Extra-curricula tales. Chat not only welcome but actively encouraged
Swam in george michael’s swimming pool while he was in jail for smashing his car into a snappy snaps.
Shat in some milk
Stole a child’s slide from a front garden and was (very rightly) shamed into returning it by some people who were slightly less drunk than me.
Didn’t steal a traffic cone but stole a roadworks sign. Police followed us all the way home didn’t they
Actually worked really hard at something and achieved it
Never before, never since
More wacky but we decorated our lounge entirely with A4 drawings of the heads of the casts of Neighbours and Home and Away.
Did a “Grand National” of getting between two parallel streets by climbing over the walls of all the posh walled gardens. Woke up the next day with my hands and arms all cut up to fuck because there was ground glass on the top of the walls to stop people doing exactly that.
Also there used to be temporary bus stops everywhere, we moved them to some really wacky places*
About 50m down the road
Brought home a soaking wet advertising poster because the rain had washed away half of the ink and I thought it was “art”
Hung that disgusting thing on my walls for a couple of years.
What a loser.
graffito tagged the walls of our apartment building, but ran out of space for one of the words, so it had to go round the corner.
was cleaned off less than a week later.
Really liked to climb things when drunk.
Didn’t speak to anyone for so long my vocal chords atrophied
Gave myself a pretty bad ice burn with salt and an ice cube to see if it left a mark.
It did, yes.
In my first year our corridor has loads of notes from the staff about keeping things clean and stuff, just A4 paper in plastic wallets. At some point, we hilariously decided to rewrite them, just enough that it wouldn’t be apparent at a glance (swapping “cutlery” for “cuntery” and so forth) and changed them all up. Lasted a while I think but they’d gone when we got back after the next holiday.
Oh good, it’s got a Wikipedia page now.
This happened to me in miniature during a class, I hadn’t spoken for the whole thing because I hadn’t done any of the prep work and was just hungover and trying to keep my head down, then I was called on specifically to answer a question, “What do you think this poem is really about”, and because I hadn’t spoken in ages my voice came out a cracked and sinister whisper: “Death!”
Everyone pissed themselves laughing.