Sunday, 28 February 2010

"People don't have to be real for me to hate them..."

Sat around watching 'Futurama' on a lazy Sunday afternoon I recall my mother's detest for the programme.

"But Mum.. why don't you want me watching Futurama?"
"I just don't. Okay?"
"But why?"
"It's that one, you know, the one with one eye."
"Yeah. What about her?"
"I just don't like her"
"I just don't!"
"Is it something she said?"
"No. I just can't stand her. I hate her. I hate her I hate her."
"But why?"
"I don't know. I just hate the woman."
"You know she's a cartoon right?"
"Yes. People don't have to be real for me to hate them."
"I'll bare that in mind. So that's the only reason you don't like it?"
"Yes. That and the robot strippers."
"But it's a joke Mum. When they take off their 'clothes' they just have circuits underneathe. It's meant to be funny"
"Well I don't like it. God I hate that one with one eye."
"She's called Leela Mum."
"I don't care what her name is! I don't ever want to see her again"
"Okay, you won't. I promise."

I'm sorry Mum, but I've already broken that promise because there she is... The woman you hate so much, in all her glory, sitting atop this post, a grotesque sore upon the face that is my blog.

Friday, 26 February 2010

Touché my anonymous friend...

Looking through my phone i stumbled upon a text message I received some months ago. I thought I would share it with you.

Unknown number -

"Your unreal mike you have ruined another day. Its midday you had whole mornin to clean the house, stuck playing games all morning? we cant"

It ends there. At the time I looked at the message and wondered what to reply. After some deliberation i wrote.

"Its 'You're' not 'Your'. Mike should have a capital M, and it's 'It's' not 'Its'.

P.S. I think you have the wrong number."

I didn't get a reply. I decided to see how my mysterious friend was doing today.

"Hi. Howre you and Mike doing?" - I couldn't find the apostraphe on my phone so i sent it without. After all I was quite certain she wouldn't care or notice.

She replied back.

"Its 'How're', not 'Howre'"

Touché my anonymous friend, however, you missed the apostraphe out of 'It's' twice now.

Sorry but I think that means I win.

Thursday, 25 February 2010

A new low. Even for me.

I was sat with my lovely Cellist friend in the atrium at University, when one of the usually pesky people with flyers comes over to us. He's not pesky because he's quite cute, so he can be as pesky as he likes. "Hiya guys can I borrow you for a minute"
"Of course" i say before my friend can turn him away. He sits down opposite me.
"Okay, well if you fill out one of these forms, it'll only take about 30 seconds, you will be entered into a prize draw to win £250."
"Okay cool" I pretend to care. I put in my name and phone number. "What is the information going to be used for? You're not going to send me a load of stuff are you?"
"No, no, not at all"

I reach a box that reads "Business title."

"Business title? I don't have a business."

"Oh don't worry, just leave it blank, or make one up."

"I'll make one up!" my friend says and starts scribbling down nonesense into the box.

"I'll leave it blank" i say handing him the form.

"Go on, make one up." So i do, I take the form back from him and look at the empty box. "Business title". Hmm, what should I write? I look down at my imaginary WWGD bracelet, and pause for a moment...

I recall a time when my friend (I call her Grandma) and I were in 'Clinton Cards' buying Christmas cards. She asked the cute boy behind the counter if he had a pen. He did, he handed it her. She started to try write her Christmas card but found the pen didn't work. She asked for a piece of paper to scribble on, scribbled down her phone number, then handed it back to him. Smooth, taccy, but smooth i thought.

So i sit there, opposite the cute guy. I look at my phone number in the box, I look back at the cute guy. I start to write, and yes, this is a new low for me.

Business title: Call me.
Where did you hear about us?: The really really hot boy opposite.

I hand the form back to him, feeling a little embarassed. He looks at it, smiles at me and says, "Thanks".

I start to regret what i've done already, I feel like Jenifer Aniston should be playing me in some god awful chick-flick.

"What did you write as your business title?" My friend asks me, the cute boy still sat opposite.

"Nevermind." - She asks again. "Nevermind!". She continues to pester me.

"What did you write in the 'Where did you hear about us' box then?"

"I put the really hot boy opposite us.." I don't look at her. I look at him. He smiles but it goes incredibly awkward.

I try to steal the form back, but he says goodbye and takes it away, along with my dignity.

Press 5 for Free Food!

My incredibly funny Cellist friend and I are walking with our friend to a Christian sex talk. Why?

