The Whiff of Nostalgia

Discussion in 'Diamond Lil's' started by Blackrat, Dec 30, 2009.

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  1. Blackrat

    Blackrat War Hero Moderator Book Reviewer

    I had a smell of it today when i was on Facebook looking at my friends list.

    Some of the people on there i have known for many years and went to school with, which brought the memories flooding back of the good old days where bullying, rascism and being a cock was cool and which also got me thinking about some other people i knew. Let me elaborate.

    My west indian mate Tom for one. As kids in the playground, we would gather round him and rub his tightly curled hair while shouting "Porridge, porridge". We also used to hit him if he said "Aks" instead of "Ask". Tom ended up serving 8 years for his part in a local Post Office armed blagging scam.

    Fat Richard. Back in the days when kids were fat because they were greedy pie munching fuckers. We would constantly rip the piss out of him for his size and the fact he had a tang of beef monster munch, urine and badly wiped bottom about him. I used to enjoy booting him up the arse and legging it. He's something huge in IT these days. (see what i did there?).

    Lee. He was from the council estate and there was something feral about him. He had a pungent smell only found in those sort of houses, was the first to get an ear ring and lost his virginity aged 8 or something to the estate bike. He always wore ankle swingers and had a crew cut. He also had dodgy teeth. I heard he died in a car crash.

    Ian. He was a fucking tool of the first order. He was always winding me up and because of this, was a frequent recipient of my violence. I bog washed the sod quite a few times, would steal his bag and lob it over the fence, break his pens and pencils, beat him relentlessly in rugby and i even put a rumour around that he was gay. God knows what he is up to now.

    Andrea. She was sexy and she smoked. She was also a bit of a slut. I remember she let me insert a couple of fingers in her behind the sports hall. It was like feeding a tic tac to a whale. My memory of this was moving my arm like a mad man pumping up his bike tyre while she had her legs parted and was smoking a fag with one hand, and holding on to my shoulder with the other. Even after washing my hands, people kept commenting on the whiff of fish in metalwork that afternoon.

    I loved school. I was the House Sports Captain and a Prefect and one of my duties was keeping an eye on the lower school gents toilet. I would search the young un's for fags and matches, but only take the matches. I would then charge them 10p for a light. If they had a moan, i would punch them. Those were the days when bullies were like Gripper Stebson, the Rugby matches always ended in a punch up, the girls were much more fun and you could offend people and get away with it. Happy days.

    Anyone else get these pangs?
  2. Quite a lot these days. I grew up in the 60s/70s when coming home with a cut or bruise wouldn't get the school sued, and when teachers learned how to throw board rubbers so they'd hit the wall beside you and cause an explosion of chalk dust. Also, the same teachers were expert at causing mild pain with a gymshoe hit on the back of the shorts.

    I remember Jason D when we were about 10 or 11. He was the snotty nosed kid who'd always found you no matter how well you hid. One night we took him to a cemetary and we all pretended to die horrible deaths, screaming and writhing on the ground - he ran off screaming into the night. No idea what he's doing now - probably traumatised for life.

    Also, I got into trouble over some blonde curly haired kid who looked like a girl. I was walking past his house and he was sitting on the wall, so for no particular reason I just went over and pushed him off into his own garden and he smacked his head off the ground. Still feel a bit bad about that one.

    However when I was about 13, a new lad joined the class - John H, from the most deprived estate in town. Most people took the piss out of him but for some reason I felt sorry for him. Luckily for me, since he got sent to borstal for 12 months , came back as hard as rock, complete with home made borstal tattoos and kicked 7 bells of sh1t out of all the other kids who had ripped him to bits before.

    Happy days . .
  3. Blackrat

    Blackrat War Hero Moderator Book Reviewer

    Just remembered. Why oh why did they ever stop selling single fags in the newsagents? It was such a perfect system.
  4. witsend

    witsend War Hero Book Reviewer

    A 10p single and two matches, magic!!!!!!
  5. Blackrat

    Blackrat War Hero Moderator Book Reviewer

    Spot on Wits. If you clubbed together, you could also get some Happy Shopper Cola with the ill founded belief that it would wash the smell of the fags off you.

