Your Friday WTF, 11/23/07

English kids getting high by huffing fumes from burning plastic trash bins.

Lucy in the sky with garbage!

24 Comments on “Your Friday WTF, 11/23/07”

  1. It never ceases to amaze me the way young people will find such creative ways to do such stupid things to themselves and yet won’t apply that same creativity to living.

  2. Nathan,

    They’re bins with wheels. What’s so inappropriate about calling them “wheelie-bins”?

    Two countries divided by a common language again …

  3. Bah. Copycats. They’ve been doing that in Rotherham in South Yorkshire for ages.

    And what’s so bloody funny about “wheelie-bin”, eh? It’s no dafter than “fanny-pack”, which is a bum-bag, as any fule no ;-)

  4. changterhune – Before you hear lies from Chang Terhune himself, we thought we’d tell you the truth: without us, his old action figures, he’d be nowhere. He loved science fiction from way back and began reading it at an early age, but it was through us that he acted it all out. That’s what led to the writing. He watched a lot of science fiction shows like Star Trek, U.F.O, and movies, too. But we were always there to do his bidding. And it’s like they say: you always forget about the little people on your way up. Oh, the 70’s and early 80’s with him were good times! He’d use these blocks and make all the crazy buildings for us to be in his stories. I gotta say the kid’s imagination was pretty damn fertile. Oh, he had friends, but they just weren’t into it like him. He was like the Lance Armstrong of action figures. And of science fiction. At first, when he began writing in the eighth grade, we didn’t mind. He still made time for us. And we knew that when he was holding us in his sweaty little hands and he got that far off look in his eye, he’d come back to burying us in the back yard or - god forbid! – blowing us up with firecrackers. But it was worth it for a part in one of those stories. We loved him for it. He kept us around even when we were minus a leg or two - or even a head. In that mind of his, he found a use for all of us. Then he discovered girls. October, 1986. It was like the end of the world. One day we’re standing in the middle of this building block creation he’d pretended was some marble city on a planet near Alpha Centauri and the next we were stuck in a box in the closet. Not even a “See ya later!” Nope, it was into the closet, then we heard some high-pitched girly-giggles then silence. We didn’t see him for years. We got word about him once in a while. Heard he took up writing, but it was crap like “The Breakfast Club” only with better music. We couldn’t believe it. Not Charlie. What happened to those aliens with heads he’d sculpted out of wax? Spaceships? Those complex plots? All gone. For what? You guessed it: Girls. Emotions. “Serious fiction.” I tell you, it was like hearing Elvis had left the building. During our two decade exile in the closet, we heard other things about him. He went to college. He wrote a lot, but not much he really liked. We knew it even then. It was like he didn’t dare write science fiction. Some of us had lost hope and just lay there. Others kept vigil, hoping for a day we didn’t dare speak about. Then we heard he’d stopped writing in 1996. Did he come to reclaim us? No. He took up music for ten years or so. He took up yoga. Once in a while, he’d visit us in the closet. But it was half-hearted. His mind was elsewhere. Then one day, he really did come back for us. One second we’re in the dark and the next thing we know we’re in a car headed for Massachusetts. Suddenly we got a whole shelf to ourselves out in broad daylight! Then he bought a bunch of others form some planet called Ebay. He’d just sit and stare at us with that old look. But why were we suddenly back in the picture? He had a wife now, who didn’t mind that he played with us. So what had happened? Turns out he’d never forgotten about those stories. He’d been thinking about all of us and the stories he’d made up and then remembered he’d been a writer once. From the shelf we could see him typing away. Before long he’s got a whole novel together! Then he’s working on another one. Word is there are two more in the planning stages! Some short stories, too! It’s good to see him using his imagination again. Its good to know he never abandoned us. He returned to his true love of science fiction. We hear the stories are pretty good. Someday we’ll get one of the cats to score us a copy of the manuscript. Man, it’s good to be out of the damn closet! --- I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me
    Chang O.C., by any means necessary

    Wow.

    Apparently, these English kids are idiots. And making themselves dumber by leaps and bounds.

    Have they no Purell? Model glue? Gasoline? Hallucinogenic toads?

