I was a dot com wanker - as in truly deeply - Own flat on wall street NY *overlooking* JP Morgan. (I thence became a secondary school teacher to assuage my guilt and pay for my sins over seven biblical years of pain outside of croydon). All that millenium stuff - Goldman sachs going mental, investors running up at seed partys going "I dont care about the business, I have 35 mill just build the fucking site we'll IPO in 3 months".
Anyway I was a keen sailor. I'd blagged a ride on a competitive boat running day races in Long Island Sound ( a big watery bit north of NY) and after a few months my name got round. I'd just hauled a massive deal in on Friday pm after having cheekilly squired my gf (now lovely wife with 2 brilliant boys) at lunchtime when I got a ring. Barely aware of what I was signing up for, I was told to show up at Pier 66 to crew a fast well practiced boat in a race. Drunk with success I agreed (as any blagger would) and I ended up on a boat with half the USA olympic yachting team with a reputation that far outstripped my actual ability. I was a thumbless ape in comparison. However...We sailed hard, we sailed well and just for the fun of it, having won by several tens of minutes we decided to cross *back over* the finishing line to toast the others as they drifted over the line. Needless to say, the sun was positioned directly behind the Statue of Liberty (having just raced around its base) with a brisk force 4 at 38 degrees sunny heat and we mooned the fucking lot of them. I could have died happy there.
(National Squid Never knowingly underfondled, Sun 31 Jul 2011, 0:41, 1 reply)

Hows the Honda Accord, and supermodel girlfriend?
( Duke Of Belmsford has got 99 records, but Jay-Z ain't one, Mon 1 Aug 2011, 6:06, closed)