    It was always good when someone got money for their birthday as the oldest looking one of you could get a couple of cans of Colt 45, some Thunderbird or, if you were lucky, some Mad Dog 20/20.
  6. I still remember as a kid, standing outside the off licence of the local pub smoking black cat cigarettes that my older brother had bought, and then seeing the holy grail - someone walking out with a Double Diamond party keg of beer. Beer in a big tin - what a brilliant idea that was!
  7. Not forgetting the watney's party 7, plus fag machines were outside of newsagents and you could get 5 No6 or No10's
  8. Im from a mixed raced background, i use to love the racial insults, ginger insults and all the other types of insults that all booties received, but i have noticed it's getting less and less over the years, its just down to the society we live in i guess, we are such a PC nation and a sue nation that one wrong move or word can have dire consenquences.
  9. witsend

    witsend War Hero Book Reviewer

    I remember being sent to the shops by my mum to buy her fags when I was early primary school. Running down the road repeating, "20 club king size". Getting kicked out of the local bookies with my mate for stealing all those little pencils. Taking empty bottles from the worksites back to the shops, at 5p(might have been 2p) a time we made a fortune.
  10. We all like a fag in our lives at some point. When you are feeling down a fag will perk you up. A fag in my mouth makes me feel a man. Just the thought of me sniffing a fag before i take it perks me up.
  11. Not a lot.
    I grew up in a small backwater town in South Australia. Although I was born in Adelaide, my crime was that my dad was not only a pom, but he was also well educated, and as hard as a rock. He could fight everyone in town and win, I got the sh1t beat out of me because of it, until I reached the age and ability to fight back. It didn't help that I put my pet red back down the doctors daughters knickers and it bit her. It was her fault as she tried to twat it one and missed, and then it retaliated.
    I did not like the oath we had to say in school every Friday, and the anthem (I love a sun-burnt country) was not my favorite song.
    My two elder sisters were the divest pair in town and if I would not could not get them to talk with some of the dogs then I took a slap for that.
    Had its pluses though, did get a few sticky fingers along the way and when I went back just before I joined the Andrew I was treated with the respect of a seasoned traveller.
    No Tailem Bend was not good then, but having been back a few times since, well.......................... :wink:
  12. witsend

    witsend War Hero Book Reviewer

    Coming from a poor background, myself and mates where always on the lookout for making some cash. Penny for a guy was rewarding, but you have to fight for your patch. The local pub, the dry dock, was a dangerous spot with the amount of pissed up dockies from Yarrows at closing time. At the time the whole area was recieving a make-over. Whole tenement blocks where empty waiting to be renovated and we took advantage, lead, copper, window weights. Happy days down the local scrappy.
  13. The correct term for those singles is 'loosey'. Long gone are the days of getting rat arsed on that fine wine called 'Thunderbairds', smoking a loosey to get your head spinning even more so. And because it looks hard. Bagging (or trapping as you call it) off with about 8 lads (because you were too nervous to do it sober). Then finishing off on a wrigley's chewy, to erase the night of drunken debortuary. It worked like a treat every time.
  14. I was an eight year old drug dealer. I razzed a bunch of my mother's valium, ground it up, and offered the other kids a lick of the downer powder from one grubby finger. I'm not sh1tting you - that was what I did. It's a good thing I did grind it up, as I shudder to think what a complete 100 mg Blue Bomber would've done to an eight year old.
    My career as a pre teen Mr Feel Good came to a bloody end when the dinner ladies caught me moving my shit behind the kitchen bins. Of course, it being the Seventies, there was none of this Social Services or exclusion sh1t: they dealt with by clouting me one over the head, and then pocketing my stash with an appreciative nod.

  15. Yeah well I tried it in Birmingham in 1964 and ended in the bleedin Navy.
    The magistrate glared piously over the bench and said to my dad,
    He either comes back in two months as a gainfully employed member of an armed force or its Borstal and probation for him. And you did get both consecutively up to about two years.
    Welcome to bloody England.

    Edited to say, they could have had the decency to transport me to the colonies. :wink:
  16. We always used to buy a bag of extra strong mints from the sweet shop and, for some reason, we thought that our mums would never ever notice.

    Why did I never think that they did the same thing when they were our age!
  17. Get a fag in your mouth
  18. Don't joke about it. There were times when I was in the mob, where if I'd had a bit more to drink I might have ended up that way . . .
  19. I was a clever teenager. I would use reverse psychology. Instead of going straight up the Apples & pears to get my pissed fat head down, I would make a big effort to go in the living room and talk a load of sh1t to them. And for some strange reason, I was always overly friendly with the dog! I still believe to this day they never knew I was sh1t faced, even when I was threw up in my sock and found it hid under my bed about 2 weeks later.

  20. Ohhhh the newbies have got all this to come......Happy days

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