Free food of course.

As we are waiting by the lift, we see the sign, "Press 5 for free food!". Floor 5 it is then. We see some scary looking people holding large plates of inedible looking ham sandwiches heading towards floor 5. My Cellist friend turns to me.

"You know what, I really don't think we should be going to this Christian sex talk."


"Well, a gay, and a young Mum. Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Good point."

We turn around and pay for our lunch like normal people.

I have fallen out with Boney M for nearly getting me killed...

Karma, it's a bitch. Today i stole Lee's ipod headphones; I broke mine and wanted to listen to music on the way to Uni so i stole them, and i most certainly paid the price.

I'm walking along happily listening to 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun', a personal favourite, when an angry muscley mid-twenties man, wearing a track suit and holding a can of strongbow (9am. I know, scary) apporaches me. I have the music on quite loud and can't hear anything he is saying. He's gesturing wildly and looks extremely angry, I look to where he is pointing and there is another similar man also holding a can of strongbow. I take one headphone out to hear what they are saying, but that doesn't really help much, it's still drunken nonesense. I look at them confused as they sway back and forth in front of me, looking like they might attack me at any given moment. "Wha ya listnin' too!" I manage to vaguely understand what he is saying. He grabs the free headphone dangling by my chest and forces it into his ear. "Wha 'a fuck is this shit!?"

I panic. I don't know what to say. Say it's your sisters ipod, make up some intelligant believable excuse, or you are going to lose your teeth. Quickly, think quick.

"It's Cyndi Lauper..!" I spurt out. The worst thing I could have possibly said.
"Cyn'i Fuc'in Lauper? Who the fuck, is Cyn'i Fuc'in Lauper!?"

I say nothing but reach into my pocket to change the song. The Ipod is on shuffle, I hit next song, praying it will land on something 'cool' or 'manly'. Praying it might land on the one Dizzee Rascal song I have, or one of the Hadouken! songs, or maybe even The Killers but no...

It lands on the worst thing possible. Boney M - Rasputin.

"RA RA RASPUTIN LOVER OF THE RUSSIAN QUEEN!" Bursts out from the headphones.
Oh god i've done it now. Goodbye face.

"Wha' the fuck is this!?"

I don't answer, i push past,

- Well i say push past, when I was telling this story to my friend this morning she corrected me.

"You definately didn't push past them. You skipped around them didn't you?"

Which is probably more accurate. So I skip around them and continue my walk to Uni, terrified that they might follow me. I hear them mocking me shouting "Cyn'i Fuc'in Lauper" behind me.

I hit next on my ipod as I have fallen out with Boney M for nearly getting me killed...

"It's Raining Men" plays out.

All i can do is thank god that didn't happen a few minutes ago.

Thanks a lot Karma. Thanks a Fuc'in lot...

Tuesday, 23 February 2010

Blood Sweat & Queers

Me trying to be an angry activist. It just isn't me.

Back to cocktails and gossip methinks.

Sunday, 21 February 2010

Sol Campbell!

The balance in our flat is a very difficult thing to maintain. A certain level of homosexual atmosphere must be retained at all times. The other night it was catastrophically interrupted. -

Four men in our front room, three gay, one straight. The balance was in order - all was well, until...

Football. Football ended up on the T.V. The bane of my life, on my very own T.V, for 90 minutes, plus overtime!- No ammount of Cyndi Lauper or Celine Dion could cover the enraged straight war cry that our extremely heterosexual friend yelled at regular intervals. "Sol campbell!"

"Which one is Sol Campbell?" I bravely ask, not really wanting to know the answer.

"That big scary one".


We tried to disguise the heterosexuality of the evening by saying "Ooh, he's quite fit". but it just didn't work, and when we thought it couldn't get any worse, out come the pints, and...

"Do you want to see Rihanna naked?"

"No. God please no."

"Look i'll show you."

"No, no, no" Google is already up and he has already typed Rihanna naked into the search bar.

"But I really don't want to see Rihanna's breasts.. Oh look, there they are."

He then drank a pint.

No ammount of rainbows and glitter will correct the balance now.
We better get Elton John, Stephen Fry and Graham Norton on the phone.

You there! What day is this!?

I'd like to introduce you to a new friend of mine - Jonas the snowman. We built him on our roof this morning when we discovered that snow had settled over night.

Although it is 21st February I couldn't resist trying to reenact our favourite book of all - A Christmas Carol.

