If you’ve read my blog before now, you’ll find that the one thing that is contant throughout is the fact that I seem to think it’s funny to take the piss out of people. And believe me, people message me saying that they want to hurt me in the joy department because of a few lines I’ve written about them.
Considering that this blog is going to be about my best friend, you’d maybe think that this one would be different. Well, to set the mood, I’ll start with a simple line.
Chopper is so far in the closet, not only is he in Narnia, but he’s probably rimming Aslan.
There, mood set.
You see, people I have written about before have been friends. The fundamental mistake made is the fact that he’s my best friend. This means that I can rape him with words, although, he’s probably going to like it, beg for more, and then end up on the street selling his body for food vouchers or something.
So let’s begin. Let’s start with that nickname. Chopper.
In the Urban Dictionary, ‘Chopper’ is desribed as ‘British slang for a man's tummy banana’. Now, ‘tummy banana’ is a new one to me, however, I shall certainly try to fit it in while talking to clients at work. It actually came from his uncanny ability to play drums on a chopping board, however, we used to tell people that he killed an indiscriminate number of men (usually 16 or 17) in certain ways that screamed of homosexuality. It was usually down to a sexually charged choking, or something along those lines, but still Chopper never really caught on to what we were doing. The funniest thing about it is that there are people today who only know him as Chopper, and have no idea what his real name is. Oh, and the fact that his mum calls him Chopper as well. So there we go ‘Mr Tummy Banana’, your mum calls you a penis. According to the Urban Dictionary anyway.
I feel this is going well……
This is quoted whilst playing Mortal Kombat 2011 with our friend Kieran.
“I’ll check it when I get home, but last time I checked, I was Number 1 in the Midlands for Mortal Kombat”
Bullshit.
When Chopper’s breath doesn’t smell like cock, it smells like bullshit. He does this all the time, to the point where I’ve taken to shouting ‘BULLSHIT’ at him whenever I suspect him of exaggerating a story. As far as I’m aware, he’s very nearly a trained rally driver. And after that brief and heated one night stand, he’s still ignoring Britney Spears’ calls. I bet she must really like bananas.
And so, I come to conclude this hurling of abuse at one of the people who have stood by me all these years, with his biggest flaw.
Women.
Chopper has absolute horrible luck in women. Or horrible taste depending on how well you know him. As long as I’ve known him (3 or 4 years) he’s had 2 girlfriends. Let’s say 3 girlfriends. You’ll see why in a second.
Firstly there was Sarah. A small quiet mouse of a girl who was as interesting as a paper sandwich. Seriously, this girl could remain dead-faced through a fucking holocaust. She had the same emotion as a guppey. Chopper, at the time was beside himself with her. I think because I was the first sex he’d had in a long time, and I guess that ever sex with a cardboard box was better than no sex.
Second, there was Leafy. Wow. Just wow. I imagine that a lonely hearts ad for her would read like this:
Female (roughly) WLTM male
for good times and occasional
sacrificial ceremonies. Must be
able to take a good punch.
GSOH essential.
She was a very good match to Chopper. In the same way that chips are a good match for putting tic-tacs up your bum. She would moan about absolutely everything. Life wasn’t great, her job was unfair, the sky was the wrong colour, Chopper slept with men, her fists hurt after a long day of punching people for no reason, etc, etc. Then she decided that words just weren’t enough and started to hit Chopper. So he left. And boy, did she moan about that……..
And so, we come to the third woman in Chopper’s life, his Mum.
Now the usual thing to do here in spectacular fashion is to insert a Mum joke. Er, not this time. I have to be careful what I say here, because she’ll hurt me. His Mum still has an air of seeing Chopper as a small boy. To explain this well, here’s an example. Chopper is 22 and is in a band. This means that very often gigs will go on past midnight. I can gaurantee that when this happens, she’ll be on the phone to him, telling him to get home. It’s like he’s 12 and has a curfew. Now fair point, he still lives with his parents, which dare I say it, I wish I did at times, but a 22 year old male needs a level of privacy and freedom that you don’t when you’re 12. You know, because you masturbate a lot more when you’re single and 22, and that’s a little bit of a risky mission when you share a bedroom with your younger brother.
Now as ever, please, please, please don’t take this as a belittling session to anyone. Chopper is a fantastic, dear and annoying friend of mine who has stuck by me for years, and I respect and love him no matter what his situation is with women or at home.
He’s still a complete twat though. He once out-gayyed a gay guy at gay chicken. And that’s a lot of gay.
And he’s got an iPhone. ‘Nuff said.
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