Thoughts, theories and a description

His hair was as greasy as a Christmas pudding (solid opening line). His hair looked like someone had stuffed a Christmas pudding on a bald man and then carved a bit away from the eyes and then run a fork down the sides to make it more hair like. It really was remarkably like a Christmas pudding. I am talking about myself. I just described myself because this is a story about my kidnapping, in the youth club where I was then working, and without having a clear picture of me you will not be able to visualise the horror that I experienced. Finally (we are nearing the end of the paragraph), it is a story about redemption, retribution and absolution (with escaped chipmunk as priest – see later).

Did I mention this blog was set in 1998?

Video 1. Advanced lesson on creativity.

I was workin’ a few extra hours at the youth club at 4 per. I was hot and young. I was mad and dangerous and something about that fire breathing personality (fucking shed loads of C2H5OH 1, on a Fri’ night mate) did not chime with the kid’z ultra conservative herd mentality. And on the night of 12 December the little grubfaced schoolyarders acted on their prejudice and hatred for those who dare to be outrageous, like the UK legal system circa 1949. Wilde/Turing/Shirley (unified by brilliance/not sexual orientation. When it comes to batting for the other side, I would intentionally let the bowler knock my wicket off in order to sabotage their team. Seriously, I am not gay.)

Figure 1. Self portrait with hand signal.

Simply put, they led me into the store cupbard with the promise of a Spliffy bomber2, locked the door behind me and left me for dead until the next youth club meeting, a fortnight later, when, surprised by their scheme’s success, they let me out. They messed with the wrong youth club worker.

Video 2: My thoughts on inequality.

Perhaps you can imagine spending 14 days in a youth club store cupboard? Perhaps you don’t see the big deal? Perhaps you would have the resourcefulness and strength of character to eat nothing but strawberry laces and quench your thirst with nothing but cherry pop, without so much as a tooth brush? Perhaps, ignorant reader, you don’t know what the fuck you are talking about mate? Like, seriously, my teeth were furrier than a, like, Sylvanian Families figurine, or some shit.

The kids arrived two weeks later and found the doors open, the lights on and everything stolen. They opened the door to the cupboard. They were scared when they saw me. I was wild. I was shaking and screaming madly. I stank from the two weeks worth of soiled trousers from fibre free food. The biggest of the children untied me. I quickly and efficiently set about the children and locked them in the cupboard. Their fear of my mania compensating for my weakness. Ten minutes later their patents were back having been phoned up. I threw my useless phone from its position outside the cupboard at the biggest dad who had broken the door down. It hadn’t rang once. I had one text from T-Mobile. We paused a while to regard each other. I was the first to run. I ran all the way to my bedsit. I cancelled all my shifts at the offlicense for a month. I set about debasing myself with Dominoes Pepperoni Passion and PlayStation 3. All I can remember from the month is possibly watching a couple of Family Guy episodes.

I was free. Gradually my wounds healed and I readied myself for the systematic attack on the innocence of all the children who wronged me. What follows is my catalogue of retribution:

Name Retribution
Arthur Browning Hamsters head in bed (his (both)).
Ben Kingsley Urine filled super soaker (mine (both)).
Sarah Amis Showed her her parent’s internet sex page.
Kalif Abdullah Campaign of hate against his mother’s YouTube cupcake cookery course through obscene comments.
Autumn Shirley (coincidence) Air rifle pellet in dad’s Ford’s wing mirror (he ended up beating me up; I sued; I won; I paid fee; who’s the real loser?).

Table 1. Repercussions of youth club terror.

Autumn’s dad is… eugh. I told him I’d get him and I mean it. He has beaten me up three times now. I mean come on.

Figure 2. Dignity. I’ve always been interested in oriental culture ever since I first saw Enter the Dragon.

Anyway, that’s what I’ve been up to. Here’s what we can talk about next time:

Video 3: A song about Chessington World of Adventures.

I’ll tell you more about the trip to Chessington another time but the key thing is that while I was hidden out in Bubbleworks I met a hamster that I’d earlier freed and told him all I have done and he told me that god forgives me.

Yours feeling the searing heat-pain of truth,


1 Booze you idiot.

2 A type of jacket.