"You there! What day it this!?"

"Why it's Christmas Day Sir!"

"It's Christmas Day!" said Scrooge to himself. "I haven't missed it. The Spirits have done it all in one night. They can do anything they like. Of course they can. Of course they can."

- That's how I should have liked things to play out.

It went a little more like this.

"You there! What day is this!?"

"Piss off!"

I must remember I don't live in a fictionalised 19th century Christmas London; therefore Lee and I pelted them with snowballs. - Maturity; a concept I've not yet grasped.

Friday, 19 February 2010

You've not been pregnant have you sir?

I've been working on an article about the ban on gay men being able to give blood. On doing my research I rang up the doctor's surgery to find out my own blood type.

"Hi, I was wondering if you could help me find out my blood type?"

"Sure, what's your name"

"Calum McSwiggan"


"Do you want me to spell it?"

"No, no. 21st of the 5th, 1990? Is that right?"


"Oh, sorry, we don't have it on record. We only have it if you've been pregnant? You've not been pregnant have you sir?"

"Funnily enough no. Is there no other way I can find out?"

"Well... You could donate blood.."


"and you would be supporting a good cause at the same time"


"I'll tell you what i'll get you the number for the national blood service and you can contact them to donate"

"But I'm not allowed"

"Oh, why not?" (Nosy bitch)

"Because I'm gay."

"Oh. Sorry then. I don't know what to tell you... Bye"

Hmm. Well if i'm ever in an accident and the paramedic asks me my blood type I suppose i can always guess...

Tuesday, 16 February 2010

Pancake Day

Finnish friend: What in god's name is pancake day?"

Me: It's a British thing, just another excuse to eat pancakes"

Finnish friend: You Brits are weird, no wonder you're all so fat"

Oh. So aswell as being stereotyped as sinical and sarcastic, we're fat now too. I thought that was the stereotype for the Americans.

- And the Finnish don't have pancake day.

Who knew?

Monday, 15 February 2010

I think I know why it's such an unusal fit...

Valentines day. I'm woken up by a text early in the morning. I sit up and reach for my phone.

It's Mum.

"Happy Valentines day. Just so you don't feel left out".

I didn't feel left out, but now I do. Luckily, Lee and I have decided, rather than being single and depressed, we will play happy families and give one another a valentine. I get him a polo shirt, a pair of boxers, and chuck a few chocolates in the bag too. He takes me shopping.

We started browsing through a shop, that's music was playing out so loud that we had to shout to one another. I felt like I should have been dancing, or looking for the bar.

"Do you want a drink?" Lee shouts to me joking.
"Do you want a drink?" He makes a drinking action with his hand.
"Do you want a.. nevermind".

The volume of the awful R&B soundtrack disorientates the both of us, we end up at the back of the shop shouting to one another, trying to discuss a top Lee quite likes.

"The shape of it is really nice. It's a really nice fit. It would really accent your body, you'd look gorgeous in this"

"It looks weird"

"Yeah its not that nice, but the fit is nice. Look how it thins out towards the bottom, and look how much space it has in the chest, It'd make you look really muscular"

"You think?"

"Yeah..." He pauses, he looks extremely embarassed.

"What's wrong?"

"I think I know why it's such an unusual fit..."


He points at a sign above our heads. I look up and see in flashing pink neon letters. 'Womens'

"Oh my god, put it down, we're leaving".

"Yes" Lee agrees and starts shouting really loud so the other people in the shop can hear. "We might come back and buy it for our girlfriends later. That is why we were looking at it. For our girlfriends."

"Shut up. Your making it worse"

We leave the shop with much haste, vowing to never return. We spend the rest of the day making absolute sure we are in the men's section before touching anything.

Lee bought me a nice shirt in the end, god i hope its not made for a woman.

Saturday, 13 February 2010

Eats, Shoots & Leaves

My friend, I call her Grandma, (See "What Would Grandma Do") and I enjoy arguing over the smallest things. She's over seas at the moment so arguing face to face, as we usually would, has become somewhat difficult. Email is the answer. Today's argument was about the infamous Lynn Truss and emoticons.

Grandma: If I did emoticons, I'd do a smiley face one right about now. But I don't. Emoticons are the evil of modern man.

Me: Lynn Truss is on board with emoticons, they can't be that bad.

Grandma: Lynn Truss cannot be okay with emoticons. I don't believe you.

