Tag Archives: trouble

Irate Fat Girl

14 Jun

The football team I play for held an auction which was used to raise money for the team and more importantly, charity. It was a good laugh; a few beers were put away and the food was free, which is always a bonus. One of the highlights for me was when my brother outbid me to pay £22.95 for fifty litres of fruit juice. It was a lot I was happy to lose and although my brother didn’t mind that much, little did he know that he would have a setback of a different kind later on that evening.

After the auction, a group of us decided to head into High Wycombe to see what havoc we could cause over there. It was quite good, nothing special, but we had a laugh, danced like spastics on speed and drank far too much alcohol. By 2am, most of the group had retired for the evening and there were only 3 of us left; my brother, Mark and I.

 We decided to head for the only place that was left open, a dingy nightclub which attracts all manner of reprobates to it. Putting this aside, I wanted a drink, and so I was happy to go along, even if it meant paying a £6 entrance fee (the money grabbing twats). Into the club we strolled and then headed upstairs, straight to the bar. Mark bought a round of beers, and as none of us had much energy left in us, we decided not to strut our stuff on the dance floor. Instead, we stood at the bar and chatted about the night’s events, although I think I did break into doing the robot for a while.

We hadn’t been supping on our beers for long, when an attractive young girl came over to where we were and asked my brother if he fancied a dance. At first he was reluctant, but after we goaded him for a while, he accepted the invitation and joined her on the dance floor. Now, at the time I didn’t really know why what followed happened, I had to wait for my brother to tell me. It was certainly funny to witness.

After they had been dancing for a few minutes, the girl turned to him and whispered in his ear.

“Make me jealous”, she said through hushed tones.

“What?”

“Make me jealous. Dance with another girl for a bit.”

 My brother was confused to say the least, but he didn’t really have much choice because no sooner had she made her demand, his dancing partner had turned to face another random bloke and was gyrating in front of him, all the while looking over her shoulder, winking at my brother. Not wanting to look like a complete lemon, standing alone in the middle of the dance floor, he decided to go along with what she had asked. ‘This is quite kinky’, he thought to himself.

Looking around him for a girl that he could dance with, he spotted a lonely looking girl dancing on her own, with a drink in hand. She was rather large and not very pretty and sweating quite profusely from her dancing. My brother stepped up in front of her and began dancing and the fat girl just gawped at him. This was probably down to the fact that he was doing the David Brent dance from The Office, his arms swinging from side to side as he squatted and sidestepped to and fro in front of her.

 “FUCK OFF” she barked, and her eyes went all big and bulbous, and veins in her forehead were popping out. As she said this she relieved the contents of her glass all over my brother’s head. She was not very happy, and my brother made things worse when he just started to crack up laughing at how she had reacted. It seemed to annoy her further, and she started jostling to get passed him, her arms slapping about like a pumped up sumo wrestler.

Eventually, my brother gave in and returned to join us, his hair now soaked flat to his head. Mark and I were in hysterics at the fat girl and also wondering why he’d stopped dancing with the good looking girl. When he eventually managed to explain, we felt we should go and ask the attractive girl why she wanted to be made jealous, but we couldn’t find her, she’d done a disappearing act. There was only one thing for it. First, we went to the toilets and helped my brother dry off under the hand dryers. Then we went back to the dance floor, found the fat girl, formed a circle around her, and danced like loons for as long as we could before she went mental again. We lasted about 20 seconds, before running away like naughty children.

Letterbox Surprise

30 Nov

At the same time as we rediscovered our love of pulling moonies, we had another weird activity that would amuse us on a daily basis. It was literally getting ones bum out to fart. We found that when a backside was fully exposed, the pitch and tone of a fart would improve significantly, and so for a couple of months, every time someone needed to fart, they would drop their trousers before doing so.

One night a few of us were walking innocently through the town when Dan exclaimed that he needed to break wind. We immediately stopped in our tracks and watched as Dan dropped the back of his trousers and boxer shorts and then let rip with a fantastic fart that echoed splendidly. He then pulled his trousers back up and we ambled on, laughing like school children at his antics. We stopped in the town centre where we sat on a bench, chatting idly.

We hadn’t been sat down long when we saw a rather irate man approaching us, cursing under his breath. We didn’t have time to run, and anyway, we weren’t entirely sure if he was angry at us or not, so we stayed put. The man stood in front of us, and looked rather disgruntled. “Lads”, he began, “I got up to a bit of mischief when I was young. It was good fun, I admit, but trying to shit through someone’s letterbox is where I would have drawn the line”.

Trying not to burst out laughing at the risk of upsetting him more, I managed to speak up. “Sorry”, was the only thing I could think of; the image of Dan attempting to curl a turd out of his rear end and through a letterbox was at the forefront of my mind and I knew that if I had have carried on speaking, I would have broke into laughter.

“Just don’t do it again”, said the angry man, before he turned and left us, dumbfounded and confused, but with a possible idea for a future prank.

