» Being told off as an adult

Hang my head in shame
You Americans are mostly a fine bunch, but don't always seem to get our dry British sense of humour.

I was on a business trip to Portland, Oregon of all places, and was sat in a large room full of mostly women, but a few guys too. There was the normal sort of muted nervous chit chat between people who do not know each other, and it became clear that as the only Brit, I was going to have to do something.

Now the bosses had decreed that we share our hotel rooms, so I had been allocated some useless roomate who I had mostly ignored.

So I turned to one of the guys next to me and in hushed tones, but loud enough for everyone to hear, said: "I'm not sure, but I think my roomate is gay." to which the reply was "How do you know?"

"Well his cock tastes of shit.."


Dropped pins.... you could hear it all.

The sharp intakes of breathe, the looks I got, made it patently clear to me that not a single one of them had seen the funny side of it. Least of all my roomate of course.

After everyone had filtered out of the room, looking down at me as I was asked to stay behind, I was told off for "not respecting people's feelings" or some such bollocks and for being insensitive.

Still makes me giggle at the complete and utter horror on the faces of some of those women.

Hey Ho.
(Tue 25th Sep 2007, 9:13, More)

» Best Graffiti Ever

Pure poetry
"Sittin here, I did spy,
A little pest: a buzzing fly.
When there was only a yard between us,
I hit the fucker, with my penis."

Made oi larf.
(Fri 4th May 2007, 8:50, More)

» Best Graffiti Ever

On bog wall
In bright blue marker:

MOTHERF

After that in black:

ATHER?
(Fri 4th May 2007, 7:08, More)

» * PFFT *

Cleared an entire disco
Not me of course, but a mate of mine managed exactly that.

4 of us "on tour", 3 days of nothing but curry and lager meant that all manner of vileness was emanating from him. So on the final Sunday night in a disco in Birmingham somewhere, the place is packed, 4 of us are all dancing away, when suddenly a space opens up in the centre of the dance floor. It expanded faster and faster, peopel falling over themselves to get the hell out of th eplace, until the DJ over the tannoy system yelled for everyone to clear out, and would the fucker, currently standing in the middle all on his own, shoulders shaking uncontrollably with laughter, face screwed up like a squinty Chinese person, kindly report to security.

Seeing as he was so pissed, he failed to acknowledge the instructions and the (reluctant) security guards heaved him out of the place. Took a good 15 minutes for the air to return to survivorable levels.

The looks of unamused disgust will stay with me for quite some time, as will the drunken, indifferent amusement of my pal.

Not sure the party was ever the same that night at least.

Ahh sweet memories.

Also, as a student, me and my mates made a fart tape. Every time anyone had one to go, we recorded it on a tape. Try playing back 35 minutes of non stop farts with accompanying laughs, groans and comments without laughing and you are more of a man than I.
(Tue 17th Jul 2007, 8:54, More)

» Thrown away: The stuff you loved and lost.

Not so much thrown away as left behind - a happy tale
This might go on a bit, but bare/bear (which one is it? I never know) with me.

The scene: end of my college career. Summer in the UK and loads of parties to go to as everyone is throwing a "fare-thee-well" themed alcoholic bash of some sort.

There are 3 of us. Your Humble Narrator, Steve, and Matt. Steve, being filthy rich and not much one for sleeping on floors, offers to pay for a hotel room near to one of the aforementioend alcoholic bash sites if Matt will drive us there in his 2CV (remember them?! Comedy car if ever there was one). We agree.

So as the evening/morning draws to an end, we enter the hotel. We are drunk. And quite likley stoned a wee bit.

Poor youthful spotty young fella on the night shift is there to greet us and give us our room key. Steve, dressed in his best "I'm the don of a very nasty criminal organisation" coat, and his 2 bruiser security goons (that'd be me and Matt) takes the key and then tells the youth to go ahead and open the door for us. We are all giggling as this guy thinks that there might be some sort of hitman waiting. Steve then decides that we need a "bigger and more different" room. The booze and drugs talking I think.

So we get a suite. Sweet!

The other two plonk down on the beds and Steve starts to roll a fat one. I do my normal thing which is to open each and every drawer in the room looking for I'm not too sure what - in case anyone has left behind money or valuables or something. Habit of a lifetime in hotel rooms that I still do and dunno why.

Instead, from one of the drawers, I picked out this eNORmous block of hash. About the size of 2 golf balls put together.

"Err Steve?..... is this yours?" I asked.
"....christ... no.... where did you get THAT from?....."

The rest of the day is a bit of a blur to be honest, but that remains to this day the best hotel I ever stayed in, and I would thoroughly recommend The Drug Suite if I could only recall where the bloody hotel is now. I can only remember Essex, and I'm not even sure about that.

Bugger.

Hey Ho.
(Fri 15th Aug 2008, 8:37, More)