Me: We shall see! I'm going to find "Eats, Shoots and Leaves" she says it in there somewhere! I'll be back soon to direct quote her!

I ran off to find the book and flicked through the pages excited at finally getting a chance to prove my ever so intelligent friend wrong. I found where she talks about emoticons so started typing it out.

"Lynn Truss: Eats, Shoots & Leaves. Page 192-193. "You will know all about emoticons, emoticons are the propper name for smileys. And a smiley is, famously, this: :-). Forget the idea of selecting the right words in the right order and channelling the reader's attention by means of artful pointing. Just add the right emoticon to your email and ... See Moreeveryone will know what self-expressive effect you thought you kind-of had in mind. Anyone interested in punctuation has a dual reason to feel aggrieved about smileys, because not only are they a paltry substitute for expressing oneself properly; they are also designed by people who evidently thought the punctuation marks on the standard keyboard cried out for an ornamental function. What's this dot-on-top-of-a-dot thing for? What earthly good is it? Well, if you look at it side-ways, it could be a pair of eyes. What's this curvy thing for? it's a mouth, look! Hey, I think we're on to something. :-(. Now it's sad! ;-) it looks like it's winking! :-r It looks like it's sticking its tongue out! The permutations may be endless: :-/ mixed up! <:-) dunce! :-[ pouting! :-O surprise!. Well, that's enough. I've just spotted a third reason to loathe emoticons.."

As i typed this out, I realised how wrong I was.

Maybe I should give up using emoticons, afterall I have noticed i've dangerously started to use the shocked face :O as a replacement for the humble comma when writing emails, well, maybe just one more.


Monday, 8 February 2010

You were asleep... In the bath!

Me, Lee, Faye and her close gay friend, we'll call him Chris, decide instead of going out we will stay in, play drinking games and watch a few films. It'll be a nice quiet night in. One deck of cards, zero films and several bottles of sprits later and the following occurs.

"Where's Lee?"
"I don't know. I've not seen him in a while". We go to the bathroom door and knock.
"Is everything okay?" There are grumbling noises from the other side of the door.
"Lee. Is everything okay? Let me in". we hear more grumbling noises.
"Let me in or i'm going to break down the door". When i'm drunk I decide i'm part of the LAPD in some sordid American crime flick. "I'll give you to the count of three... One... Two... Three". I break the door with the palm of my hand, well not really, the lock just breaks. We look down at the bathroom floor and there is Lee wrapped up in towels. "Are you okay?". He still doesn't say anything, he just continues to grumble. "What are you doing on the floor?" The three of us nudge and sit beside him to make sure he is okay. He doesn't seem to be sick. "I'm going to take you to bed".
"But i am in bed". he protests as I try to pick him up.
"You're on the bathroom floor"
"No..." he winges pulling the towels around him tighter.
"Come on". I try to pick him up again.
"No! I just want to go to sleep".
"Let me take you to bed then.."

I don't recall how the rest of this played out, but i'm told I eventually did manage to carry him to bed. The next thing I remember is me and Faye giggling while drawing on him with permanent marker. He ends up with a badly drawn phallus and "Hello my name is Lee" on his feet, and a pretty star on his cheek. "Where's Chris?" I ask after a while noticing the absence of his campness. "He stayed upstairs"
"Well what's he doing?".
"I don't know. Lets go see". I make sure Lee is wrapped up warm and we go to find Chris. We look in the hall, we look on the landing, we look in the front room, we look in the bathroom. He is nowhere to be found. "Where is he?" I check the tiny storage cupboard. Not in there either.
"Did you hear him leave?" I say confused looking behind the back of the couch. Faye goes into the bathroom and I hear her burst into laughter. I run to see what she is laughing at, and find Chris in the bathtub with a blanket over his head. I cannot begin to describe, or express, the hilarity of his position. I have no idea come to think of it, of why on earth we didn't take a picture, but we didn't, so you will just have to believe me. It was bloody well funny. I look at the shower head pointing at him, Faye looks at it too. "We can't". I say.
"We can't not!" she exclaims laughing her finger slowly creeping towards the on button. Sadly he wakes up confused. "What's going on?" Faye retracts her finger.
"Nothing honey!". We smile and help him out of the bath. Next, unfortunately it is my turn to randomely fall asleep, at least i did it dignified in the bed. Faye was left sat alone with a bottle of rosé on the couch. Everyone else asleep.

The next day.

