Promises, Promises
I promised my ex-flatmate not to laugh at his terrible, world-shattering news.

Now about my ex-flatmate, let's call him Tom.
Tom is a nice enough guy: home educated until GCSEs, did well, then went to a proper sixth form, where he discovered girls, booze, drugs and the sexually lubricating effects of playing the guitar well.
So needless to say he did pathetically in his A-Levels, dropped out, became a musician and developed the sexual morals of an unspayed alleycat.

Some years later, we got back in touch. We both lived in Sheffield and were both paying too much for our respective tiny rooms, so we pooled our resources and got a nice house together and the good times rolled.
Tom was a great bloke to go out on the piss with, a constant source of high-quality herbiage and a purveyor of women so loose they only wore panties to keep their ankles warm. Happy times.

Tom's downfall came in the form a particularly loose, and particularly stupid woman named, ooh, let's say Amanda.
Amanda was extraordinarily slutty, deeply in love with Tom, and so stupid that the only knife in the draw less sharp was actually a spatula.

Example: Amanda is in our front room and is cold. We're all pretty sloshed, so I point to the thermostat control and say: The Thermostat's there, turn it up if you want to.
Amanda: ...
Me: Just there, see?
Amanda: ...
Me: Is there a problem?
Amanda:...What's a thermostat?

Fast forward several months. Tom and Amanda have broken it off. Tom has a new girlfriend. He gets a call from Amanda.
She's pregnant.
It's his.

He tells me and is obviously distraught. I'm supportive, for a while, but I have the devil in me. A week or so later, Tom is wondering around the house like a lost soul, and decides to turn the heating up.

I creep up behind him as he approaches the control, crouch down and say, in a high, childish voice:

"What's a thermostat, daddy?"

I'm going to hell, for that, if nothing else.
(universalpsykopath loves what you've done with your hair., Tue 7 Dec 2010, 12:37, 1 reply)

You Utter Bastard...
...have a click.
(DownhillGardener no-one does it like that anymore, Wed 8 Dec 2010, 19:49, closed)