The Devil made me do it!

Of late I’ve been picking random posts of my site to read. Mainly because I want to see if my writing has improved any at all. I used to love the What If? Challenge and tried to come up with something fun and quirky each week. This was one of my favourites, so in a fit of nostalgia, I am going to repost it.

I left the original details in so you get the idea what the challenge was. This was written in 2013, I wish my little brain could still think like this!


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This weeks Whatif? Challenge

What if you let your dark side take over?

An unfortunate event has allowed the Devil to own your soul. He has decided to give you a chance to get it back but to win it you must bring a smile to the Devil’s face with your actions. He allows you to have one full day in which you can do anything your heart desires without fear of consequences, retaliation, retribution or prosecution.

An unusual turn of events indeed. I have been pondering this one for a few days, well since Sunday, when the challenge went up. No one willingly wishes to court the Devil, so the conundrum is, how best to tackle this unfortunate event and in fact turn it to your advantage.

The Devil dislikes my body, he has no option but to use it as a host, so will spend endless hours fashioning it into a more visually pleasing and competent, super human vessel. Even without the option of choice, I will secretly marvel at my new svelte frame and flowing strawberry blond (gingerish) locks, some things it seems just cannot be amended. From the array of clothes that my new figure opens the opportunity of, I will select a black all in one jumpsuit, that clings to every curve and makes both womens and men’s heads turn. “Who are you?” they will say, awed by my presence and I shall reply, “I am the Ginga Ninja, remember my name, for it will be the ruination of many.”

Black Widow

The Devil turns his gaze from me, just for a few minutes. It seems his addiction to Starbucks coffee is just the same as any mortals. His lapse in concentration affords me the chance to substitute the list of victims he has provided, with my own.

He bids me farewell, a wry smile on his face.  It would appear he does indeed derive great pleasure from a soul in torment. I have 3 hours in which to perform 3 kills, if I am to make the Devil smile and regain my soul.

11.59 am

I slip into an apartment block just west of Sudsly Avenue. It is run down and dingy. Rats scuttle at my feet as I read the names on the mail boxes. Smiling, I mentally note the number and proceed to climb the stairs, mumbling about the fact that his nibs did not consider flying as an option, when it could have been so helpful. Stubborn bloody man.

Two henchmen guard the door, but they are no match for the Ginga Ninja and I quickly dispense of them and hide their bodies in the broom cupboard, giggling to myself about the cliché of it all.

True to his form, Bubbles the Beast McGinn is in the bath. It takes him a minute to realise I am there. “My boss sent me” I say. I am instantly recognizable as soulless, so I am not surprised by the look of shock on his face as I push his head below the water, holding it there until the beast bubbles no more.

12.45 pm

Lunchtime – Kentucky Fried Chicken for a Boneless Banquet for One – Gravy as the side. What ffs??? A girls gotta eat. This assassination lark is not easy and besides my feet are killing me in these high heeled boots!

2.30 pm

Destination downtown Dumpsville. A laundromat on the corner of Persil Place. The sign in the window asks for young female workers, promising good benefits and competitive rates of pay. Rita the Rinser has been using the same ploy for years to lull young girls into her lair. She promises them the earth before she drugs them and sells them on as either prostitutes or slaves. I spy her loading washing into a huge clanking machine and quick as lightening I am behind her. Again she can sense I am soulless and visibly relaxes, that is until I whisper in her ear, “My boss sent me” and push her headlong into the machine, setting it for boil wash.

3.05 pm

A quick call into Manicures for the Mighty. I need to look in pristine condition for my next job, the last on my list.

3.45 pm

A prestigious fashion house. In full stealth mode I hitch a ride to the top floor hidden in a rack of clothes. I see my prey hunched over, pencil in hand, sketching out the new seasons trends. Saying not a single word I snap his neck like a twig.

4.15 pm

Grabbing a Starbucks I head back to ‘Satan’s Shack’ a prestigious gambling establishment I know he with the horns frequents. Sure enough, there he is surrounded by women and being fawned over by men. I step forward and offer the Starbucks.

Me: “I’m all finished, can I have my soul back please?”

Devil: “Why would you even ask such a stupid question, you have just killed two of my most loyal staff members, how could you ever imagine this would please me.”

