I am the Walrus

It is a univeral fact that nothing is funnier than a friend's drunken antics... unless you're somehow detrimentally affected by your (ex)friend's actions. This is the story of Seb.

Our then-new housemaster (I go to a boarding school) had decided to host a Christmas Dinner for all members of my house's sixth form in order to win our affection and discipleship. Upon initiation, he had belligerently left his mark on all aspects of our school life, like a dog urinating on every lampost on a street. I guess the dinner was to compensate for his needless, and often whimsicle, modifications. In any case, it was guaranteed to be a disaster the moment he decided to let us regulate our own alcohol consumption.

I was seated next to Seb (a rather eccentric friend with whom I've shared a love-hate relationship for years) and it wasn't long before he'd managed to hoover up all the available alcohol on the table. The evening may have still been uneventful, however, had he not also quaffed a whole bottle of port before the event. It was obvious from the off that Seb would make the night unforgettable.

Initially, it was hard to determine whether Seb was hyper or drunk. It began by him leaning over and sniffing (loudly) the rather attractive teacher next to him, it steadily progressed to him practically shouting to me about how "hot" and "fit" she was, it culminated in his sudden disappearance from the table. After ten minutes, I decided to track him down before he insisted on sniffing any innocent members of the public.

It wasn't difficult to track him down, he was confusedly ambling around the building whilst humming tunelessly to himself. My immediate instinct was to remove him from the vicinity of our Führer before he landed himself in any trouble. However Seb was seemingly determined to cause as much chaos as physically possible. In fact, his instantaneous reaction was to drop down to the floor, wallow and flap around on his face and shout out "I AM THE WALRUS". Unsurprisingly, this strange outburst attracted the attention of a nearby teacher. Sadly my first reaction was to tell him that we were playing charades, something not abetted by Seb's denial of this defence. However Seb decided this wasn't quite enough.

No, Seb wasn't quite pleased enough with himself until he'd managed to throw up a whole lump of chicken on our Führer's shoes and asked him to inflate his newly acquired blow-up girlfriend (which was duly confiscated). His mother was eventually called to pick what was left of him up.

How it made the journey twice is anyone's guess.

Valentine's Day

As promised, my blog is the most inconsistent pile of crap ever composed but I'm going to add another incoherent post nonetheless. Valentine's Day came and went, like it does every year, and just like every other year I decided to compile a load of piss-poor poetry for my dearest friends and parents. Just like every year, they dutifully gushed at my poetic distalents (you're right, that isn't a word) and I decided that some of it was worthy of a blogpost.

Things went off to a good start. I compiled the following piece of crap literary genius for my best friend in under five minutes (the time probably would've been spent more productively if I'd been doing the grammar exercise my Spanish teacher asked us to do) but write it I did:

 I wrote you a poem,

To show you I care,

It's no Wilfred Owen,

(So scoff if you dare).

You call me a skank,

I call you a poo,

We pretend to be frank,

But neither claim's true.

Sadly I like you,

You're a rather good mate,

But you belong in a zoo,

Behind a huge gate.

 I was so excited by my scribblings that I didn't even bother to give her a nice copy, so now she's forced to keep a piece of partially chewed paper in order to prove she loves me... Happy Valentine's Day "best friend". You can observe a hint of our abusive relationship in the second stanza, I'd like to believe the hostility was initiated by her but that would most probably be a lie.

Things started to get pretty desperate when a friend unexpectedly gave me the longest poem I have ever read. Feelings of guilt and panic immediately ensued. So much panic and thus swearing that the first stanza may seem somewhat familiar XD

It says : I penned you a poem,
To show you I care,
I'm no Wilfred Owen,
So scoff if you dare.

You're my amazing maths mate,
You're nice and you're kind,
You help me integrate,
When I'm confuzzled by 'sin'.

You're one over cos c,
You should get the joke,
Let's meet up for some tea,
Or maybe some coke.

In fact, I was so proud of my Wilfred Owen line that I even used it in my boyfriend's valentine : 

It says: We both hate the mush,
(The Valentine slush),
That dictates I write
A poem tonight.

So here is a poem,
(It's no Wilfred Owen),
You better enjoy it,
Although it's quite shit.

I love you like tea,
(You better love me),
Or I'll look somewhat silly,
Like a skirt round a willy.

I'm lucky to have you,
(Not a day do I rue),
I'll not carry on,
Or else you might vom.
Word.

I'm not sure what that's meant to mean either... His response was "That is the best poem I have ever seen. Word" so I count it as a success nonetheless...

I was on fire, nothing could stop my poetic spewings. The manic poetry culminated in compensation for some really shocking artwork for my parents:

I felt that the front of the card (having taken me an hour to create) was just so incomprehensibly rubbish that I had no choice but to write the following : 

It says: Dearest Parentals,
(Mummy and Dad),
I attempted a card,
But it looks pretty bad.

I used the wrong glue,
It got stuck to a box,
But you're both quite polite,
So just pretend that it rocks.

Valentine's Day,
It's all bother and faff,
And this stupid card,
Is really quite naff.

Know that I love you,
Know that I care,
Make fun of my art,
Go on, if you dare!

Disclaimer : I don't normally refer to my mother as mummy, I did it purely for the rhythm. (and this disclaimer is not here to preserve any of my non-existent street-cred...)