Me: Who are you texting Lee?
Lee: Jay. Telling him what a good night he missed
Faye: Well what do you know? You were asleep by 11.
Lee: Well you lot had fun
Me: Yeah we did.
Faye: Yeah but you all went to sleep.
Me: When did I go to bed?
Faye: About half four? You went to bed because I wouldn't let you on the roof
Me: I did? Well at least I didn't fall asleep in the bath
Faye: I don't know why you were all so drunk... I was sober as.
Lee: Well why didn't you carry on drinking then?
Faye: What? Sit around getting pissed while the rest of you are in comas? Not my idea of fun babe
Chris: Yeah you light weights
Faye: (bursting into laughter). You were asleep!... In the bath! You can't call anyone a light weight.
Me: I wasn't that bad.
Faye: You were asking me if you could get arrested for climbing on the roof. You were dressed for bed. That's indecent exposure.
Me: Well its my bloody roof.
Faye: Yeah well you can't drive around naked and then say 'it's my bloody car'.
Me: I can't drive... How did you get me down?
Faye: I didn't have to. You fell off your chair trying to get the window open.
Me: Oh.

I love quiet nights in.

Saturday, 6 February 2010

Men! (Angry face)

Lee: I'm at work for six hours today, could you make me a meal for when i get back please?
Me: Of course.

As Lee has been working hard as of late, I decide I will cook him a really nice, expensive meal with dessert.

Six hours later.

Me: Welcome home. I made you dinner.
Lee: Oh I don't want that. I've already eaten.

Men! (Angry face)

Friday, 5 February 2010

Tax doesn't have to be taxing.

My funny, funny Cellist friend and I are sat in a classroom after we have just finished doing our presentations. We were all very much relieved it was over. Our favourite lecturer who was orchestrating the whole thing stands at the front of the room and says warmly. "Okay guys. Well done to all of you. You've all passed" (We all cheer) "Now, I have a little suprise for you, but first we have to do a little self assesment". The words 'Self Assesment' pop up in big letters in front of us on the slideshow. "Tax doesn't have to be taxing" my friend whispers into my ear. I find this incredibly funny and can't pay any attention for the next five minutes. The self assesment is over. Its time for the suprise. "Now because you've all done such a good job, i've got a little warm fuzzy to help calm you all down"
"A warm fuzzy?"
"Yes!" she exclaims pressing a button to make a picture of a red panda pop up on the screen.
"Its a red panda! Awww isn't it cute!" At this point i begin to wonder whether in fact our lecturer has gone mad. But she hadn't. She had devised a clever plan. Lull us into a false sense of security and spring bad news upon us all. "Its adorable isn't it!" she repeats staring up at the picture with an expression of wonder and delight. A big smile planted across her lips. Her smile suddenly drops without warning. "So. In other news. I'm leaving".
"I'm leaving"
"Don't worry I've got a replacement."
"Who is it?
"Your creative practice lecturer". Groans go around the room.
"I feel like i've been ripped from the womb!" my cellist friend says to me, fixated with a devastated grimace. "Are you leaving for good?"
"No no. I'll be back next year." She looks back at the red panda. "Isn't it cute".
"Yes its adorable, but why are you leaving". She explains her reasons but won't stop talking about the red panda. I contemplate again whether or not she has gone mad, I look to the front of the room and see that she is saying goodbye to the panda, aswell as us, and decide that she definately has got a screw, or two, loose. She says she is off to London to do a research project, but my money is on her going to join Kelly Adams in the bahamas. Bless her. We'll miss her very much.

What would Grandma do?

One of my closest friends is a few years older than me, is full of wisdom and has many insightful things to tell. Therefore, I call her Grandma. She is currently studying in America, and in her absence she left me something very special. An imaginary bracelet. It reads WWGD. What would Grandma do? This is possibly the most useful thing I have in life, applying it to all situations is a must. Here's an example of where i used it recently.

I sort-of-met quite a cute boy, not really my type and somewhat annoying, but rather cute none the less. He sent me a facebook friend request so I accepted. As one does when they want to know more about a person in the 21st century, I began browsing his profile for shreds of information about him.

First I looked through a few pictures. He's okay looking I thought to myself, but really nothing special. Okay, lets look at his info.

Relationship status: Single. - Okay good start.

Birthday: January 27th 1989. - A year older than me. That's okay.