Me: “I thought you knew everything ffs. Every night those two pray to God to forgive them for theirs sins. Every night their excuse is the same, ‘the devil made me do it’. In the end they were going to be detrimental to your business, and besides you’re going to save a fecking fortune on bubbles and soap powder.”

Devil: (sniggers) “Dam, you made me laugh, and by the terms of our agreement I must give you back your soul. Get out of my sight, I never wish to lay eyes on you again.”

Me: “Suits me. Any chance I can keep the body till the morning though?”

Devil: “GET OUT!!”

I figure my svelte figure could disappear at any second, so I decide to make as much as I can of the little time I have left and head to my local pub ‘The Pearly Gates’. Peter my favourite barman is on and after greeting me with a smile he pushes a pint of water across the bar to me.

Peter: “Busy day huh?”

Me: “Sure was. Is the boss happy?”

Peter: “Delighted, he’s been after those two for a while, however he did mention the fact that you deviated from the original plan and added in an extra assassination. There were only meant to be two.”

Me: “Yeah I know,”

Peter: “So enlighten me. The first two I can understand, but the third one has left me a little confused as well.”

Me: (shrugs shoulders) It was just for fun, and pretty simple really, the devil wears Prada.

 

 

Something you want to know?

Questions

While writing a post a while ago, who knows which one, I made a comment about being able to get to know people just by what they write on their blog. By picking up all the little snippits of information we are able to build a picture, whether it be the right one or the wrong one. At that time I realised that I don’t share an awful lot of information about myself, well certainly not that I am aware of. There are certain aspects of my life that I will always keep secret, like the village in which I live for example, I already have one someone who follows me around the house, I certainly don’t need anyone else, besides my farts stink, you’d have to be extremely brave.

That’s just one example, but obviously there are things that none of us would want to share in a public forum, I’m not exciting enough to have secrets, lies or hidden video tapes…mores the pity. That said, there may be things you are curious about and always wanted to ask but didn’t like to. There may also be nothing and I am more of an open book than I think I am.

I mulled over this idea for a while and mentioned it to a couple of other people, and while having a commenting conversation last night with Michael from Morpethroad he reminded me of it again when he told me he had learned something new about me. So with that in mind, I’m going to give you the opportunity to ask me any question you like, within reason of course, and bearing in mind some of my family members read this.

Was there something you were curious about? Something random you want to know? Well then now is a good opportunity to ask. I’m not sure whether to answer in the comments or make a post of the replies, I guess it depends how many people are nosey….erm  of course I meant curious. It’ll probably be the comments.

Over to you…..if you can be arsed.

~~

Ralph – If you are reading this, I am stepping away from my duties as an international women of mystery for one day. Still no photo though, unless you follow me on Facebook :)

Success – I’ve scheduled this post, so if you’re reading this I did it correctly! Woohoo the Eejit learns new tricks!

Michael – Until the time of writing this post I believed your blog was called Morph the Road, what an eejit eh, apparently my eyes and brain do not work in harmony. Doh!!

Perhaps I tempted fate!

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The worst thing about writing about a fictional character, is where it crosses over into real life. I tempted fate with my story of May and her New Year flu, and now find myself surrounded by used tissues with snotters tripping me. Woe is me. I was even in bed at 11.30 last night, that’s sacrilege. Scarier still was that I was holed up with my Bugs Bunny hot water bottle.

How do I know I have Man flu and not just a normal one I hear you ask, and that is a very good question, for which I have a very good answer. My Xbox One arrived on Friday and it was Sunday before I even managed to get it all put together and into place. I’ve played it once, see, that’s how sick I am!

The only good thing about being in work and being sick is that people generally tend to leave you alone. A few coughs and sneezes had people creeping past my door like it was a contamination area, I mean they don’t even do that when I fart ffs! That said its a useful tool and one I shall remember on days when I cannot be arsed. Say, achooo! followed by whoops must be coming down with something, and watch them all scatter.

I’ve been told to drink plenty of fluids and being the good girl I am (what you smirking at), I generally do what I am told. The slight problem with sneezing and a full bladder is that you have to remember to cross your legs, men you just so won’t get that. It’s actually really hard to sneeze, hold up a tissue, catch snot and remember to cross your legs. Somethings gotta give. Note to self, invest in Tena ladies perhaps for the remainder of this week!

