How it came to be that my dad is a hero. A not funny story.

My mum and dad go camping a fair bit. They always have. I have been all over the country on walking holidays. When i became a teenager i hated it of course bu i came back to the wild desolation of the hills my father walked before me. Cool.


When I was doing my PhD I was plane old mister scum, and my mam and dad went camping at clumber park. Some months before, getting on a year or so i think, there had been the most appalling sexual assault on a young girl in the toilets at the camp site. The poor girl nearly bled to death I was told. Anyway, for months after that, all the women and kids in the neighbourhood were chaperoned by male relatives and work mates. (we'll come back to this bit). It was similar when i was a kid and the ripper was busy.

After some months the cops nicked some lorry driver for it who was remanded in custody and i understand he had a very nasty time of it in chokey. And you may think this is no bad thing eh?

About a yearish after the original attack, my mam and dad were on holiday. They went to take the dogs for a walk one evening and there were people running about on the campsite shouting a male name. It turned out a young boy of nineish had gone missing. My mum and dad joined in the search. They walked offdown a road in the park and found a car that had driven off the road and there was a young bloke in it revving it trying to make it go some. They stopped to see what was going on and the young bloke was clearly in shock. My dad looked under the car and saw that the car had gone over a substatial fence post that had ripped out the drive shaft (or something fatal for the car anyway). My old man told the bloke to come back to the campsite and get sorted out, and he agreed. He got out the car and my parents saw he was wearing dungarees, open to the waist and with blood on them. They assumed he was bleeding but they couldn't seewhere from.

As my mam and dad were talking to this chap, the dogs went off in the trees and started barking at something. Good dogs. My mum went to investigate and found a young boy hiding in the undergrowth. He was obviously terrified and not in a good way. She picked him up in her arms and carried him back to the road.

They set off back to the campsite and my dad made the bloke walk in front of them so he could keep an eye on him. Mam carried the distraught boy and talked to him, finding out that the guy had kidnapped him and while trying to get away the boy had caused the car to crash. Brave. My mam put it all together and was flaring up, but my dad kept everything calm enough till they got back to the camp and could get the police in.

When the got back it took four blokes to keep the father off the bastard who raped his son.

Eventually, the lorry driver was released.

The young bloke went away for ever.


Turns out he had been working at a hotel / restaurant nearby and was one of the designated chaperones during the months after the first attack.

How it came to be i got shot

When i was about 9 years old my brother and i went out to play one monday night late in the summer holidays. My brother must have been eleven. There is a park behind my mum and dads place but back in 1979 it was the school fields. They were pretty big with two football pitches a cricket pitch and loads of trees and rough ground. Top quality playground. We met an older lad of about 15 who lived at the end of our road. He had his air rifle with him, a .22 sometrhing or other. My brother asked if he could have a go with it and the kid let him. ~My brother shot a tree, reloaded and immediately took a sight on me. Initially i ran. But then., realising that i probably couldn't outrun a bullet i turned and charged him with the intention of punching his teeth out of his arsehole. The redmist descended. At about ten paces he fired and i felt a punch in the stomach. I looked down and saw a tiny hole in my green hoody top. I lifted it up and saw that i had another hole in my brown terry tee shirt. I lifted that up to reveal a perfectly circular hole in my stomach about three inches from my navel. A trickle of dark red blood was beading down my stomach into my underpants. I was scared. I stumbled home in a daze clutching my tee shirt to my chest watching my pants and trousers get stickier with blood.

Between the shooting and getting home we cooked up some story about being shot by some stranger so that my brother would not get in trouble. When we got home i got done off my mum and dad cos they were supposed to be having a night out and didn't fancy the night in the hospital. Naturally enough the police were called and a huge search went on. IT was in the papers and everything. Afer three days i admitted that we made it up, and from then on i was kindly picked out by the parents of other kids at school as a liar. Little kids would come up to me with newspaper cuttings their mothers had kept and say, "my mum says you're a liar".

And of course. They were right weren't they?


My brother hated me cos i grassed him up. God! he really hated me.