Favourite movies: Legally Blonde. Epic Movie. Twilight. - Okay, I absoloutely adore Legally Blonde, but not mentioning the second film is worth punishment alone. And as far Epic Movie and Twilight. The less said the better... But movies aren't important. Ah books, lets see what books he likes.

Favourite books: Fuck reading! Lmfao!!!!

- I paused for a moment. I looked down at my imaginary WWGD bracelet and swiftly hit the 'remove friend' button. I felt better for it too, thanks Grandma.

Wednesday, 3 February 2010

The English Faculty

My time studying A level English Literature was a fun time, a strange time. Our class was small, consisting of myself, My ludicrously out and proud, bear look a like best friend, the compulsive liar, who lied about anything and everything, but then felt guilty seconds after and had to tell the truth,

(e.g. "Have you done your homework?"
"Oh my god! Yes!... Well I didn't... Butttt"
"I've been to America too!". [brief pause] "Well I haven't... Buttt"

the giggler, who would burst into hysteric laughter at any given time without warning, the mother of the class who judged us on everything we did, our friend from Sommerset, who the bear look alike insulted constantly, in jest of course, and Jj, the personality double of Elle Woods from Legally Blonde. Thinking about the two years I spent with them, i thought it appropriate to write a blog entry sharing a few anecdotes. So here goes...

Ahh. Pomegranite Juice. Mighty Healthy for the Prostate.

For every single lesson we had with our strict yet humoured literature teacher who started every sentence with a soothing 'Ahh', my bear-look alike friend took it upon himself to make me laugh from start to finish. So much so that i would bite the insides of my cheeks so hard to stop myself laughing that they would bleed by the end of the hour. Everytime i managed to stop laughing I would scribble down notes and try to answer a few questions.

"Ahh Calum. What does ambigious mean". I fumbled nervously trying to find a way to describe it. "Erm. Open ended?". Okay, it wasn't the best answer, but it was sort of right.
"NO!" he bellowed and i cowered into the safety of my bear look alike friend's jokes.
"Ahhh JJ. What does ambigious mean?".
Now whenever Jj was asked a question, no matter what answer she gave it would be followed with.
"Ahh. Very important point Jj". Jj, bless her heart, once deduced that a characters name was Laura, because she was described as being surrounded by an aura. Of course this was followed up with the usual.
"Ahh! Very important point Jj".

Half way through this lesson however, the seven of us were in trouble. I can't remember what exactly it was we had done, but we had done something to make him very angry. He stood at the front of the room scalding us for misbehaving when his wife (It wasn't his wife but they lived together and were together for something like 15 years, so lets say it was his wife) enters the room holding a tray of cakes, biscuits, tea and pomegranite juice. "Oh.. Welll. Hey". She was also our art teacher and she had promised us she would treat us for something 'good', again I can't remember what, we had done earlier that week. She couldn't have chosen better timing. Our Literature teachers face dropped as he was completely undermined by his wife. He said nothing as she sat down at the table with us and started handing out cakes.

"I haven't interupted anything have I Rob?".

"Ahhh. No, no. It's fine. It's fine". She smiled and started pouring tea. I felt sorry for our Literature teacher, and in a way wished he had carried on scalding us. He strolled over to the table where we sat, a dignified, scary expression upon his face. He leaned over us, we held our breathe, and poured himself a plastic cup full of pomegranite juice. He took a sip, we still held our breathe as if we were waiting for his verdict. He closed his eyes and opened them.

"Ahhhh. Pomegranite juice. Mighty healthy for the prostate!".

Where in the world is Kelly Adams?

Now usually in a blog post I don't like to use a person's name, certainly not there full name without their permission but in this case I have no idea where she is, or if she still exists so it seems safe to do so.

