Friday, June 03, 2005


Piss IV

Here's a hint, don't try gymnastics in the buff. Well, not unless you are considering a career in the adult film industry, then I suppose it's perfectly acceptable course of action. Try telling that to Phil. Listen carefully - Phil is Scary's Sister's Best Friend's Cousin. So we're talking close family, right?

Don't get me wrong about Phil, he's a pretty cool cucumber and there's nothing kinky about him if you draw that sort of conclusion about a youth who does gymnastic in the nude. He didn't make a habit of it, right? It was just the once, there was an absolutely iron-clad excuse for it, and it wasn't his fault he had that accident.

The Duck clan and the Sister'sBestFriend clan were particularly close, as a matter of fact, some thirty years later, sister and Sister'sBestFriend are still best friends, and it was only natural that we should be on reasonable-to-good terms with each other's extended families. In fact Duck Family Cousins were on impressively good terms with Sister'sBestFriend's cousins, which, if you haven't given up in utter confusion, shows the depth of the relationship.

Still here? Good. The manky bit's just coming up.

There was a huge clan get together, in the seaside paradise of Frinton-on-Sea, where you stand on the dank featureless beach in a town where fun is officially banned and people go to die. There was one amusement arcade, the machines only recently converted to accept decimal currency. If you're holidaying in this kind of place, I suppose meeting me would be deemed some sort of exciting event.

The families flew together like that propaganda film of the Russian armies meeting at Stalingrad. There was, for the adults, drink and merriment and a daring road-trip up the road to Clacton for the nearest Fish and Chips. For us kids, just merriment, all in the comfort of a rented holiday home. No expense spared, y'know.

Such was the excitement engendered by a large group of seven-twelve year-olds getting together for a large family and friends bash, young Phil started doing his gymnastics party piece. He started in his swimming trunks, and for reasons which have unfortunately escaped me (but may have been something to do with a play we were rehearsing for the grown ups), he was soon fully birthday suited and tumbling all over the kids' bedroom.

And what do over-excited lads on a diet of fizzy pop do? They piss themselves. And what do over-excited naked gymnasts on a diet of fizzy pop do? They piss themselves when they're upside down. In fact, he was in the middle of some forward roll-cum handstand mixed with a blood-curdling scream.

Now you come to mention it, his scream comprised the words "Aaaargh! I've piddled in me mouth!", and you had to admit, that was a pretty impressive feat.

It is the kind of thing you're sworn to secrecy over. Never tell a soul. Cross your heart. Never eat apple pie. Nothing happened in Frinton. Nada.

And there, all was forgotten.

Five years later, the Sister'sBestFriendsCousin family moved to our neck of the woods, and there was much rejoicing.

Phil was put into my class at school and it was pleasure to introduce him to friends, teachers, and girls easily impressed by his tanned good looks and rugby-honed physique. God, he was one popular fella. The bastard.

I swear on my dog's life it was nothing to do with me. I had sworn a solemn vow.

"Alright Phil," said Gaz, "You're the one who drinks piss, aren't you?"

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