I’m hoping to be better by Thursday, as there is a trip to the cinema planned to see ‘Into the Woods’. Apart from Maleficent, this was the only other film I got even mildly excited about in 2014, just ignore the fact it was not released until 2015. Maleficent, while pretty amazing, was not as stunning as I had thought. I hope the same cannot be said for the one to be viewed on Thursday.

My drive to quit smoking it not going too bad, even though I had used Christmas money to put towards the Xbone, I figured that I can’t have everything so in order to finance the rest of it, it’s time to try and quit. The fact that I have a cold is certainly helping. If I want one I will have one, because denying myself just makes it worse, however, having one reminds me that I don’t actually really enjoy them all that much anyway. I’m not making any firm promises, but I’m certainly up for trying! Total count since Saturday is 3.

I’d been trying to keep up with my reading and since the start of the New Year I had been doing not too bad, this week though, whenever I move myself into a horizontal position and make myself comfortable I tend to fall asleep. Between that and stinging eyes, reading anything has been a bit of a task. That said, I wondered why I was squinting at the screen just now and realised it was because I need to clean 3 days of snot off the lens of my spectaculars, so that’s just what I better do.

Till next time Eejits!

P.s May never did bring me my Chicken soup ffs, she went up to the bus stop and hasn’t been seen since!

I found a fountain pen!

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Image by Herrfous

 

It was buried at the bottom of an old pencil case, dry as a bone and with spots of rust starting to take form on the nib. I cleaned it and changed the cartridge, but it still runs dry. It’s been neglected for too long.

I used to love writing, little notes, poems, scribblings in a jotter. It was what I wanted to do, although I was a realist and knew for certain it would never be my fortune. I was never without a notebook for any length of time, sadly not always the same one, meaning I sometimes created mash ups without even trying.

I cringe now when I read back over some of the things I wrote, all that teenage angst flowing through my body and out the nib of a pen, worse still was I was in my twenties! Teenage angst didn’t happen in the back of beyond, there were only hay bales, tractors and young farmers who allegedly did it in wellies. It was only when I moved to the big smoke that I discovered this inner me and my love for the written word.

Seriously, if you don’t believe me when I tell you how bad they were then let me prove it to you:

Be Funny

They say be funny,
I don’t feel like being funny!

I make faces in the mirror,
but that just makes me sad,
I notice yet another spot,
so now I’m feeling mad.
My Mum shouts “Dinners ready now”
perhaps things aren’t so bad,
I  go downstairs and stuff my face,
at last I’m feeling glad.

That said, reading back over them now I can remember both the situation and my feelings at the time, albeit in most cases now my heart is no longer breaking….yup…love was a recurring theme, that and loneliness.

Single Sided Love

I know she loves you.
I can see it in her eyes.
She wants to end your sentences,
but cannot find the words.
She holds you tight,
like if she lets you go,
she’ll loose you forever.
Yes,
she definitely loves you,
but you offer nothing in return.

It’s funny, when you’re younger, actually, any age, when you fall out of love you feel your heart will never mend, especially if you were not the one to actually fall out of it in the first place. You swear you’ll never do it again, and relationships become a taboo subject.

The Burden

I’ll walk up and down the street,
and they’ll say to me,
“What is it that you are carrying in that plastic bag,
that looks so heavy?”
And I’ll say
“My Heart”

Time however is a good healer and with time you become a little more comfortable and sure about your new status. I say a little, because there is always room for improvement.

Part-Time Lonely Heart

I tell everyone I am fine,
happy to be on my own.
But am I?
Sometimes yes,
sometimes no.
A part-time lonely heart.

Eventually you’ll realise there is life after love and that actually despite what you thought for the last three months the world did manage to keep on spinning. Time to get your shit together.

Tomorrow

Tomorrow,
when day breaks,
and the sun again resides in her palace,
the birds will sing,
and rejoice,
for a new day will have begun.

Written for todays Daily Prompt from the diaries of my twenty something self. There really never was much hope for me was there :)

S’not the New Year I hoped for!

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I know you’ve all been waiting patiently to hear about my great misadventures over the New Year period. You were imagining all sorts I’ll bet, the Wicky Digit full to the rafters, firemen actually getting their kit off and Onda grabbing a sneaky snog off Knuckles as the clock struck midnight while I screamed at the top of my voice…..Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz! Wait what!? Yes you heard right, the only sound to escape my lips was most likely a wee snore or two, because I slept through the whole fecking thing.

