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Spazzy Off The Top
by Ozzie Osbourne
I’m sure there must have been a million articles written on swimming baths. Most of them will probably mention the lovely old men who used to stand at the windows watching us diving off the stage. Or so we thought. Little did I know that they had no pockets in their pants & were gleefully dragging the head off it at a rate of knots. So I’m not going to witter on about my local baths. I’d rather talk about the greatest ever "Outdoor" baths.
For me it would have to be Southport. As a kid I was always taken for a day out to Southport on the train & the mental scars are still with me to this day. We’d go on the train & meet up with my Granddad who had drove there via the A roads because his sky blue fibre glass 3 wheeler spaz chariot wasn’t allowed on the motorway. But it wasn’t the big open-air baths we went to oh no! We went to that little fucking paddling pool which was painted blue & had wooden bridges across it. We’d spend hours paddling & splashing away in 12 inches of piss & period clots. Every so often we’d jump off the bridge & land in the water before slipping on the bottom & knocking ourselves unconscious. When we’d wake up we’d try to climb the fountain. We’d cut our bodies to fucking ribbons trying to climb it & return home with grazes that Carl fucking Foggerty would be appalled at.
The afternoon would consist of a game of football on the grass & a couple of hours trying to scrounge money off our Mams for a game of pitch & putt before going round the fair to watch everyone with smiles on their faces on the rides. Watch is all we fucking did. But once we did get a treat & we were allowed in the big open air baths. Our parents went & sat in the seats while me & Our Mark stripped our underpants off (towel around us) & pulled our football shorts on. Then climbed straight up to the stage & I wet straight off. Aaaaaaaaaaarrrrgggghhhhhh !! It was like landing in a bucket of fucking ice. I was frozen to the fucking spot. Headaches, ball aches, stomach aches the lot. As I looked up to the stage Our Mark shouted "Is it hot?” "Fucking boiling" was the obvious reply. Whooooossshh off he went. When he came up he said "I feel like I’ve been electrocuted". His face was blue. After the hypothermia had gone & the hot water bottles & London marathon tin foil jackets were taken away our parents used to immortal line "get back in. “It’s warmer the second time". Took me a month to get my cock back. Then as the ladybirds came we’d make our way back to Southport station to catch the Tipworth fucking Thunderbolt back to Wigan Wallgate & hope against hope that one of me Mams freshly cooked do-nuts would fall from her grasp. Horrendous times.
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