Sweet Pete

Eggs and chocolate should always be kept in the fridge. This isn't 1940.

Gotcha, I thought you were saying that it would have some effect on their tenancy at Stenny or something.

Why would relegation to the lowland league stop them from playing anymore home league games?

What's the chat with the Shire? They in financial bother again or something?

I used to have two single beds in my bedroom at that time, for when mates would stay over. Me and my childhood best friend were playing this insane game in the floor space in the middle of the room and managed to scorch and burn the carpet and the bedspreads on both beds, one at each side of the room. Told my maw my chemistry set blew up and she believed it. She would literally believe anything I told her as a kid, the benefit of being the baby of the family and her being a busy, harassed single mum I suppose.

Currently sitting here smelling of banana, in trousers that are soggy and covered in suspicious white stains. Just really hope that nobody comes into the office today.

Plus one on the explosives. A tennis ball sliced open with a Stanley knife, filled with match heads till it's absolutely full, taped shut with gaffa tape and then given a good, hard bounce is good fun. Also, Vaseline mixed with weedkiller was another. Produces incredible amounts of thick white smoke, then flares like magnesium. We also used to put socks over our hands, spray the socks with deodorant, spray a bouncy ball with deodorant, light the bouncy ball and then play catch with it, igniting our aerosol soaked, be-socked hands. f**k knows how we never died. Thankfully the anarchist's cookbook existed in a pre-Google, pre-9/11 world.

Another home economics one was that we'd steal the plastic chopping boards and then use a heated knife at home to carve them into custom grinder plates for our rollerblades. It was the 90s and aggressive inline skating was cool.

I got the dry heave reading that.

Just spilled the banana flavoured yoghurt from a Muller Crunch Corner all over the crotch of my black Henry Lloyd trousers at work, plus my jumper and my office chair. Get your spunked himself jokes in now.

