Webs and Wet Legs

The rambling stuff and nonsense that I write on here have no chronological order but are memories that I record as they come to me. Seeing as a few of you liked my posts about when I was at university and you seem to get a perverse pleasure from reading about pranks I’ve pulled I shall take you back to my first year before I moved in with Matt, Kate and Jo.

If we had no money for beer we would sit in the kitchen of one of the flats in our Halls of Residence and play cards around the table, just chatting and having a laugh. One of my pals, Doddie, was complaining this one night about one of his flatmates, I’ll give you the toned down version of the conversation because I try to avoid bad language on my blog: “He really pisses me off (oops), every morning he wakes up at seven and walks around whistling.”

“What tune?” Derek asked, really not helping.

“That’s the point”, he said through gritted teeth, ”there is no f****** tune, he just makes noise for the sake of it.”

“You wanna fix him?” I asked with a glint in my eye.

I told the others about an old priest in our parish back home, a guy in his late seventies, Father Joe. A young priest called Father Kevin used to play him up a bit. One of the tricks he used to do was to cover the toilet in cellophane and put the seat down over it. Poor old Father Joe would get wet legs when he went to the toilet because it would just bounce back at him. Hardly an ecumenical practice but funny all the same. “If you do it properly then when they lift the seat to have a slash they won’t even notice.”

It was agreed then. We stole the roll of cellophane from my flatmate’s cupboard and went up to Doddies flat where we knew this fella would be asleep and covered the toilet making sure there were no visible creases.

We went back down stairs laughing; I wasn’t finished though. After liberating some sticky tape from someone’s room we went down to the foyer and started creating a sellotape spider’s web across the frame of the entrance to another flat. When we were satisfied with that we set off the fire alarm which meant that everyone would rush out to meet outside. The door flew open and this girl, still half asleep and in her pyjamas, ran straight into the web, getting covered in sticky tape and squealing as she tried to fight her way out of it. When the Hall Warden came round to check that the alarm wasn’t just burnt toast before calling the fire brigade, we were rolling about on the floor laughing while she was rolling about trying to get disentangled.

The following morning Doddie came and woke me up to tell me about what had occured with his annoying flatmate. I had actually forgotten about that following the success of the sellotape spider’s web. This was his account:

“Seven O’Clock this morning he woke me up as usual with his stupid whistling, I heard him whistle from his room, whistle down the corridor and whistle into the bathroom; then, suddenly the whistling stopped! Five minutes later I heard the washing machine go on…!”

Yes!!!! God bless you Father Kevin.

 

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