lil' beyutch
you're psychic mate.. 'unique talent' were my words exactly, in my thoughts but i've known for a long time..

noah is a genius - prolific artist. y'all don't know..


happens to the best of us.. oxford has some highly educated wasties.. i was there for the footy once, got talking to a stankin destitute at the bar - blinded me with philosophy and science!

Fuckries. How old was he when he became an alcoholic 'proper' would you say?

I think just after he started uni he could get away with getting pissed all the time, since everybody else was partying so much. Started a degree in English with an a A in the subject at A level, family and friends assumed he was gonna be some sort of genius, so he got a bit arrogant. He was reading classics like Catch 22, 1984, Brave New World, On the Road, etc when the rest of us were still reading "Fighting Fantasy" books.
Fuck knows what he's doing now. It goes to show that alcoholism is tolerated somewhat in this country as long as you can still basically manage day to day.


It's me bitches! Recognise! I have a unique talent, dammit!
That Swan Man thing had me crying with laughter, I emailed it to a load of my friends but I don't know what they thought about it.

Mr. Tea

Shub-Niggurath, Please
That Swan Man thing had me crying with laughter, I emailed it to a load of my friends but I don't know what they thought about it.

You know what I thought about it.

(Quality stuff, Mr. Noah! :))
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the abyss
just saw a drunk stumble past, it was great.. ya know, that rat-arsed, could hit the deck at any point stumble.. he was sporting a 'shakin stevens' - dressed head to toe in stone-wash.. combed grey mullet..

i was round at a mate's recently, one of the lads brothers came over.. he's an alcy - we had to wake him up from deep sleep on a piss-soaked mattress.. the first thing he did on walking into the garden (we was outside, blazing etc.) was walk straight off the stream bankside dropping a metre or so, face first into the water.. we spent the next hour rescuing him and his specs..

livened up the occassion! he's a harmless drunk.. not a violent drunk..

i saw a wastey hit the deck face first in clapham.. dozens stepped over him.. i asked if he was alright.. "i'm fine".. if you say so!

i was in the west end the other day about 3pm in a bar waiting to be served and felt someone punch my arm. i looked round expecting it to be a friend, but no, it was a massively inebriated odd looking bloke with bananna yellow trousers, a sleeveless t-shirt and a wild expression. i tried to engage him in conversation but he kept shouting "its your funeral mate!". in the end he got bored when he evidently wasn't going to get the reaction he wanted from me and started shouting at the barmaid "wheres my fucken drink". he was politely informed that he wasn't going to be served, at which point he left the bar, pausing only to violently shake someone holding a pint from behind, thus spilling the drink all over the bloke.

weird thing is, he didn't even look particularly tough, just very, very pissed. he was mostly invisible to everyone.


Cat Malogen
Any new takes?

Saw a bloke staggering round a bus stop earlier. He couldn’t let go of the rail, but clearly wanted to. Combat trousers, no top, crumpled hat. Car was handbraked and looking over you could see a few students who’ve stayed for summer edging away from the stop’s shade. Kids were yapping away in the back of the car and in a second he stumbled out in the traffic “all of youse is soft cunts”, purest Glasgow. Kids all piled up at the open window to look at the noise, had to close. He took a swing at a scooter moped thing that whiz-weaved through cars, missed, belched and flopped back in the bus stop

One human where you know he’ll be dead in a year


Well-known member
lived in an apartment building once with a harmless neighbor who was a notorious drunk (not sure about drugs by probably them too). one evening I go out to the corner store to get milk or something and he's outside the door on the sidewalk, staggering around. I walk the few blocks to the store, buy the milk, get back to the building about 15 minutes later and he's still outside, struggling to get his key in the lock. I said "hey, let me get that", opened the door and let both of us in. he stands all wobbly in the lobby, looking up at the stairs (he lived on the 3rd floor). I said "are you ok? why don't you sit down for a bit and take a rest? or do you want me to help you up the stairs?" he waves me off, so I go on my way up to my apartment.

a few hours later I hear police and ambulance sirens outside. turns out he must have climbed partway up the stairs, lost this balance, tumbled down the flight and cracked his head on the lobby floor. RIP. I was likely the last person to see him alive, detectives even came to my apartment the next day to take my statement.


i recently read a charming obit for the world famous yelling man of wood green busstop rip sorely missed :(


Well-known member
years ago I used to live in a "commuter town" about ten miles out of the city centre. Rather than go to a local pub filled with folk I went to school with and people who knew my parents I would always go into town and get the last train home. You would see so many sights on the 00.15 departing Glasgow Central. People falling about themselves, crying or fighting or horny and causing all sorts. And being the type of person I am, I can never help myself from asking "are you OK?" especially when I've had a few drinks, not because I'm particularly kind or even because I'm nosey, it's just that I could never stop myself from worrying.

Two memorable moments:

1) the guy who got off the train, walked five steps, then wobbled on the ice and fell backwards on to his head. He just lay there covered in blood for a moment and when I started to shake him awake he told me to fuck off, as if lying on the ground half-conscious in December snow was a normal thing for him to do. I had to show him my hands covered in his blood - not just a few spots, the proper watery stuff - before he believed he had seriously hurt himself. Even then he wouldn't let me phone an ambulance or anything, he wanted to walk home alone but I insisted stupidly that I accompany him. It was a five minute distance that took half an hour. He was shouting nonsense about "the poofs" and "the feenians" until I pointed out that he was going nowhere fast and if I left him he wouldn't have got anywhere at all and probably ended up in a hospital or a cell. When we finally got to to the house he lived in with his ancient mother I chapped the door and started to explain what happened and maybe could she tell him to go to hospital. She dragged him inside and said she would deal with it and slammed the door in my face. The vibe was very much "ffs what's my boy done now?"

2) the (very old) guy who was sat on the wall beside my flat, swaying with his eyes closed. He'd lost his wife a year ago to the day and had decided he'd had enough of being sat at home miserable and wanted to go out. He'd had a horrible time - he'd gone into their local and didn't recognise anyone, and the people who knew him were asking where she was, not knowing she had died. He had gotten obliterated. The police drove past, stopped and asked if we were OK, and I didn't have the heart to say "actually this old guy's drunk and havering and could you take him home" because he'd suffered enough indigity and also for all he was needing help he wasn't doing me any harm. I finally managed to get him to agree to let me walk him home - he would have ended up lost or mugged or worse otherwise - and again it was a five minute journey that took half an hour. He invited me in to sort a taxi for me and I was resisting but I realised I needed a pee so I went in. When I came out the bathroom he said "oh I was going to get you a taxi" then he, without a hint of irony or humour, handed me over a Taxi-brand biscuit. Obviously I just thanked him and scarpered home as quickly as possible.

Mr. Tea

Shub-Niggurath, Please
@boxedjoy - that bit about the Taxi biscuit fucking killed me. Love it.

Also reminds me of a time years ago when I was at this club with some mates - a pretty druggy sort of place, and most people there were, at a minimum, doing pills and smoking weed - and my mate got talking to this guy while queueing for the bogs, and the guy suddenly says "Do you want a mushroom?". Now he looked very much like the kind of guy who might have psychedelic drugs - skinny, hippyish clothes, long straggly beard, white-guy dreads - so my mate, already pretty E'd up, says "Yeah, go on then". Then the guy produces a plastic shopping bag, takes out an ordinary supermarket mushroom, and hands it to my mate. I think he might also have had a sweet pepper and a head of broccoli.

Just a guy, in a night club, with a bag of vegetables, offering them to people.