It all started on Boxing day, and at first I blamed the Brussel sprouts, the usual cause of trouser trumps of such magnitude, but then I remembered I hadn’t actually had any, so there was clearly something more sinister going on. The Usain Bolt sprints for the bathroom followed a short time later along with that age old dilemma, can you reach the sink, when you’re shitting sitting on the toilet, thankfully in my case, yes, yes you can. Blessed relief.

I made it back to the sofa with only minutes to spare, so close to deaths door was I. Me!? A Drama Queen!? Never!

Onda came to visit me and brought tissues and oranges….Terry’s Chocolate Oranges. I tried to point out that not even a Dyson was going to be able to suck Vitamen C out of that bad boy, but it just wasn’t sinking in.

Me: Onda, I’m not long for this world. I think I’ve got Man Flu.

Onda: S’not.

Me: No seriously I think it is, I’m more sick than a big sick thing schooled at the school of sickness.

Onda: S’not (more high pitched this time).

Me: It feckin is!

Onda: No! Snot, wipe your nose you dirty clart, it’s dripping on the carpet.

There was very little sympathy after that, and according to Onda, who it would appear is a bit of a drama queen herself, what came out my nose was worthy of a scene from the Exorcist. As the saying here goes, the snotters were tripping me.

I’d been so looking forward to the New Year, I had every intention of starting it off with a bang, assuming I was able to lure someone back to my humble abode that is, but all I got was a crick in my neck from sleeping at an awkward angle on the sofa all night. I didn’t even realise it was New Years Day until I heard my next door neighbours in the back garden belting out Horse it into ya Cynthia by Farmer Dan, a sure fire sign that the night before has been a resounding success.

So there you have it, I May Dupp was a New Year failure. Let’s hope for a little more excitement in 2015 eh!

 

May-ry Christmas!

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I thought it only polite that I least stop by and say Merry Christmas to you all. I hope however that you don’t mind if I say it very quietly, I did my own version of Scrooge last night and got visited by some Christmas spirits, only mine came in a bottle and manifested into a shot glass.

Dear goodness, I’ve just looked in the mirror and it’s not a pretty sight. I wonder how poor Onda is, last I saw she was boots up under one of the tables in the Wicky Digit and Knuckles was trying to drag her home by her tights.

It’s been a very entertaining year here at the Misadventures of May Dupp and here’s hoping for more shenanigans in 2015! Thank you all for being a part of it.

If you need me, I’ll be over here on the sofa with these two headache tablets and my good friend Mr Hangover.

Have a lovely Christmas one and all :)

A tale of two titties!

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Today I had to set off for work a little earlier than usual, and believe me, I am not a morning person. It takes a lot of time to look as presentable as I do. All those magazine types who spout about effortless beauty have clearly never had to do their own hair and make up! As a result, I was later leaving the house than I should have been, no time even for a shot of coffee, which is never a good thing.

After locking my door I turned around to find a man wearing a trench coat and trilby leaning on my fence. Now that’s not something you see everyday, considering we are no longer in the 1940’s. What was more alarming however was the fact that there was a rather large and expensive camera hanging from his neck, sporting a zoom lens.

Man: Good morning Miss. You have Great Tits.

Pardon me

Man: You have Great Tits.

Dude!!!! WTF?? (I have been watching way to many american TV shows)

My hands at this point moved protectively over my girlie bits as I shot him a look that would wither stone.

Man: In your garden. You have Great Tits in your garden.

You have to remember, that at this stage I was still suffering from morning brain. It takes a little while for all the synapses to start firing, even longer when they have not had an injection of caffeine.  So I’m standing there wracking my brains trying to think of the last time I had my baps out in the back garden and there is not one time that I can recall, unless we’re referring to a different kind of bap and there was a burger between them.

Man: Would you mind if I took a picture?

Of my Great Tits? Don’t you think that’s a little cheeky?

Man: Well it is rare to see such amazing specimens.

This is getting a little ridiculous now, I mean who does this man think he is.

Where or how the feck did you see them?

Man: On the table.

The table….you saw my tits on the table, are you off your head. 

Man: Yes, I saw them on the table, the bird table.

You saw my tits on the…wait, what, the…ohhhh….the…bird…table. 

Suddenly as if the sun had come out I was finally able to see where he was pointing, and sure enough it was at the bird table on which two little feathered things were sitting.

Ohhhh, you mean those ti……..birds? Yes take as many pictures as you like. 