My French class in around second year was full of yahoos and on one day when an aged, weirdly shaped, nervous and heavily overweight supply teacher took that class the kids tore him to ribbons. You could see as soon as he walked into the room that morning that he was hanging by a thread to his sanity, poor auld c**t was barely functioning, the kids sensed weakness and harassed him from the first bell. After about 20 minutes he stopped trying to discipline or quieten the class at all, looked at a tall thin ginger lad who hadn't opened his mouth, shouted at him, fell silent and then simply left the room. Never saw him again. Guy I knew who sat behind me in English in 3rd year drew the Countdown clock in his English jotter, spelling it Cuntdown and drawing a half decent vagina in the dial, with vagina-people as the guests and hosts of this fictional, labial quiz show. He propped the offending page up against the filing cabinet at the back of the class immediately behind our desks as we left English that day. Back in that class the next day and the teacher had everyone in the class stand up and went on a super tirade, this woman was furious about Cuntdown. Only four of us at the back near the filing cabinet had even the slightest idea what she was on about, so there were 30 kids giving it shrugs and "what do you mean?" and four of us standing at our desk beside the filing cabinet trying to stare at the floor and look innocent. She eventually gave up the inquisition and started the lesson, but the same week I was going from one building to the next during class time and she happened to be walking along behind me and called me back. As it was during class there was no-one around to provide a distraction and she started quizzing me about the sketch. I was shuffling like f**k on the spot and getting really awkward, but didn't say owt so she couldn't prove anything and gave it up. Got thrown out of home economics during third year for a variety of things. Me and my mate were the only two males in our home economics class for the two standard grade years, so played up a lot. Got chucked out the class one day for holding a dog eating contest (arms behind the back, face in the dish) with some lasagne we'd just made. Had a pastry throwing fight one day, the raging wee teacher wifie calmed it down and sent us to our seats, then went ballistic when she noticed I'd jammed some additional pastry inside a plug socket. Tried to have me suspended, this wee arsehole of an ancient techie teacher who was about five foot came shouting in my face about the threat of consequences, just stood there with my gob shut and he eventually fucked off. That wee decrepit auld c**t is a lifelong Sons fan and can be seen at every Dumbarton home game, helping out as a kind of volunteer club official. There was a fat, heavy metal fan kid who tagged along with our wee group that no-one particularly liked. We figured that as he was a bit of a cadging c**t he'd never say no to a free juice, so we all spat in a can of Coke and one particularly weird wee guy made himself boke into it, then when the guy turned up we offered it to him and he gratefully accepted it. Kids are vile creatures. In second year me and the Cuntdown lad sat together at the back of our history class and over several weeks drew a succession of cocks of various size and detail on the floor, wall, desks, filing cabinet, posters etc, all at the very area we sat at. After some weeks when we were thoroughly surrounded by phalluses, we hit upon the genius idea of removing suspicion by approaching the history teacher at the start of class, looking disgusted and pointing at the cocks. Flawless. Having a bit of a shoving match with a kid in my year one lunchtime it started to get a bit serious as these things do and he charged at me, head down, swing his arms and trying to both headbutt and punch me simultaneously, so I grabbed his head in a headlock and back him into a glass panel beside a door, shattering the glass with his head, at which point we both decided to be somewhere else. My school was right by my house and the kids in our street would have bonfires each October on the ground out front of the school. One evening we were there messing about with fireworks when I hit upon the idea that by balancing a roman candle sideways, propped up by a rock we could aim it at the science classroom windows. The windows it turned out were plastic and charred and melted in places, much like a lighter scarred bus stop. Another night, not bonfire night, we were messing around by the school when we decided to set the big Biffa type bins on fire. The flames caught hold pretty quick so we fucked off sharp, swung by the jannies house as we made our exit, put on innocent faces and said we'd been returning from football training, seen smoke and raced to his house to raise the alarm. Genius. The annex building was next to a raised grass hill which gave great elevations of the windows all along one side of the building. We'd go into the school on summer evenings and stand atop the hill practicing our golf swings by driving balls of the hill and into the building's windows. Buying a gram of speed one day off a kid in my biology class, we snuck to an outbuilding by the main gates at lunchtime to make the exchange as it would by quiet there we thought, just as he slips me the wrap and him the money, a car beeps its horn and his dad waves at him. His aul fella was picking him up early that day for a dentist's appointment and he'd forgotten. Made the exchange look like a really protracted, elaborate handshake and got away with it. A new boys toilet block was built in the main building and within about three months of opening it'd been closed again as it'd been vandalised to f**k (another belting cock by mineself included) and a kid who has since gone to jail several times for stabbing crimes left a 2L bottle filled with fireworks in it as a makeshift bomb. One day in 4th year I hit upon the idea of stealing booze from my step dad, mixing it in a sports bottle with some juice and taking it into school to consume with my pals. This started a bit of a trend amongst the group of drinking during school hours for a short while, culminating in some of them (not me on this occasion) getting chucked out of a vacant R.E room they were drunkenly occupying around fifth period as they'd been drinking lambrusco at lunch. Sure there are others, but that'll do for now.

I absolutely hate you, Ruggy.

Just as well you're having a girl then, you name stealing highland b*****d!

Stop sharing my photos on the internet please.

Nah, he looks too much like you, it'd creep me out. Besides, I've my hands full as it is with the terrible twos on-going in my gaff.

Pete's a nice name...

He sounds like my kinda guy.

Whisky.

I think his daughter posts on here.

Had this debate with a Celtic season ticket holder colleague a while back. I put across the point that if you expect to, and are expected to, win every tournament you compete in (domestically at least), then what's the point? It's like playing FM and using cheats to give you all the money and all the best players, when you get past the novelty of winning all the time it becomes mundane. For his part, he didn't disagree.

About a fiver in Clydebank indoor market.

You'd have to triple bag it, she's almost certainly been passed round every toothless, racist skinhead in Scotland.

3/10, would not bang. Undecided on the older sister though, looks like a possibility below the blanked out face, would need further photos before I could confirm.

I remember it happening briefly with Blackpool when they were in the Premier League a few years ago. Started seeing loads of folk with bright orange tops on, and it wasn't even marching season. Just as quickly, the fad disappeared again. Strange.