Category Archives: true stories

Revenge

Fixing the archives has thrown up this post I drafted in 2006 and never got around to publishing. The dog and the old git are long since vanished – no idea whatever happened to them.

The 2006 post starts below this line.

Reminded of this by a post from Scaryduck today.

DTL vs the Fluff-Ball

The was and still is a misrable old bastard up the road from me. He walks a yapping bundle of fluff up the road twice per day, letting it shit where ever it wants. Complaints about this are shrugged of with

“its only a fuckin’ dog. I can’t stop it shittin’”

and several days of the dog ‘deciding’ to drop a load right outside your house.

It was after the poo stared to pile up on the pavement outside my house I decided to get revenge.

From the juices of the Sunday joint, I made up some of the tastiest gravy known to man or dog. Poured into a cup and left by the microwave ready for the evening dog walk.

Seven PM rolls by and the yapping gives away the approach of the dog. The microwave goes on to warm up the gravy and thirty seconds later I’m at the door, cup in hand. Waiting until the Miserable Bastard can see me, I pour the gravy over pile of shit remaining from the morning walk.

Fluff-ball scampers up seconds later and starts wolfing down the gravy covered shit in full view of Miserable Bastard. My job done, I head back inside to watch dog being dragged back home in disgust with the Miserable Bastard ranting and raving at the dog

“stupid fuggin dog”

and the world in general

“bastards!”

I’ve had no trouble with that dog shitting outside the house since.

Tagged – belated update.

I’ve been tagged by Ben to list six random things about myself. Here goes.

  1. My superpower is the ability to detect minute quantities of cucumber from large distances. It is rarely of use to anyone.
  2. I bake terrible cakes.
  3. The last book I read was The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie. I finished it on the train on the way home tonight.
  4. My dog is named Pointless, I had a cat named mincemeat.
  5. I plan to win an Ignoble Prize someday for my research.
  6. I can do this:
    Not as painful as it looks...

I tag anyone else that wants to do this.

Rationality 1 : Superstition 0

On 3 March 2008, in a popular TV show, Sanal Edamaruku, the president of Rationalist International, challenged India’s most “powerful” tantrik (black magician) to demonstrate his powers on him.

Minutes turned to hours as the tantrik tried spell after spell against Sanal Edamaruku, attempting to kill or harm him. Live on TV (attempted murder in front of hundreds of thousands if not millions of witnesses?).

Of course, the tantrik failed. More here.

Nutters on the tube

The paragon of comfort and convenience that is the London Underground plays host to a fair number of oddballs, weirdoes and downright nut-cases. These mainly inhabit the central portions of the network. Unfortunately, living as I do, out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the western spiral arm of the galaxy out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable eastern end of the District Line, I don’t often come across top quality hatstand-ness.

This morning, dressed head to toe in black, big headphones on, and an ‘I’ve not had anywhere enough Tea this morning’ expression on my face, I get on the train and park myself opposite a rather inoffensive looking little old man. Had I had enough Tea, I might have spotted the warning signs before I sat down – the fact there was an empty seat anyway and they way everyone was avoiding any eye contact with the chap.

Just as I made to sit, the old fellow jumps up as if to make room for me, then sits back down saying “alright mate?” “oh, you can’t hear me can you mate?” “I support West Ham”. I say “oh, right – nice one” – I actually dislike football then pull my book out of my bag ‘Confessions of an English Opium Eater’ and start reading.

In the meantime the old boy has gone off about how everyone is listening to music, and turning away from god. I’m just thinking we have a ripe one here, when he spots the book title and starts up about drugs and the ills of the world, how god died on the cross for us (umm, wasn’t it his son? Or at most a third of god?), then really hits his stride mangling some quotations from the book revelation. Of course “no one reads it these days, but it’s all coming true y’know.”

Were I more awake and up for some fun I may have joined in haranguing the passengers with the old fellow, quoting from the Life of Brian, “For the demon shall bear a nine-bladed sword. Nine-bladed! Not two or five or seven, but nine, which he will wield on all wretched sinners, sinners just like you, sir, there, and the horns shall be on the head, with which he will…”

He got off after two stops, the rest of the journey in was pretty tame.