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.
We suddenly weren’t invisible! Psycho was staring straight at us as if the hedge wasn’t there!
“COME HERE YOU LITTLE CUNTS!!!”
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:
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.