Kids
Either you love 'em or you hate 'em. Or in the case of Fred West - both. Tell us your ankle-biter stories.
( , Thu 17 Apr 2008, 15:10)
Either you love 'em or you hate 'em. Or in the case of Fred West - both. Tell us your ankle-biter stories.
( , Thu 17 Apr 2008, 15:10)
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An evening of culture.....
My sister, bless her little cotton socks, wanted to be a ballerina more than anything else in the world. After much industrial strength pestering from the pursuasive one, a six year old I-M found himself washed, brushed and in his best clothes in row five or six of the theatre watching be-tulle'ed tools flounce about on stage to the warbling wails of the orchestra.
Now I-M and ickle sis of I-M were in a constant state of warfare, as is right and proper with children of that age. As such the United Parents enforced a physical separation policy at pretty much all times. They were on high alert, a clean and well-presented Monkey was a bomb on a hair trigger - opposable toes do not like being in shoes!
So it was with a growing sense of schadenfreude that I watched the expression of horror slowly march across my vociferous sister's face as it dawned on her that ballerinas don't speak, sing or even get to grunt like a woman at wimbledon.
'Why...why don't they say anything?!' her shocked little voice piped - clearly audible over the scratching of the string section.
'Because they've forgotten the words, stupid!' I sneered with all the volume and authority I could muster.
PostScript: Many years later, the Parents hosted a dinner party, to which was invited a musician and his wife. He regaled the gathering with the tale of a disembodied voice, thick with the frustration of minutes wasted, who'd managed to reduce the whole ensemble to giggles in the middle of a performance.
I've never had anyone star-struck to meet me before.
PPS. Apparently it's hard to laugh through a trumpet.
Length - Way, way too fucking long. Have you ever BEEN to the ballet? Jesus, what crap.
( , Fri 18 Apr 2008, 16:11, 3 replies)
My sister, bless her little cotton socks, wanted to be a ballerina more than anything else in the world. After much industrial strength pestering from the pursuasive one, a six year old I-M found himself washed, brushed and in his best clothes in row five or six of the theatre watching be-tulle'ed tools flounce about on stage to the warbling wails of the orchestra.
Now I-M and ickle sis of I-M were in a constant state of warfare, as is right and proper with children of that age. As such the United Parents enforced a physical separation policy at pretty much all times. They were on high alert, a clean and well-presented Monkey was a bomb on a hair trigger - opposable toes do not like being in shoes!
So it was with a growing sense of schadenfreude that I watched the expression of horror slowly march across my vociferous sister's face as it dawned on her that ballerinas don't speak, sing or even get to grunt like a woman at wimbledon.
'Why...why don't they say anything?!' her shocked little voice piped - clearly audible over the scratching of the string section.
'Because they've forgotten the words, stupid!' I sneered with all the volume and authority I could muster.
PostScript: Many years later, the Parents hosted a dinner party, to which was invited a musician and his wife. He regaled the gathering with the tale of a disembodied voice, thick with the frustration of minutes wasted, who'd managed to reduce the whole ensemble to giggles in the middle of a performance.
I've never had anyone star-struck to meet me before.
PPS. Apparently it's hard to laugh through a trumpet.
Length - Way, way too fucking long. Have you ever BEEN to the ballet? Jesus, what crap.
( , Fri 18 Apr 2008, 16:11, 3 replies)
Been to AND been in.
The last time I danced on stage I grande-jeted into a large set piece and grazed the entire back of one arm. Graceful.
( , Fri 18 Apr 2008, 16:32, closed)
The last time I danced on stage I grande-jeted into a large set piece and grazed the entire back of one arm. Graceful.
( , Fri 18 Apr 2008, 16:32, closed)
The great thing about laughing through a trumpet
is that it produces the perfect sound effect to accompany a fat person falling down.
( , Fri 18 Apr 2008, 17:43, closed)
is that it produces the perfect sound effect to accompany a fat person falling down.
( , Fri 18 Apr 2008, 17:43, closed)
Graceful...?
@CW...
in the same way that discovering a (an?) headless corpse in your shoe collection would be relaxing?
I offer you my deepest condolences, but, I have no doubt, from that wellspring of embarrassment flows your erudition, good humour and teh funnehs :-)
( , Sat 19 Apr 2008, 0:26, closed)
@CW...
in the same way that discovering a (an?) headless corpse in your shoe collection would be relaxing?
I offer you my deepest condolences, but, I have no doubt, from that wellspring of embarrassment flows your erudition, good humour and teh funnehs :-)
( , Sat 19 Apr 2008, 0:26, closed)
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