This could possibly fit under walkdontruns request for “what silly thing have you done on dope” stories, as this occurred at a party and the parties I used to go to had a bit of the old “wacky backy” floating around. But was probably due to huge amounts of booze.

And I have probably told you all this before, but I’m bored so its high time you were.

It is 5am on a bright summers morning. Kizlode and I are sat in his garden, with music playing quietly in the front room and drifting out to us. It is the morning after a party and we are still up. Everyone else has gone or gone to bed.

I say we, because Kiz has fallen asleep now, sat on his chair and is snoring. So I go and get myself yet another drink and have yet another cigarette.

“Kiz! Kiz! Wake up you Llwnt!” nothing.

I gaze at the big fellow as he lists to one side looking like a super tanker with a leak. I glance down and notice that he appears to be sitting on a purple cushion. I say appears to be, as I can see a little corner of it sticking out from under his groin area.

Then I remember – Kiz has a whole in his jeans and THAT is not a bit of purple cushion. Its his scrotum, complete with a bit of the filling shall we say. I start to giggle and then, as if by magic, the little demon appears on my shoulder.

“DO IT!”

So I take out my lighter and spark it to life, and deftly play the flame over said “purple cushion” for at least two seconds in an attempt to wake him up.

NOTHING!

This makes me giggle even more – which actually wakes Kiz up! So he gets another drink, we chat for a bit and then decide it would be possibly a reasonable idea to get some sleep. He goes up to his bed and I hit the sofa.

After about four or five hours we are back up and setting about a brace of breakfast beers, purely to stave off the lurking hangovers you understand.

“I should have come in from the garden last night instead of sitting out there with all them Gnats and midges around” says he.

“Why?”

“One of the little bastards has got in through the hole in my jeans and bit me on the left bollock, its really itching!”

I started to giggle and, looking as sincere as I could while shaking with laughter, apologised and confessed all.

Lucky for me, he saw the funny side of it.

Sorry about that one mate.

Sniff, drip, cough.

Damn, have to wait till Friday for some more money. I have some at the moment but not as much as I want - who ever has that much, but I think I have enough to make it if I live like a church mouse.

So that'll be me scurrying about on the floor going "eeek eeek" for the rest of the week.

But this financial situation also means I cannot afford a big lunch time pig out excused by the saying "Feed a cold and starve a fever" which is a pain because I effing starving.

Oh well. Lets drag my dripping carcass down to the sandwich shop and see what is on offer. If I drip on some stock I might get them cheaper.

What? who said "gross!"

Well my nose and trains.

What is going on there then eh?

I mean, right now I have a stinker of a cold – NOTE not “man flu” I am at work, so there. But I am full of snot and my head feels like it is packed with Styrofoam insulation.

I walk to the station and my nose is what it is, just a nose. A rather big pointy one – but just a hooter, nothing more. No drippage, no escapes of nose tadpoles – nothing.

Yet get on a train and it seems that I have had a tap grafted on to the front of my face. A tap with a bit of a leak, which has to be constantly attended to with tissues and wiped regularly. How bloody charming I must look.

Get off the train at the other end and, as if by magic, all liquid expulsions cease!

What is going on there then eh?