It was the morning of my 8/9/10th birthday (approx).
Id been very very well behaved that year and I was looking forward to receiving my shiny new bicycle. My old one was too small and used to be pink before I painted it blue. I had been dreaming for months of a bright red BMX frame with shiny steel skyway wheels, whitewalled tyres, salle royale seat and stunt nuts of pure titanium. However I knew something was amis when I awoke that fateful day only to run downstairs and find....
Nothing. No Bike. No Birthday Present. So i asked my mum with a tear in my eye "Wheres my birthday prezzie mummy?" and to my delight she replied "Your dad has gone to get it!". Wringing my hands with glee I awaited my fathers return. For about 3 hours. When he finally came back I was presented with the most PATHETIC bike i had ever seen. It was a granny spec fold-away, fanny-barred, dirty-brown peice of shit, even my young formative mind could completely fathom what happened. I let him know just what i thought. I shouted at him at the top of my voice "THATS A PAKI BIKE!". Years later, upon being grilled on the subject, he confessed that he gambled my birthday present budget in the hope of getting enough together to get me a decent bike. Instead lost the lot and had to go to my grandfathers oldfolks home and 'borrow' a bike from there.
( P3L3 is not my real name., Tue 1 Jul 2008, 3:17, 2 replies)

wow that's harsh..
especially as it happened (approx) 3 years running.
(misskitty reeks of sex and turpentine; laudanum afternoons, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 4:58, closed)

Are you sure
the moral of your story wasn't that you were incredibly disappointed by your habit of shouting out racist insults? Or an inability to insert paragraph breaks?
(Bazongaloid, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 7:48, closed)