Heaving a sigh of relief I finally lowered my hands.

The moral of this story….always leave enough time to have a cup of coffee, unless that is, you want to make a Great Tit of yourself!

Two tits, a Duck and a Dartboard!

Boiling PointYesterday! It was like any normal Tuesday, except I felt the need to repeatedly bang my head against the table. Back to back meetings had me climbing the walls by around 11am and there I stayed for pretty much the rest of the day.

Came home. It was like any other Tuesday only I felt the need to bang my head repeatedly against any solid surface. I actually felt like going and sitting in the garden shed for an hour just to get some peace and quiet, only it was fecking freezing and there is every possibly there are mice in there, so yeah…..feck dat!

I didn’t have high hopes for Wednesday, but as hump days go, it was slightly unshittier than the others. I came home to the most amazing little parcel from Mental Mama over at Mental in the Midwest full of lots of little goodies like a candle in a holder, earrings, a phone charm, chocolate and a beautiful little snowflake for the Christmas tree. Each little piece was handmade by the lady herself, which makes it all the more special. I was grinning like a Cheshire cat!

Then later when I was trying to find a post on my blog I realised that I have reached 700 followers, well on the front page anyway. Have you any idea how momentous that is? Probably not, but trust me, it’s Mo fecking Mentous! Who’d have thought eh, certainly not me.

You know I have said it before and I have no doubt I will say it a million more times, but blogging has meant an awful lot to me. By far and away, the best bit is the interaction with other people. Think about it, you have a problem, you Google it. Bloggers have a problem, we write about it, because there is almost always someone within your circle of followers who has experienced something similar and has words of wisdom to offer. Trust me consider bloggling it next time.

I’ve read blog posts in relation to other people who are in a similar situation to myself with regards to looking after someone with Dementia. It’s opened my eyes, because I now realise there are certain traits that are related to the illness and not the individual person. It nice to realise you’re not alone, because as much as people want to understand, they can’t, unless they are living in the same situation day in and day out.

It’s amazing how you can form connections with people you have never met, through this one common bond that we have called blogging. I have been so lucky with the people who have found me and visa versa. Each and every person is unique and amazing and really rather awesome if the truth be told. I love you all.

If you have made it to the end of my post then thank you very much, and I have no doubt you are wondering as to why the title is what it is. Well in the middle of writing this there was some social interaction with a certain Mr Smith. I joked that this was the title of the post I was writing and I kinda liked it, so now it is :) Hopefully it grabbed you attention!

Night night now :) x

Burning ring of fire!

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I would love to tell you that my life has been wonderful since the last time I wrote just a little over a week ago. The truth is I have spent it sitting in a rubber ring whilst nursing burnt butt cheeks. Trust me to pick the only killer electric blanket in the whole wide world!

Ok, so perhaps I am being a little too dramatic, but that is after all what I am good at. I thought I misheard my teacher when she said I would pass a degree in Histrionics without even having to study, I couldn’t even remember signing up for it. Regardless, back to my arse.

I never was the kind of girl to read instructions. If my brain was not able to figure it out then the batting of eyelashes was always able to acquire assistance from somewhere. This time however owning to the fact that the offending piece of gadgetry was in my boudoir, I thought it best to let the brain figure it out all on it’s own, and considering the instructions had already been binned, what choice did I have.

You may remember I had set the blanket to activate 30 minutes before I went to bed, which may well have been part of the problem as Onda decided to ring me with about 5 minutes left to spare. Now I love that girl to death, but once you get her Onda phone, it’s pretty damn hard to get her off it again, especially when you’ve had a weekend like she’s just had, but that’s a whole other story. To be fair to her, it was a rather interesting tale and I forgot all about the fact that it was now way past my bedtime.

1 hour and 57 minutes later (not that I was counting), I managed to make it to the bathroom to complete the necessities. Had I realised at the time that it was the last time I would have normal bare (bum) necessities for a least a week, I would have savored the moment. I vaguely remember thinking when I went into my room that my mad cow pyjama’s were nice and toasty, but as I had forgotten all about the electric blanket I didn’t put two and two together. Instead, I checked my alarm was set, collapsed into bed and went out like a light.

