» Have you ever paid for sex?

A friend gave me a lift home a few months back...
and we dropped another friend off at town. If any of you have wondered down Sweet Street in Leeds at 11pm on any evening, you will know what it is like.

I needed to get some money out of an ATM because I owed him a tenner. We went to a cash machine near Sweet Street:

These 2 prostitutes came towards me asked if I was requiring any assistance. I wasn't. I took out my money and turned back to get in the car. My friend had driven down the road just in view to be laughing his arse off at me. I was scared! I didn't want to be left alone with these two middle aged women. I just said "no thanks", and walked off.

Then, the most terrifying thinkg I have seen for ages happened. I looked around and there must have been about ten thousand twelve prostitutes, all walking up and down. Their dark, smacked up eyes and wrinkled skin would have been more fitting in a coffin than out on the streets.

It was like something out of Dawn of the Dead. They all, slowly started making their way towards my friends car. He shouted at me "Get in the car!". One of the hookers thought he was talking to her, and opened the door. "Not you, yer filthy whore!"

My whole life flashed before my eyes: Walking my first step, saying my first word, failing my first exam, losing my virginity, right up to getting propositioned by a Liz McDonald lookalike.

Then everything went in slow motion. My friend drove off, and I was almost in tears! What if one of them pulled a needle on me? What if they tried to rub their chlamydia infested vaginas into my youthful, spritely eyes?

Eventually I managed to escape them, weaving in and out of their ferociously skinny bodies. I dived head first into my friends car through the window, as he drove off with my legs still dangling out. (Okay, so that last bit didn't happen.)

But I lived to tell another tale. I survived the manic 10 minutes that could have ended up with me contracting the clap. Alas, no! We escaped into the sunset and retired to our life of youthful innocence.

Plus, I only had a tenner, and they wanted fourty!
(Sun 22nd Jan 2006, 0:35, More)

» Urban Legends

The Mars Bar Guy
When I was a young lad of 14, I had my first proper girlfriend. Some of my mates were impressed because she was in the year above me, but because her birthday was (and I suppose still is) in September, she was 16.

One day she had the house to herself for the weekend and I told my parents that I was staying at a friend's house. Now, we'd already commenced in the act of (to quote Stusut) "Jimmynudging" a few weeks previously so that was nothing new. What you have to bear in mind is that that the GF had a mind of filth. Pure filth. And I loved it.

So, we are engaging in sexual acts, and for no apparent reason, there was a chocolate bar at her bedsides. I think it would be a laugh to shove it up her.

Now, that's not a great story. It isn't really a great thing to do. And it made a chocolaty caramel mess. But what happened next was amazing.

She had decided to tell one of my friends about it via MSN Messenger. This soon turned to her telling all my friends about it. The story spread through my school faster than the flu. Everyone in my year knew about it.

"Do you know that Wonderbrawl?"
"No. Never heard of him."
"You know, the Mars Bar Guy"
"Oh yeah he's a ugly twat sexy bloke"

People who I had never seen before were coming up to me and asking about it. I was famous throughout the kingdom...or at least in my year group at school. I guess I kind of enjoyed the attention and liked the fact that lots of people knew who I was.

A few months later when I had a new girlfriend who also didn't go to my school, she told me a story.

"Apparently there's this bloke at your school who poked a girl with a Mars Bar"

I couldn't escape it. What made it even worse was when Mars Bars changed their slogan to Pleasure You Can't Measure. A day didn't go past where it wasn't mentioned at school. I was beginning to tire of it.

I left school at the end of year 11 and moved to another to do my A-levels. And bear in mind, that this is a good 20 months after the incident happened. One person knew that I did the Mars Bar thing, and everyone in the sixth form had already heard the story- They were amazed when they saw me in the flesh. People came up and started talking to me about it, which I guess broke the ice and quickly found lots of people to talk to. One set of girls even bought me a Mars Bar and left it in my bag-box as a joke. How I cringed as I set my eyes upon it.

Even now I am reminded of it. Four years after what is now known as "the Mars Bar incident" People still ask me about it, and now I am not as embarassed to tell the story.

That is how I was the urban legend. Apparently people still talk about it nowadays in my old school. "There was once a bloke who put a Mars Bar up......" I'm sure each time the tale is retold, it is given a new exaggeration or a new angle.

Now, I live in the aftermath of fame. I have had my fifteen minutes and the baton has been passed on. All I say is this: If ever you get the urge to shove a confectionary up your bird's love tunnel, then don't choose something with a tagline like Pleasure You Can't Measure

Apologies for Length - at least it wasn't a Funsize Mars Bar

/Edit: I went out on Thursday (same night that I posted this answer) night in Revolution, Leeds and this bloke comes up to me: "Hey You're the guy who did the mars bar thing? My friend showed me a picture of you and explained the story"

It still haunts me!
(Thu 5th Jan 2006, 20:08, More)

» Shame

Oh God, another one that springs to mind....
When I was at a party I was speaking to a friend from college called Kate. She had obviously had a bit to drink as she was slurring and giggling at everything.

"If you drink any more you won't be able to walk!" I said.

Kate is in a wheelchair.
(Sun 27th Nov 2005, 0:16, More)

» My Greatest Regrets

Also
I regret leaving "What I'm listening to" on on MSN Messenger, installing the Winamp plugin and then watching lesbian porn movies.
(Fri 6th Oct 2006, 18:06, More)

» Join us... come join the cult

When I was in year 8 I started my own cult. It had 2 members.
My friend Jon and I started a cult, just for ourselves. Nothing serious. Just a laugh.

It was called the "Inkadinkadoo"

During registration time at tutor classes, our mission would be to obtain the highest stools to sit on (we were based in an art class) and sit around the table and pick on the kids near us whilst sat on the high chairs of inkadinkadoo.

We would then proceed to pick on people sat near us:

"Do we have any minutes for the commitee meeting of inkadinkadoo?"

"Yes. Jake has shit hair, and Joe's mum is a filthy whore"

"And that concludes our meeting of inkadinkadoo. The inkadinkadoos have spoken"

Also, when you went through the corridors, you could only walk through "push" doors. If you came accross a "pull" door, you would have to wait until somebody else walked through it, then try to squeeze through without touching the door or the door frame.

Oh yeah, and when Mrs Cliff's *thunder* name was spoken of, you had to make a thunder noise in order to indicate that she was in fact a 143 year old witch who was cast into this life to surpress the followers of inkadinkado. She was known as an inkadinkadon't.

Ooooh and on the 13th of any month, we would be able to say her name without apocolyptic consequences unless it was a Friday 13th, when her wrath would be felt thirteen times as much.

So I beg you, join me in the inkadinkadoo ways and we shall forever banish the inkadinkadon'ts!
(Fri 27th Jan 2006, 2:49, More)