BOLLOCKS

You heard. I am depressed. Quite cheesed off really. On saturday i got a letter off the andrology department telling me that they did not want my love batter donations. I am sad. The reason given was that i have donated previously.


I am assuming that i have fulfilled my quota of successful pregnancies from my previous emissions. So they won't have any more from me. The thing is, I can't quite remember the quota. I need to ring up and find out. I am currently working on the vague recollection that the quota is set at TEN.


TEN


10



10 kids. Blimey!


Christ on the proverbial bike! All horrible like me. Poor little buggers.

How it came to be that my freindship with Matt the moose sort of drifted apart

When i was doing my A levels i made some freinds. One of whom is my mate Dave with the big chopper. My other mate horse i knew from school. I made a freind called matt at college where i did my a levels. The school i went to was shite and shut after i left. One of my teachers tried to get me to stay on in the sixth form at the rival school. Thornbridge comprehensive. No fucking thankyou! I went to richmond college and it was ace.

Really good teachers there. I digress.....

There was this guy called matt and his mum was the librarian. Quiet types those librarians.

Matt came to a bit of a lash up at my mum and dads house and my brother put some pornographic videos on. They weren't very nice. Anyway. My mate horse needed a piss so he was waiting while matt came back cos matt was upstairs. He waited and waited. Eventually he went upstairs to find the lavatory empty and the light off. There was a light on in my mum and dads room though. So horse knocks on the door and says "matt? are you there?" which is followed by frantic scrabbling and hiding type noises. So Horse decides to investigate further and shoves his head round the dooor. Hiding behind the bed he sees young matt. He can see that he is on his knees and crouching down. He can see that he is almost naked too. Almost.



The only item he is wearing is a pair of red silk split crotch panties that belonged to my mummy.

"What are you doingt matt?" asks the horse.


"Being a moose" came rthe reply.


"I think you had better get dressed and come down stairs" sys horse.


"yes" says matt.


The horse then duly reported his findings to me and much merriment ensued. And i have never told anyone about it ever. Honest.

SPERM DONATION

Should i or shouldn't i? I am tempted to start donating my white wee wee to medical science again. I used to make regular deposits when i was a student but haven't done so forabout 13 years. There does seem to be a shortage of splanky sauce at the moment and the hospital over the road from me is desperately short apparanly.

I started to phone them earlier but i shat my pants and bottled out without saying anything. I have asked mrs scum help when i phone up and she backs me. She even says whe will give us a hand like.

The only problem is i won't be allowed to jisulate for 2-3 days before a donation. Not sure i can leave my little sausage alone for that long.



Also, I am thinking of putting my name to my earlier efforts. I can't really bear the thought of some poor kid wanting to know who supplied half their DNA and not being able to find me. Mind you, They'll be dissappointed won't they? I have no fear of them wanting cash of me as there isn't any. I have dragged myself up from nothing to a state of extreme poverty.

I love my whippet

I am a tyke so i love my whippet, Mr Oofy. This is me and him puckering up for a bit of interspecial french action:









and this is me and he going for it!

Kinder Scout

Glory to God.
top of grindsbrook. Start of cicuit after getting my sciatica under control. Grey wet miserable. Uytterly glorious.






And this is me later coming up on the mad womans stones after sweating too much and dehydrating resulting in a truly stunning head ache.

Amphibious love.

I thought i would put some pictures up of amphibian sex. If it gets a good reponse i will put some more up. After all, whatcould be more wonderful than lots of frogs and toads going at it furiously releasing their genetic packages near to one another? What could be more thrilling than the non penetrative love of toads?

Look at the little buggers going at it just there! Ooooooooh! it make me come over all jolly batey!

How it came to be that i started tasting pies

I love food right? Pies are great. Food is a great pleasure. Cooking a meal for the mrs in a flotd wino stylee is such a joy. I used to run a lot and was about 13.5 stone. About four years ago I ripped a large part of a tendon off my pelvis. The big one thats right in your groin next to your bollocks. Well, my bollocks obviously. Stopped running. Got fat. Started running after a year, got sciatica. Still got it. Last xmas i could walk five miles but suffered badly for it. In april i ran the sheffield 10K. It hurt.

