» It's Not What It Looks Like!

That's not a knife.
In my first year of university, I lived in a student village, which was pretty cool. What wasn't cool was the me vs. All mate at once play fights that happened most days. Now it was all in good fun, I gave as good as I got, but the bruises were adding up. I picked up a giant metal spoon from the kitchen which served as a weapon. I took to wearing this in my belt, like a sword when I was in the flat with my mates.

I was walking to a friends flat, I passed a couple walking out the building. I smiled said hi andheld the door open for them. The girl looked shocked and afraid. I heard her say to the guy "My god! Did you see the massive knife that guy was carrying?!" to which the guy replied. "That wasn't a knife, it was a spoon.". Before I could even think, I heard my self say in a comedy Australian accent "I see you've played knifey spoony before!"

The guy came back to high 5 me.
(Sat 11th Dec 2010, 15:13, More)

» Drunk Parents

That's CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow
My dad once drank alot of wine and cried because he coulden't remember the name of the pirate in pirates of the carabian.

I have never seen him cry on any outher occasion in my 24 years of knowing him.
(Thu 24th Feb 2011, 19:35, More)

» Little Victories

Alpha male and all that
A few years ago, I was out in newcastle with some friends. After a few to many drinks and no luck with the ladies, we decided it was time for a kebab.

It turned out alot of people fancied mechanically recaptured lamb meat pound into a cylinder then cooked under a heat lamp and shaved. A queue had formed, so being a polite kind of guy, I waited. By the time I got to the front, I'd been volunteered to buy a few peoples food while they got us a seat. All was well untill in walks a fellow who decided he was better then the rest of us and got to go first in the queue.

Resplendent in his finery (shitty tracksuit bottoms and umbro jumper) he barged in, pushing and shoving until he was at the counter. There was a little timib looking woman beside me, she looked frightened and upset at having been barged aside. King of the queue turned and looked at me, laughed at me and said "Get a shave mate!" (I have a small beard and moutach combo similar to Jonny Depp).

Sighing, I looked forward, thinking "Do you want to try talking to me like that again?" only I didn't think it, I said it.
"You what mate?" he asks looking supprised.
"Do you want to fucking try talking to me like that again?" I asked in a calm, surprisingly sober sounding voice. I'm not a tough guy, not a fighter, 6' tall average build and fairly camp, yet I struck fear into his polyester clad heart. "Eh, nah, your allright mate." he said before scampering off without and food.

All eyes were on me suddenly, the timid woman smiled her thanks, kebab man nodded his gratitude, I stood and slowly unclenched every muscle in my body, I couldent belive I'd gotten away with acting like the big man, in a fight, I'd have been very good at catching punches with my face, and little else, yet there I stood, like batman of the cheap take away, thugs and villains tremble at my very name, the good people sat safe and unintimidated to enjoy thier meals.

Justice 1-0 Injustice
(Tue 15th Feb 2011, 8:49, More)

» Going Too Far

Sorry cows
About 3years ago, I was visiting my cousins who live in a rural area. I’d been looking for something to get them, as was our custom. My gift found the form of a water bomb catapult. I had a glance at the description, saying it needs 3 people to fire (perfect, there were 4 of us, but one was on crutches after knee surgery) very powerful and for over 18s only. I pay my £20 and a few days later it arrives.

I should have known from the sheet of warnings/legal disclaimers that I had something I shouldn’t. I should have known to follow the advice, maybe it said don’t fire at people animals or property for a reason. But being 17 and with equally immature boys of the same age we proceeded to get a few practice shots in before we take to finding targets.

But what to shoot? Why I saw a herd of cows and thought “I see no moral problem with shooting cows.” Now, we may be immature but we weren’t daft. Realising the farmer may have objections to use firing on his cows, we came back just after midnight and crept into the darkened field. We moved silently like marines on a recon mission, catapult over my shoulder, to my side was one of my cousins with a bucket of water bombs and water to cushion their journey. A few feet ahead was my eldest cousin, finding our rout.

At this point I feel compelled to mention that the catapult could throw a water bomb the size of a large orange for well over 200 meters, or if fired vertically, could send it aloft for 5-7 seconds.

We found our targets and got into position, taking it in turns to fire on the cows. How we laughed as the water bombs thudded on their sides, how we shrieked with glee at head shots. How we laughed when the calf caught one in the side. We hit 10 cows all in all, from close range, before deciding enough was enough and returning home to tell tales of our adventures to our fathers. The sad part is that’s the proudest my Dad has ever looked of me.

The next day while sitting around a table talking of the previous nights adventure my uncle returned from his walk looking troubled.

“The cows have been moved from that field boys.”

Nine words that made my balls go back in a little way.

Being men of science, we deduced that some mark must have been left, and decided to set about testing the catapults strength. Using a piece of chip board as a shield, my cousin agreed to test the strength of a water bomb fired from a similar distance to we were to the cows, pulled back the same amount and of course, the water bomb was the same sort of size.

“FIRE!”

It took a second to realise what had happened, why was Nick clutching his ribs and shouting? Why wasn’t the chip board wet? Then we noticed the hole. We had blown a hole into a piece of chip board, to thick to stamp in half with a water bomb. It had carried on with enough force to bruise my cousin’s ribs.
That force had hit cows in the side, arse and face. Even a little calf had been hit in the attack.

I still laugh about it to this day, but I also feel slight shame, the type I’d imagine you’d feel after beating some one up who didn’t really deserve it.

That’s when I went too far.
(Fri 10th Nov 2006, 16:13, More)

» Absolute Power

The power of words
A while ago, I worked for the swine flu call center. Calls where pretty boring, usualy some one who's sick, or worried about a kid or elderly relative, so not always the most cheery bunch.

Then I get a call from a guy about his son who has susspected swine flu, he's very polite, funny, upbeat and dosent panic when I say his son may have swine flu. Really nice to talk to him, makes a pretty depressing job for a university graduate a bit easier to manage.

Then, he has one last question, he's just been diagnosed with stomach cancer, will he be at risk. The words hit me like a hammer blow. He'd been so upbeat, so cheerful, yet he was dealing with cancer.

Relavence? No matter how absolute your power seems, no matter how Much influence you wield, your life could come crashing down around you after a quick check up at the doctors. Taking that diagnosis and refusing to give in, refusing to let it destroy you, that's the only power worth having.
(Tue 13th Jul 2010, 16:20, More)