In our first year of studying literature we were tought Dorian Gray by a lovely lady by the name of Kelly Adams. She was a very light hearted teacher and most of the lesson was spent laughing. We learned a lot from her. We were about two months in to the academic year when at the end of the lesson Kelly got up like normal and said happily. "Okay guys. See you all tomorrow".
"Bye miss". We replied and she walked out of the door. Little did we know that would be the last time we ever saw her. We arrived the next day to our lesson and stood outside the door. Ten minutes passed, the classroom was still empty. "Ten minute rule!" our compulsive liar friend said. The ten minute rule was a precise rule made by the students, never agreed upon by the teachers, that if they were ten minutes late we didn't have to turn up. We waited a little longer and by the time twenty minutes had passed we decided to leave to the common room. We sat down and talked for a while, thinking nothing of it, when our head of sixth form strolled through.
"Kelly Adams didn't turn up to our lesson today, and we didn't have a substitute".
"Oh really? I wasn't aware she was absent. I'll check it". She scurried off into her office. She returned a few minutes later saying it was sorted. As it was Friday, we went home for the weekend and returned the following Monday. We went to our literature class room expecting to see Kelly, but instead we had a substitute.
"Where's Kelly?" we asked. "She's ill I think".
"Oh okay". We thought nothing of it, that was until the following day, when the mother of the class ran up to us with news. "I saw Kelly last night!"
"At school. She was putting stuff into her car. When i went over to her to see if she was okay she sped off" "Maybe she didn't see you?"
"No she did. She saw me, got straight into her car and drove off". "Oh." I didn't understand what was going on. Weeks passed by and we still had the same substitute. Eventually one of the English language teachers came to teach us instead. It was only sixth months later when another one of our teachers told us what had happened to her.

"Kelly Adams?. I'm not suppose to say."

"Go on. We won't tell anyone". (oops)

"Okay but you didn't hear this from me."


"She's fled the country. She's in Barcelona. Or Barbados. I forget which".

"She fled the country? Why?".

"I'm not allowed to say".

To this day I still have no idea why Kelly Adams fled the country, and i'm not sure i want to know either.

I'm gonna Facking kill you!

In our second year, presumably to take the place of Kelly Adams, we were given my all time favourite teacher we'll call her "Cathy". She was very young looking and told us she often still got ID'd. She taught us some of my favourite books, and was quite friendly with all of us. She sat listening to one of our awful conversations about one of the teachers. Like all students we made fun of even our favourite teachers in one way or another.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. I hope you don't talk about me like that"
"Oh we don't Cathy. We promise". We all said in unison. The fact was, I'm ever so sorry 'Cathy', if you happen to read this, that we did. It was only the following lesson when the first thing she said to us was. "Oh. So i'm allergic to everything am I?". Cathy had a few allergies, and when trying to decide what to get her for a Birthday present, we were joking about it and being quite mean. Some of the first years overheard and told her. "We're sorry Cathy. We didn't mean it in a bad way." We presented to her our gift of candles (which we are pretty sure she put straight in the bin) which helped towards her forgiving us. "Oh and by the way. You call this a Facking essay!?" she said producing half a page of scribbled writing and forcing into my bear look alike friend's hands. "Sorry Cathy".
"She forgave him for that too".

Towards the end of the school year I went to Cathy's office for some help with my coursework. After i had got the help i needed she asked me to sit down. I sat down at her desk.
"Unrequited love is a sad thing isn't it?"
"Yeah, i suppose. Why?"

"You mean you don't know?"

"Your best friend is in love with you"

"He is?"

"Yes. Have you not seen the way he looks at you? You always sit together"

"We're just friends Cathy. Honest"

"Just trust me on this one okay. You won't tell him I told you will you?"

"I won't. Promise"

The next day, I couldn't help myself, i marched straight up to him in the common room and said. "You will never believe what Cathy said to me in her office yesterday".
"What?" At which point our whole class gathered around to hear the gossip.
"She sat me down. And well told me that you're in love with me". To which the seven of us sat around giggling.

We went to our lesson where Cathy had produced me a Caterpillar Birthday cake, as she did for all of us on our birthdays. (Yes it was my birthday, i forgot to mention). "Thanks Cathy" I said taking it from her and pulling off one of the eyes to eat. I began cutting it and sharing it amongst the seven of us. Half way through eating the cake, my bear look alike friend obviouslly couldn't contain himself any longer and shouted out across the room. "I'm not in love with Calum miss!" Everything went silent. Cathy glared at me, holding her I <3 NY mug at a slant, spilling some of her tea/coffee onto her desk. Our lovely friend from Sommerset shouted out. "Yes you are. It's obvious". To which he replied.
"Isn't it harvest season? Back to the farm with you!".
To which our giggling friend burst into laughter. A farce unwravelled the only silent people were me and Cathy. She was still glaring at me. After a few minutes the room went silent. Cathy held her glare and screamed at me. "I'm gonna Facking kill you!"
To which I was terrified. If it wasn't for the ban on corporal punishment i'm pretty sure she would have dived over the table and attacked me. Everything was resolved by the end of the hour. Oh Cathy, we love you so much.