Thats me at the back at the start. Note firemen in full gear gwho just overtook me. I am with my mate Horse.

Man or Troll. You decide.

The aftermath of that incident with kilroy.

You remember! The one where i squirted water at Kilroy and he LIED to the police and said that I had "smashed him over the head with a bottle".

Thats me in the back of the car laughing at the veritas goons. I'd have gotten away with it too if it hadn't been for those meddling geriatric fascists!

Look! It me and my daughter!

Thats me on the left. Heading up to Hollins cross with my eldest. We went up onto Mam Tor and it was fantastically windy. Ell lost her hat and it was last seen tumbling towards the landslip. I did not give chase as i was too scared. Ell cried a lot.





and at hollins cross. Hollins cross is the old funeral route between edale and castleton. Years ago there was no church in edale so you had to get buried in castleton. or so my dad tells me.

How it Came to be that i did spy The Beast of Bodmin part 3

The wind howled in from the sea and over the moors bringing torrents of abusive rain to dampen my already moistened spirits. I was alone on Bodmin moor. Just me and dogs, mr Poo and Oofy. After that i went home dead miserable like.

That night, i was in bed with the wifes sister, and sleep would not take me. I stood up and looked out the window at he storm that raged. Lighteneing flashed, thunder thundered and rain rained. The clouds raced over head as if driven by some great demon lashing it ever owards with a great whip of lighteneing but really it was just the wind that was coming in off the sea. I looked out at the moor and the tumultuous events in the sky and i thought to myself; "What is it all about like? What does it all mean?"


And then i realised "Its got bugger all to do with me!" And i went back to bed.

How it Came to be that i did spy The Beast of Bodmin part 2

We were there in our secluded cottage for a whole week on the edge of that damned moor. A week that I for one can never forget as it left its mark on my soul as if the prevaling precipitation had dribbled down the back of my shirt to the top of the crack in my arse before dribbling down said fetid canyon to create an ill feeling of moistness that seemed to mirror the mood of muyself my new wife and our daughter all cast hideously adrift and alone on the moor. Even the dog, mr poo was feeling out of sorts and wasn't so keen on getting the old lipstick out in front of the fire as is usually his want. And the dampness did pervade mr poo as well and he is well known for being a stranger to the bath and he did indeed begin to smell like a wet dog all lilke a subtle blend of urine, jism and sweat. I love mr poo i do. He is great.

By the end of the week we had just about had enough of the fucking weather and we were due to go home. It was saturday night and it was raining. I was largely miserable and slightly drunk. Nothoing could bring a smile to my countenance. I was despondant. I decided to take the dogs for a walk. In the rain. At night. On to that desolate blasted heath. Alone. but with the dogs like.



to be continued..........

How it Came to be that i did spy The Beast of Bodmin

Come with me dear reader on a journey into the darkest recesses of my mind and i wil tell thee a spine tingling tale of horror and excitement which involves the time I saw the biggest fuck off black cat i ever did see ever. Its true too.

Come with me now, take my trembling hand as i guide you through this tale of minor interest and vaguary. Is that a bead of sweat that just ran down your neck? Or is it something else? Is it from someone else? Dare you taste it to see?

I digress.........


It was back in 2003. It was October and my new wife and i partook of our honeymoon in a nice little cottage on the very edge of that blighted ruinous land they call by the name of Bodmin. Aye! tis a name of ill omen and dark black tales are told of its weird and fey nature.

We were alone and isolated. Though the landlady did live across the road with some chickens and some other farmery shite that looked pretty dangerous. It rained continually every day and every night. We were alone and marooned on the blasted desolate moors of Bodmin, with only our recently legitimised daughter for company. Mind you, once a bastard always a bastard as my mother says......................


(to be continued)

my very first vaccuous entry. Oh good. I am Doctor Scum and this is my blog. I would like to welcome all and sundry to my random jottings. Especially the sundry.

I would like to use this place to tell you all about the horrible things i like to do and at some point i will give a full listing of the public transport based game "Mister Touch".

I imagine i will not be going into my wifes sisters arse too much on here. Firm and round though it may be.

Ultimately i will have to put a section on about large black cats of course. On Bodmin Moor.