Egging The Local Psychopath

When my brother and I were younger, we got up to all kinds of malarkey. We were generally little arsonist, trouble-making, mischievous shits.

Oh yes, we had fun!

I shall try to remember some of the things we’ve done, and some classic fights, and recount them on here. This story still makes us howl with laughter today! I think I’ve posted it before, but can’t be arsed to dig it out of the archives, so will re-write it:

Egging The Local Psychopath

One of the things we started doing was egging people.

It’s much funnier if they can’t see who’s done it, so we had A Plan. Bear in mind I was about 8 and him 10, so we could have planned it all better.

It was late on a warm Summers night, just after dark, when we grabbed a few eggs each from the kitchen.

We went out into the front garden, eyes ablaze and giggling in anticipation of what was to come. We took up positions behind the hedge at the top of the garden, and waited. In hindsight, it would probably have been much wiser not to have done this from our own damn garden, but at that age, you’re immortal, and don’t even think about the possibility you may get in Trouble… or even get caught!

There’s a service road on the other side of the hedge, then a steep grass bank that leads up to the path that runs along the main road, with a graveyard across the other side.

Yes, from the age of 5, I have lived and slept about 30 feet away from dead bodies. Before that I was just down the road in a haunted cottage. It was guaranteed that I’d turn into the sick little monkey that I am today! Anyway…

A few unknown people walked past on the upper pathway, and we lobbed eggs over, mortar-style, but our targeting wasn’t quite tuned in, and they missed the targets so badly I don’t think they even knew how close they’d come to an egging.

We were still pissing ourselves, biting our tongues to stay quiet with tears rolling down our faces, when a local alky woman walked past.

We let rip and ducked back down, and heard her footsteps stop.

Our hearts stopped, and we tried to see through the hedge as she looked around wildly, shouting out: “OI!!! I know who did that! I’ll tell your Dad!!! Who did that?!”

This was even better! We were Invisible Egg Assassins! The Water Margin and Monkey had nothing on us!

Then someone else was approaching.

We dived back to our positions, eggs at the ready. As he got closer, we recognised the long black coat, boots and Evil Cloud that could only belong to The Local Village Psychopath.

My brother lowered his egg, then looked at me. I kept mine raised. His look turned to horror, as he started to furiously shake his head at me, obviously still seeing that gleam in my eye.

I waited until he got level with us, and hoofed the egg up and over…

Everything went still and quiet, save for a small eggshell breaking over something soft.

Oh shiiiiiiiiiiiit……

We suddenly weren’t invisible! Psycho was staring straight at us as if the hedge wasn’t there!

“COME HERE YOU LITTLE CUNTS!!!”

LEG IT!!!!!!!!!!

We moved just about as he started running down the grass bank. It was probably the scariest moment of my life so far! Not only had he just roared a C-Word that I don’t think I’d ever even heard then (‘fock off’ was seen as the pinnacle of swear words), but I will NEVER forget the quick glimpse I had of that coat flapping around him as he fired himself towards us!

Think Russell Crowe’s ‘Hando’ from Romper Stomper:

Hando

I was slightly quicker off the mark than my bro, and Psycho was one fast bugger when killing was on the cards!

I wasn’t even at the bottom of the garden (I was in full-on panic and just trying to get around the back of my house to hide better), when I heard the tiny voice of my brother somewhere behind me:

“It wasn’t me it wasn’t me it wasn’t me!!!”. You’ve never heard such sorrow, despair and fear in all your life!

I felt bad that my brother was now dead, but felt much better once I’d cleared the gate and huddled shivering underneath an old mattress in the outhouse.

After a while, my bro staggered up, pale faced and ill-looking, but not dead.

We never egged anyone after that.

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Panic Buying Petrol

Panic Buying Petrol

The first I knew about this were Facebook statuses reporting huge queues of cars around local petrol stations.

I’m pretty adept now at completely avoiding the news, so had a quick look on the BBC website to find out what current crisis might have triggered this off.  And there isn’t one.

Petrol Tanker drivers were talking about going on strike for more money because their job is dangerous.

Let me just stop there to go off on a tangent:  These drivers are paid £45,000 per year.  And they want more.  I’d be happy to be earning HALF of what they’re getting.  And they want more?  Aww – poor diddums!  You can only afford to buy the one fucking BMW every year, now, can you?  I’ll tell you what – I’LL do their ‘dangerous’ job for £35,000 per year and smile every day!  The Police don’t even get £45,000 per year!!!

So, yes – back on track…

It seems that some twatbag politician had ‘advised’ that people top up their tanks and fill some jerry cans with petrol before they went into talks with the poor hard-done-by truckers.

So the dumb-ass Chavvy masses of course all went down to their local forecourt to fill every orrifice with petrol.

THERE IS NO CRISIS!!!!

And now, thanks to these dickheads, all petrol prices have gone up at least another 10p per litre (don’t even get me started on THAT one) because everyone is falling over themselves to pay it!

I haven’t filled up in a week because I didn’t need to.  This morning I had to wait in a queue at 07:30 because these rubberheads were all out early again, when all I want is enough fuel to get me to work!

STOP BEING PRICKS!!!