Primary School Shenanigans

14 Jul

During Year 7 at primary school, volleyball was introduced to our PE lessons, much to the delight of most of the class as it meant we had an hour in the warm assembly hall (which doubled as the gym), rather than outside in the cold, playing rounders. At the time, a few of us had started to discover the opposite sex; some boys walked around the playground at lunch time with their arms around their ‘girlfriend’. Some would even snog, much to the disgust of the other boys, who preferred to play Cops and Robbers and ‘Tag on the lines’ during lunch break. I remember these times well; it was during one volleyball session that I learnt the term ‘Sheep-shagger’, and although I didn’t know what it meant, it became the basis of my vocabulary for the next couple of weeks (until I learnt ‘jam-rag’, which caused my mother to spit out her tea when I asked what it meant)

There was a girl in our class named Heather and she was the one girl that every boy wanted to ‘go out with’. She was pretty, intelligent and very flirty, and her beauty caught the eye of two lads in particular in my class; Will and Martin. Both had a reputation for being disruptive in lessons, but good with the girls, and although they were mates, it was to be Heather that came between them. The events of one volleyball lesson during which their friendship ended have gone down in folklore at my old primary school.
Will was a beast of a 12-year old; nicknamed Rat Catcher, because he once fed a rat he found half alive (after it had been poisoned on the school premises) some crisps, he was someone you didn’t mess with. What he said, generally went. The girls would flock round him; I couldn’t understand it, but nothing ever makes sense when you’re young. Will had been pursuing Heather for quite some time, and she was finally beginning to crack. She would spend some lunch breaks with Will sat on the bench in the playground, just talking, and her presence definitely had a sort of calming effect on him – he was improving in lessons and spent less time putting itching powder down the back of the shirts of classmates. Will’s mate at the time, Martin, was a charmer – quite a skinny lad with a bit of a strange face, he used the gift of the gab to snag his girls. Unbeknown to Will, Martin also had a huge crush of Heather, and seeing her spending time with Will was killing him inside. When Will found about the secret crush, he warned Martin off, but this seemed to fire Martin up. One lunch break, Martin was seen by Will, who was in detention, with his arm around Heather’s neck, smiling and joking. Will was livid. Although he wasn’t officially going out with Heather yet, she was his, and besides, Martin was supposed to be his mate.

That same afternoon, we got changed and went into the hall for our PE lesson, which was volleyball. The teacher split us into three teams by lining us up and numbering us from 1 to 3. Will and Martin usually stood in the line when teams were picked so that they were on the same side, and their team inevitably won; but not today – they stood shoulder to shoulder, barely looking at one another, to ensure they were on different sides. We were to play ‘Winner Stays On’, with one team sitting out, who would then replace the losing team after every seven points. I was on the team sitting out, and on this particular day, we never got to play a game. The two other teams started their game, with almost everyone in the lesson seeing it more of a Will versus Martin game. Will served the ball for his team, but Martin’s team were equal to the task, and the ball came back over and the point was won. Neil snapped at the girls on his team, and was visibly angry. Looking up, he saw Martin high-5 Heather, and I could see him shaking – veins were visible on his forehead. With Martin’s team now serving, Will came forth to the net, face to face with Martin who was in a crouched position, ready for any return.

The serve came over, and Will’s team mates did well to return the ball to Martin’s team. Back it came again, at a good height for Will, who jumped up ready to smash the ball downwards. As he jumped, Martin jumped with him, arms spread, hoping to block the attempted smash at the net. The ball left Will’s clenched fist at a ferocious speed – straight into Martin’s nose, which spread outwards across his face. Martin collapsed to the floor, bawling, clenching his nose tightly. I remember hearing the crunch as the ball hit him. The girls in the class screamed, a few of the boys laughed. Will sat down on the piano stool at the side of the court and smiled. ‘What a bastard’ I remember thinking. Amidst the commotion, the teacher managed to get Martin to his feet and lead him to the matron’s office. The class was cut short – we were made to get changed.

You’d be wrong to think that Will had the last laugh though. Unimpressed by his show of strength, Heather went out with Martin for “being really brave”, and Will went back to being disruptive. His reputation with the girls soon waivered after the event, and Martin never fully forgave him, even though Will insisted it was an accident

My First Arch-Nemesis

13 Jul

My first arch nemesis was a fellow class mate at primary school. His name was, and probably still is, Billy Thompson, and I loathed him with a passion. In fact, I still do. Thinking about him makes me angry. Year 7 (we were 11/12 years old) was when I finally snapped. He would spend most of the day trying to outdo me in one way or another, and weeks and weeks of his constant one-upmanship culminated in an petty acts of revenge on my part, and nearly saw me kicked out of the school.