The war elephant

On a Tuesday morning we had double English Literature and often turned up early to have a chat and a giggle. Most of the time one of the language teachers would be in there, who would join in with the conversation and tell us Chuck Norris jokes. One morning, very close to the end of the year, she was not there and we were left to our own devices. I don't remember how this came about, but because I had my saxophone with me, it seemed like a good idea for me to mount my bear look alike friend, like an elephant, and charge into the open cupboard doors, in an attempt to close them all, whilst playing a low resonating E, while our giggling friends video'd us. I'm sure there was a reason for it, I just have no idea what it could have possibly been. Half way through doing this, our literature teacher entered.
"Ahhh. Good morning class". We froze in our position and didn't dare move. We stayed in that position for a few minutes. The teacher acted like everything was normal. He sat down at his desk and began reading from the Duchess of Malfi.

"Ahh Duchess!".

I got off my friend and put away my saxophone. We both sat down at our seats and sat trying not to laugh. My friend drew endless pictures in my book to make me laugh and as usual by about halfway through i was in pain from trying not to laugh. For some reason we thought the teacher hadn't noticed us. For all that time we sat no more than a foot away from him, quite clearly laughing all the way through, yet he never said anything. The lesson ended and just as we were leaving the classroom we heard our teacher call us over. "Ahh. boys".
"If you want to play war elephant games, can you do it somewhere else next time".

"Yes sir".

"And don't laugh through my entire lesson please"


That's it we were rumbled, it didn't stop us though. My friend always found a way to make me laugh, but we never got in trouble, i can't help think that he must have had a soft spot for us.

Tuesday, 2 February 2010

Could I have a house party please?

Oh blog I've been neglecting you again. Okay well where to start, over the past week nothing 'blog worthy' seems to have happened. Contradictory to the title of my blog, Cal's life is not at all that fabulous. The lecturers have been riding us hard.. ahem... I managed to flood the kitchen while defrosting the freezer. I got published. Though I could attempt to tell you about these things in numerous humorous ways it would mostly be lies as they really aren't that fascinating. So instead I'm going to tell you all about my breakfast. Yes, you heard, read, right. My breakfast. Lee and I decided to go down to the pub for breakfast, when we arrived we realised it was match day. The pub was absoloubtely packed with middle aged obese grotesque excuses for men. We found an empty table in the corner and picked up the breakfast menus. As I went to ask Lee what he was going to have I was interupted by a disgusting gentleman with a pint. Ten in the morning and he's cradling a pint. As i'm rudely interupted i decide i'll evesdrop on his conversation. He's telling his friends how he 'pulled a well fit bird' and how he 'nailed her backwards against his bedroom door'. I'm not really sure what that means, but I deduce it means he slipped rohypnol into some poor girls drink and took her home with him. Just as I hear a fight beginning to break out we decide to leave. I lost all faith in humanity for the brief three minutes we endured inside that repulsive place. Instead we go to Frankie & Bennies. We sit down and enjoy a lovely breakfast when a woman enters leaving the door wide open, letting all the cold air in. "Can i 'ave a table for three please?'. She was on her own. I felt a little sorry for the waitress and when she replied bitterly with. "Yea. If you shut the bloody door" I felt like trippling her tip. She seats the woman behind us, Lee and I continue with our conversation after trying to figure out what brown sauce is actually made from we start talking about throwing a party. "So we should have a house party soon, invite the people we've not seen in a while"
"Yeah sounds good. Grab the waitresses attention and ask her for the bill would you?". And he does. "'scuse me"
"Could I have a house party please". The waitress and I look at him blankly. He doesn't seem to realise what he has said. The waitress fumbles nervously. "Sorry?"
"Could i have a house party ple.." I interupt.
"The bill. Could we have the bill please?"
"Sure". She wanders off still baffled and i watch the embarrasment creep into Lee's face as he realises what he said. We pay and i have an urge for iced tea. I've not had it since I was about nine, and i'm pretty sure I don't like it, but i want it. We go to Sainsburies and look down the drinks aisle for ice tea. "Ask the man". I say to Lee when we can't find it. "And don't ask for a house party". He doesn't find this very funny. We buy the ice tea and drink it while wandering around the shops. I take another drink still trying to figure out whether I like it or not, when Lee decides to momentarily disapear. I don't notice and I turn to a complete stranger, thinking its Lee, and say with a repulsed face. "I definately don't like iced tea".