onto my lap as though it was bag of Monster Munch. I'd be sat there frozen stiff staring at them in near horror.

"I don't really want to know whether or not you're using them, but at least I've done my good parenting bit."

And she'd just carry on unpacking the groceries. Wasn't all bad, though. Decades later and I still can't look at Deanna Troy without getting the urge to have a posh wank.
(Thu 10th Sep 2009, 22:04, More)

» The Police

Mirror, Signal, Maneuver
Some years ago, just across Selsdon traffic lights outside Croydon High school for Girls. On my way to the pub for a quick lunchtime pint with a mate and we're in my car stuck behind some amazingly slow bus. I grow increasing impatient, then angry, and after a few moments hesitation just think "sod it". I pull out into the middle of the street and accelerate past the slow moving bus at break-neck velocity and go roaring up the hill.

Seconds later this cop car comes screaming up behind me with all lights blazing and sirens on full volume. My heart sinks as I realise the coppers are not wanting to pass me, but are in fact pulling me over. I'm asked to step out of the vehicle and am asked if I know why I've been stopped. I think about this for a few moments and mention that I might have broken the speed limit.

"I'll tell you what you've done," says the Copper. "You didn't indicate before you pulled out. You crossed the chevrons in the middle of the street. You broke the speed limit. You overtook the bus going through a pelican crossing... outside a school... at lunchtime. But do you know what the worst thing is?"

I'm visibly shaking at this point. I tell him I don't.

"You didn't check your rear-view mirror before you pulled out, cos if you had, you would have seen we were right behind you."

Apparently I'd just achieved 13 points worth of driving offenses in 10 seconds. I swear the only thing that got me off with a warning was the fact I was clearly shitting myself in front of him and could hardly stop my teeth chattering.

G
(Thu 22nd Sep 2005, 14:32, More)

» The Police

Outgunned
So I'm on my way home after a few jars down the pub, hacking it along a stretch of road notorious for speeding. I'm doing about 50 in a 30 zone, and realise with horror that I've just sped past a very small, well hidden side-street that seemed to contain something that looked very similar to a police car with its doors open. I slam the brakes on and stare intensely at my rear-view mirror to see if the car pulls out. After 15 seconds or so, I see the police car pull out.

Not wanting to take any chances, I took the fastest left off the main road I could find and began zig-zagging through an absolulte maze of a residential area. I literally trundle around for as long as I can before working my way back to the main road, a good 2 miles further on from the point I turned off. I approach the main road and stop at the mini-roundabout to let a car go past that looked exactly like a police car... the very police car I'd just performed evasive maneuvers to avoid.

Imagine how I feel, trailing behind the very coppers I'd tried to avoid as they deliberately drive at 25mph. Sure enough, they pull over and I have no choice but to carry on past. They pull out behind me, lights on, and I'm pulled over.

I get the usual questions. Do I know what speed I was doing? Do I know that was a 30 zone? Where am I headed etc etc. Finally they ask me why I pulled off the main road only to rejoin it 2 miles later. I figured a bit of humour might go down well at this point so I say "basically because I knew you'd seen me speeding and didn't want to get involved in a high-speed car chase with helicopters, sirens and flashing lights".

The copper looks at me for a moment, takes a step back and gives my car a once over. He then points to his own car.

"You see that? That's a modified Volvo S70 T5 2.3 litre turbo. Son, you would have lost."

I was let off with a warning but deep down I knew the rusty 1.1 litre Fiesta I was driving at the time could have had him.

G
(Thu 22nd Sep 2005, 15:05, More)