Part of me thinks it was jealousy; I wasn’t unpopular by any means, I got on with most of the people at my school and did well in class, even the girls didn’t mind me (they would often steal my pencil case). I like to think that Billy didn’t like this, in fact, he probably saw me as his arch nemeses at the time. However, looking back, the rest of me realises that he was just a cunt of the highest order. If I only needed 30 stickers to complete my Panini album, he’d say he needed 29, but would he swap any stickers he had as swopsies with me that I needed? Would he fuck – even when I offered him 5 shinies for his normal Barry Venison sticker. This was just one example of how he tried to make my young life difficult. I was always the person he’d chase when he found a spider, much to the delight of the rest of the class. It was always me that got a snowball aimed at my face, or my head pushed under the water fountain at break time. My PE trainers would get thrown up onto the roof at least once a week and I would be his main target when playing Cops and Robbers during lunch. A few other kids in our class started commenting on how Billy was always trying to outdo me. One joked that he thought class fitty, Emma, was going off me and had started to fancy Billy. Whatever I did, or wherever I was, he would be there, stealing my amazing jokes and trying to make the girls laugh. I was beginning to crack…

It was during a Friday afternoon free study period that my plan to gain revenge on my arch nemesis came to fruition. I remember it vividly. It was a hot Summer’s afternoon, and a gentle breeze came in from the open windows. The time was normally used to catch up with any work you were behind on. I used this particular period to form my plan, with the help of my best friend at the time, Daniel. I’d vented my frustrations to him on a number of occasions, and this Friday afternoon was no different.

“He’s a tosser, Dan. I hate him. I wish he’d just die”, I whispered.

“Do something about it then”. Dan looked at me in the eye. “He loves making your life a misery, get him back. I’ll help you”.

“Phew, I thought you were telling me to kill him for a moment! I need to do this, I need to wipe that smile of his face. Get me some lined paper, I’ll write down our plan.”

And so for the next hour, we discussed various ways to get Billy back. The plan was to start off lightly and progress from there. Being young and naïve, the ways to get Billy back got more ingenious and impossible to achieve, although they would result in ultimate humiliation. Two I remember in particular were ‘After school, get Billy to look away from the road by shouting his name, and Dan will push him into the fat lollipop lady so that they both fall over’ and ‘Fill a sausage roll with dog poo and give it to Billy to eat and make him go blind’.
The bell sounded to signal the end of the lesson.

“It starts Monday”, I told Dan.

The weekend came and went without incident, and come Monday morning I was eager to get started. During registration, Billy whispered ‘gay’ when my name was called out. There was stifled laughter from some kids, but I just looked at him and stared. He smirked back at me and I carried on staring until he looked away. ‘One-niI’ thought I, and I knew I was going to make sure he got his comeuppance. I realise this tale is dragging on a bit, and if I went into great detail about what I actually did to Billy during the week, it would turn into an essay. So in list form, he are some of the things I remember doing:

-Dan and I hid every pritt stick in the class in Billy’s draw. When our teacher questioned their whereabouts, we hinted that Billy had them. She opened his draw and he was left red faced, as he had 15 sticks of glue stuffed in the back. His protests to the teacher fell on deaf ears
-We rolled up a piece of meatloaf and stuck it on top his rucksack. All the girls thought he had a piece of poo on his bag. Billy looked annoyed.
-I told Emma that Billy had a plastic blanket on his bed because he was always wetting it. The rumour spread like wildfire.
-There were numerous attempts to put drawing pins on his seat
-Dan farted in his draw one lunch time and closed in quickly shut
-We hid worms and ladybirds in his lunch box.
-We named Billy as the culprit after someone had left skid-marks in the boys toilets. I knew it was Patrick Ramsden really, but didn’t care.
-Dan, being quite a fast runner, would target Billy during ‘It’ and make him ‘It’. We would then stay in the safe zone for the remainder of break.
-We told Sandra, a girl who struggled with her weight somewhat, that Billy fancied her.
-We hid a ballet shoe in his PE bag (I don’t know why)

Looking back, it looks as though I turned into a bully for a week. But after 2 years of him being a wanker, I felt it necessary to do what I did. Billy was getting more and more agitated as the week went on, and on Thursday lunch time, it all came to a head.

“Stop being a fanny and leave me alone”, shouted Billy. The playground went silent.

“Oooh, egg-gy”, I remarked. “I don’t know what you’re on about, Billy”, I replied.

With that, Billy launched himself at me, pushing me in the chest. I fell backwards, but grabbed his shirt as I fell, and pulled him down with me. We hit the ground and rolled around, trying to Chinese burn each other. Billy got me in a headlock and started to rub his knuckles frantically across the top of my head. It hurt like a bitch, but I summoned up the strength to wriggle free. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the sand pit. I made a dash for it and picked up a fistful of sand. As Billy sprinted at me once more, I flung the sand in his eyes and he went down easier than Stephen Hawking after a few beers. Kneeling over him, I pressed my thumb into his eye. My frustrations were all coming out, in a very aggressive manner. Billy begged me to stop. I did momentarily but then started kicking his shins.

“I hate you, you prick”. I pulled off his shoes and chucked them into the hedge. A large circle had formed round us now, with kids shouting ‘Fight, fight, fight’. I was eventually pulled off of Billy by a teacher, and to shorten a long story ever so slightly, I was nearly suspended over my actions. I had to get my mum to explain to situation I had found myself in. One thing changed though, Billy soon backed off after the incident.

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