Sometime in the middle of the night I dreamt about the firemen from that Wicked Weekend at The Wicky Digit. Before I knew what was happening I could hear the Nelly song ‘It’s getting hot in here…’ playing in the background,  and the fireman was starting to strip. In my sleep I’m thinking, please don’t wake up, but somewhere in my sub conscious, I’m thinking WTF,  it is getting hot in here. I’ve never had a hot flush before, but I’m smart enough to know that it doesn’t normally happen in your backside, so I leapt out of the bed like a scalded cat. Just in time too it would seem, as smoke started to appear from the middle of the bed. I’d like to say I was the one causing all the sparks in the bedroom, but alas no, it was the electric fecking blanket.

Needless to say I dialed ‘999’ and called for the very same firemen I was dreaming about not 5 minutes ago. They arrived not too long after and I led them up the stairs as quickly as I could, thankfully there were still no flames. I could hear giggles behind me, but figured that some of them were remembering the antics from the previous night we had met. Last up the stairs was the big fire Chief, who looked me up and down while walking past and said ‘Holy Cow’. ‘I know’ says I, ‘it’s made a bit of a mess of me bedroom’. He replied that it had indeed, but he was in fact referring to the huge hole that had been burnt in the backside of my pyjama’s exposing my red raw and rather well toasted butt cheeks. Well at least I knew what the giggling had been when we were coming up the stairs. I’m not sure which set of cheeks were reddest at that point.

I sat on a rubber ring stuffed with ice packs for about 5 days after that, and had to drag Billy and Seamus out of the pub to assist with the redecoration of my bedroom. The electric blanket has been relegated to the wheelie bin and from now on I am going to stick to a good old fashioned hot water bottle, I figure it’s the safest option. The firemen were even kind enough to send me a card, that said ‘It’s a BUMmer You’re not well!’

I think I can live without things getting too hot in my bedroom from now on!

By heart….

Singing Eejit

The Daily Prompt asks:

You’re asked to recite a poem (or song lyrics) from memory — what’s the first one that comes to mind? Does it have a special meaning, or is there another reason it has stayed, intact, in your mind?

‘More than words’ by Extreme, that’s the one that springs to my mind. Released in 1990 I believe, it was once of the most played songs on the radio when I started my first year of work in 1991. I knew it off by heart, crooning or was that caterwauling along in front of the mirror, a hair brush for a microphone.

If you’re a regular follower of my blog you will know I used to write a piece called ‘The Office Eejits’, you think they were bad, they are nothing compared to the original crew. One guy, let’s for talk sake call him Bart, because that’s what he was like, an adult Bart Simpson,  and I got on famously and every morning around tea break we used to enter all the competitions on a particular radio station.  Well Bart and I had every version of Car stickers, pin badges, pens and pencils that the radio station had to offer. We were even told on more than one occasion that we were not allowed to enter as we were winning too much.

This particular week they were giving away tickets to see Extreme live in Belfast. I wanted those tickets…I wanted them bad. In the morning competition Bart managed to get through and after being asked a question, which to be fair wasn’t that difficult, won a set of the tickets. I was so jealous, but resigned myself to the fact I would have to wait until the next day. As luck would have it, we (Bart and I) were working late that night and another chance came up, and I was on it like a car bonnet!

Waiting to get through to a radio station, hosting a competition for something you really want has to be the most nerve wracking experiences ever. Bart sitting across the office from me was urging me to hang on and eventually the phone was answered, to be honest now I can’t remember who by, but I was getting my chance at tickets. All set and ready to answer my question I prepared myself, I could do this! When the DJ told me that in order to win tickets I would have to sing the first verse of the song, I almost died on the spot. Sing…..live……on……the…..radio……..WTF!!!

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Dude…seriously, you want me to sing?

I was so dumbstruck at his request that I forgot the words. I could sing this song in my sleep yet here I was live on the radio with no memory of the tune, the words or even the time of fecking day. My face must have been a picture!

I think I mumbled that I couldn’t remember it,  despite the fact that  2 minutes before when he had asked me I’d told him I lovvvvvvvvved Extreme and knew the song off by heart. I think he helped me with the first couple of words and off I went, somehow managing to belt the rest out, albeit not with the same gusto that I would have in front of my bedroom mirror. I won the tickets, there was much elation, on my part anyway. Bart, well, when I finally managed to look over at him, all I saw was his two feet sticking up behind the desk, he had literally fallen off his chair laughing.

So ummmm yeah, that’s the first one that comes to my mind :)