Memory lane - My brother’s mates
A little while ago I posted a blog on Billy Idol, where I mentioned the quality of mates my older brother had growing up, and I think this needs some elaboration. As any teenage girl with an older brother would expect, big bros mates should be the first opportunity for cherry popping right? Sadly not for me.
I remember two of them, Malcolm and his brother, who used to come over and hang out all the time. A various assortment of others would come by, but these two made up the main posse and they were the ones who we think stole Mum’s engagement ring. You could always tell when they were in the house, because about 15 feet from the living room you would walk in to a wall of body odour so intense, it nearly made you puke.
All the lads would sit around on the lounge, smoking, eating and watching Chuck Norris-esque movies, talking bollocks, scratching their balls, farting and where they sat would stink for hours afterwards. Apart from being unwashed with greasy hair, they were also rather unattractive by my definition. I usually just got the hell out whenever they were around.
It’s important to note that my brother was never smelly, in fact he is almost obsessive with his cleanliness. If you walk towards Paul the chances are you’ll be swamped with French aftershave – Channel has been an enduring favourite. Paul has always had nose issues and thus, he can’t smell very well so he makes up for it with excessive aftershave use, but I’d always prefer that to bad body odour.
I could imagine Pauls’ mates bedrooms – unwashed sheets, jocks sticking to the walls, piles of leftover food, dirty washing, tissues dabbled around the room, black curtains, dim lighting, dust on every surface... you get the picture. You can almost smell it. YUK! I never understood how young guys could live this way, but they do.
I haven’t met Paul’s recent bunch of mates, but I don’t expect much improvement. The shit hit the fan a little while back when they robbed Mum’s house, called Mum and threatened to rape her (nice huh?), and hung around threatening both of them, making general pains in the arse of themselves. The cops got involved and I’m still not sure what it was all about or if anything legal ever happened to these guys. I think there was a sexual misdemeanour that finally put one in a cage. Oh the quality.
I don’t know why Paul attracts such useless twats into his life, but he certainly has a gift for it. I often wonder how many of his past friends have spent time in jail – because it certainly has to be the majority.
He’s an interesting fella my big brother Paul and he’s got a heart of gold. Most don’t get him, many deride him, but his heart is usually in the right place and that’s what’s important right? Hey he’s my brother and in a strange kind of way, he’s been a great and very interesting part of my life.
Yours, without the bollocks
Andrea
I remember two of them, Malcolm and his brother, who used to come over and hang out all the time. A various assortment of others would come by, but these two made up the main posse and they were the ones who we think stole Mum’s engagement ring. You could always tell when they were in the house, because about 15 feet from the living room you would walk in to a wall of body odour so intense, it nearly made you puke.
All the lads would sit around on the lounge, smoking, eating and watching Chuck Norris-esque movies, talking bollocks, scratching their balls, farting and where they sat would stink for hours afterwards. Apart from being unwashed with greasy hair, they were also rather unattractive by my definition. I usually just got the hell out whenever they were around.
It’s important to note that my brother was never smelly, in fact he is almost obsessive with his cleanliness. If you walk towards Paul the chances are you’ll be swamped with French aftershave – Channel has been an enduring favourite. Paul has always had nose issues and thus, he can’t smell very well so he makes up for it with excessive aftershave use, but I’d always prefer that to bad body odour.
I could imagine Pauls’ mates bedrooms – unwashed sheets, jocks sticking to the walls, piles of leftover food, dirty washing, tissues dabbled around the room, black curtains, dim lighting, dust on every surface... you get the picture. You can almost smell it. YUK! I never understood how young guys could live this way, but they do.
I haven’t met Paul’s recent bunch of mates, but I don’t expect much improvement. The shit hit the fan a little while back when they robbed Mum’s house, called Mum and threatened to rape her (nice huh?), and hung around threatening both of them, making general pains in the arse of themselves. The cops got involved and I’m still not sure what it was all about or if anything legal ever happened to these guys. I think there was a sexual misdemeanour that finally put one in a cage. Oh the quality.
I don’t know why Paul attracts such useless twats into his life, but he certainly has a gift for it. I often wonder how many of his past friends have spent time in jail – because it certainly has to be the majority.
He’s an interesting fella my big brother Paul and he’s got a heart of gold. Most don’t get him, many deride him, but his heart is usually in the right place and that’s what’s important right? Hey he’s my brother and in a strange kind of way, he’s been a great and very interesting part of my life.
Yours, without the bollocks
Andrea
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