  5. # PixelFish Says:
    November 23rd, 2007 at 11:20 am

    Man, whatever happened to rolling down a hill and making yourself dizzy?

    There’s that. Or, Amsterdam is just a short trip across the Channel.

  6. Having worked in plastics injection molding you don’t get high off the burning fumes. No where near intoxication. Dying brain cells, and other tissues, is pretty much it. Hey what’s this; the safety sheet says this one release cyanide when heated above 590.
    They are better off getting Varsol from the hardware store.


  7. # Dan Says:
    November 23rd, 2007 at 12:10 pm

    # PixelFish Says:
    November 23rd, 2007 at 11:20 am

    Man, whatever happened to rolling down a hill and making yourself dizzy?

    There’s that. Or, Amsterdam is just a short trip across the Channel.

    There are no hills in Amsterdam. The Netherlands are famously flat, in fact.

    (joke)

  8. At least the English know that mathematics remains plural when you shorten the word. This entitles them in my book to ‘wheelie-bins’ and ‘bum-bags’. (I actually much prefer the general usage of the term ‘bum’ over ‘fanny’. Fanny is a girl’s name. Calling me bum, ‘fanny’ seems bloody bonkers.) Some might accuse me of being anti-American, which I’m not, but I do have ancestors who were members of Butler’s Rangers, and had to flee the country for a few generations after the War, so maybe that’s why I sometimes think the British understand the language better than we do.

  9. “Wheelie-bins” is funny, any way you look at it. Makes one think of Weeny, which is an innoffensive word but still makes me gigglish for some reason.

    Getting high on burning wheelie-bins. I can see that happening. The drug progression would work like this:

    1. intoxication on parental tabacco fumes
    2. Watching too much reality TV
    3. a brief (but thorough) incursion in pron,
    4 That trip to Amsterdam that everyone was talking about
    5, 6, 7, 8, 9: binge drinking like only British teenagers know how.
    10: the required level of idiocy has been achieved! You are now ready to get high on trash.

  10. I think “Wheelie-bins” is hilarious. Descriptive, fun to say, and (like Sara says), sounds like “weeney.”

    What’s not to like?

  11. “Wheelie-bins” puts me in mind of a poor-man’s transformers.

    hehehehe

    Or, taking a trash can with wheels, and riding it down a slope.

  12. #15: Many’s the US employee transferred to the UK or Australia, who has been taken to task for suggesting a “pat on the fanny”.

    We have wheelie-bins too, but (#3) only if they have wheels. Anyone who sa otherwise is an uter wet and a weed and i DISKARD him into above-sed bin.*

    *Decades before LOLCAT there was Molesworth.

  13. My favorite British term is “sniffer dogs” (usually pronounced ‘sniffah dogs’) for what we’d call search dogs, or drug-sniffing dogs, or even ‘cadaver dogs’.

    Also, huffing burning trashcans is arguably better than huffing fermented human sewage.

  14. @11: Nathan said:

    Another true wheelie-bin tragedy.
    http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/tees/6945767.stm

    The tragic bit is the demonstrated lack of either clear communication or clues. I wonder if the charity sends their counselors out to visit the bereaved with a similar lack of information?

    @21: Jon H said:

    Also, huffing burning trashcans is arguably better than huffing fermented human sewage.

    BINGO! And there, concerned citizens, is your answer: Add a quantity of sewage or nightsoil (bagged!) to the contents of your wheelie bin. If nightsoil is unavailable, substitute a sealable plastic vessel containing a small amount of 1,4-diaminobutane (putrescine), cadaverine, or other noxious nitrile of choice. Even the thickest of chavs may learn from this form of arson/inhalation aversion therapy…

    Heck, it beats the leaflets and other measures proposed here.

  15. Ahh… Teesside.

    Is it wrong that this story almost makes me nostalgic for the place?

    I’m sure that feeling will be cured when I go back there for Christmas.

  16. Holy Crap.
    British kids are stealing trash bins and smoking them. I don’t even know what to say to that.

    I have lost so much respect for you, Britain. Don’t you know you’re a role model? Who will we look up to?

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