All of you.

Cyber Sex – Is It Cheating?

Cyber Sex – Is It Cheating?

I read an article in a newspaper the other day about the publics perception of ‘Cyber Sex’ – that is having ‘sex’ with someone over the internet.

If you haven’t had ‘cyber sex’ you’re probably already scratching your head a bit here about WHAT it actually is.  Basically, it’ll either be pulling your pud on a webcamera in a one way/mutual masturbation session.  Or maybe it’s purely text-based, where you’re both sat there typing with one sweaty hand about what colour pants you have on and and feeding ponies and stuff.

There is the technology to attach various rubbery articles to your genitals that will actually simulate the sexual movements of your cyber lover – but I’m sure it’s crap, expensive, and nobody actually uses it.

Many apparently ‘do’ each other bent over the Cyber Table if they’re in a long distance relationship, or their partner is away for more than 45 minutes.  It’s a way to release the sexual tension between you and express your love and lust even when you’re apart.  Or a convenient way of being a dirty little scutter to discourage your lonesome partner from banging the milk man or a passing prostitute.

So if you’re already in a relationship with a real living person, is having Cyber Sex with someone else cheating?

The figures show that 18% of people have had Cyber Sex.  51% of people say that it IS infidelity.  26% didn’t know/care.  The rest I suspect just went a bit mongy, started dribbling, and the person asking the questions had to walk away.

I’d agree and say that it IS cheating on your partner.  You’re having some form of a sexual relationship with somebody else, and most partners will be pretty offended to find out you’ve done that.

But then…

You’re not actually touching that person, are you?  Sure, in some cases there could be some pesky feeelings building, but what if the cyber sex is just with some random chatroom person?

Putting it into perspective a little more – isn’t it just the same as watching porn?

Maybe the Cyber Sex person will tailor their rub-tugging antics a little to your requests, but then you can also get interactive porn that does pretty much the same thing.  And porn isn’t cheating, right?

So now I’m not actually sure.  I am sure that if my fiancee was having Cyber Sex I’d be pretty damned gutted, and I wouldn’t do it myself – but that’s just my choice.

What are your views on it?

Foxin’ Hell!

Foxin’ Hell!

I saw an article today about a ‘huge freaky monster’ of a fox that has been killed recently by a farmer, as it was savaging his livestock.

Here’s the link: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2110098/Britains-biggest-fox-killed-Alan-Hepworth-Monster-measured-4ft-9in-weighed-38lbs.html

 
Haul: Alan Hepworth holds up the giant fox he shot in Aberdeenshire

It measured 4’9″ from tip to tail, and weighed in at 38lbs!

Just look at the pics in that article!

So, is it only me who read this and thought “That’s about normal size for a fox, isn’t it?”?

All the “we should kill all the foxes” and “bring back fox hunting” thoughts aside (which I agree with), isn’t that just a fully grown fox?

I grew up in a tiny village called Alvechurch, where they still point at passing planes and a 5 minute walk in any direction will put you in the middle of endless fields.  I lived there until a few years ago, and up until that time would often get out and about with the local wildlife (the animals, I mean – not the drunk girls in the bust stop outside the Red Lion).  I’d see foxes lots, living opposite the graveyard, and became pretty skilled at calling foxes to me.

They’re blind as buggery, and if you can imitate the sound of a small dying creature, they will come loping over to you and get within feet before they realise you’re almost 6ft tall and rather pink looking for a rabbit.

I have a very fond memory of walking over fields with my fiancee and seeing a fox across the other side of the field.  I grabbed my fiancee and told her to stand still, then did my magic and started calling the fox.  That sounds like a euphemism.  I mean, I called the fox over and this very fine example of foxlihood came bounding up to us and got very close indeed before legging it off again.

He wasn’t the biggest, but the ones I’d see in the street around the graveyard I’d say were the size of the one in that article.  It’s been a few years since I last saw one of them, so I’m not going to say they were bigger, but as I remember it they probably were a touch bigger.  And notice the ‘THEY’ – because usually there would be around 3 that size.  On one magical night there were 5 of them wondering the roads!

Should I be calling the press?

Are the Alvechurch Foxes some freaky breed?

It hardly worries me, when as you may have read in previous blogs, I believe I’ve had a couple of encounters around there with something much bigger, and possibly cat-like…

Stark contrast: Foxshooter Roy Lupton displays a normal fox beside the 26lb monster shot by Keith Talbot to show the difference in size

Fogging Hell

Fogging Hell

There are too many stupid people in the world.

It may be because I’ve not long ago had training to pass my car test, and I actually LISTENED to the advice they gave that’s meant to keep me and others alive?

This morning I drove to work in thick fog – of course I had my dip beam on but also felt it wise to switch the fog lights on.  Visibility was BAD, and well below 100 metres.  Probably less than 40 metres.

Yet still there were loads of others driving just on side lights, and some without ANY lights at all!

What the Hell is wrong with people???

Is it just because everyone else is so stupid, thick, or plain ignorant of the world around them?

Are they trying to save electricity or light bulbs?

If they are, that’s odd – because you can bet for the next few weeks everyone will be driving around with fog lights on full because they can’t switch them off again!