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Originally Posted by Christian Benteke
Came home drunk in the early hours of the morning once when I was about 16ish so a while back now. Was watching telly in bed and one of those Babestation type shows was on. I sent two or three explicit foot related texts from my phone (they read the texts out on screen, fuck knows why I did it I was pissed) and thought nothing of it. I bought a new phone not long after and a mate didn't have one so I said he could have my old one. We were on a night out some time after and there was a few of us there having a beer. Out of nowhere he goes 'Oh yeah Martin, I've got a bone to pick with you' and pulls the phone out of his pocket, goes into the sentbox and proceeds to rip the shit of out me, reading out these dirty texts I'd sent in front of everyone. Felt like a right dickhead.
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Okay I don't understand this. Was he pissed because he found the text on your phone and people might have thought he sent it, or did he just not like the fact you sent the text? Anyway, you NEVER take anyone's old phone and if you do you do a serious deepscan level clearout of it, getting rid of any incriminating pics, videos, texts or phone numbers because these days handing someone your phone is like handing them your life.
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I necked a pint on holiday once on an empty stomach and as I got up to leave the bar I could feel it swirling around in my stomach, my eyes and mouth just started watering, I knew I was struggling and wasn't gonna be able to hold it in and I was sick there and then, it ricocheted off the floor/bar and went over a girl's bare legs who was stood at the bar. I looked at her, she looked at me and I just carried on walking.
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You didn't even apologise? Shame! I would at least have offered to clean her legs -- with me tongue!
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One time playing football on the astro turf, a lad on my team brought one of theirs down in the box, one of their players, a Pakistani lad at the other end of the pitch, runs all the way over to our end argue about it when there was no fucking way he could have saw from where he was. I point back the other way and tell him to 'fuck off back to where you came from'  .
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But by saying that you meant back to the other end of the field, of course. Didn't you?
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I have shit myself once too on the way out to the city centre when I was ill (Diarrhoea) but managed to get back to my house before bumping in to anyone. Potentially that one could have been a disaster.
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I refuse to comment on this, except to say that once, when I was MUCH younger (say six or seven) and at school I knew I had to have a **** but the teacher would NOT let anyone leave the classroom and the inevitable happened. Let me just say it was not a pleasant walk home that day!
Gaah! Thanks for reminding me of that, Benteke-who-was-Fluffy!
