Contraband Security



As the father of a 10 year old boy, I was musing this morning about what I got up to at that age and recalled, with something of a shock, that it was about this time that a young chap's thoughts turn to such things as guns, beer and pornography. Before I was 11, I'd acquired a .177 air pistol from a friend at school, who had stolen it from his brother; a beer habit from my friend Tony Camacho, whose parents ran a hotel where he could steal cans of Watney's Pale Ale from the storeroom; and two copies of Mayfair that a friend of my parents' had accidentally left behind when staying at our house whilst over on a business trip from the US.

This load of contraband was stashed in a toolbox which I had acquired to keep the paints and Stanley knives and so on which I used as part of my Airfix model-making activities, and was normally safe against parental intrusion as it was a known quantity and not normally locked, unlike the desk draw in my bedroom where I kept my money, which my mother was constantly 'accidentally' opening, having no doubt surmised that my drawn complexion and tremor were the result of continual self-abuse over pictures of thickly bushed young ladies with green eyeshadow.

All this came to an end when my brother was off sick from school with measles, got bored and decided to make an Airfix Stuka which someone had given him the previous Christmas but he'd never had the inclination to build. He went to get some glue from my toolbox and, unable to find any on the top layer, removed this and started rummaging in the layer beneath. He wasn't interested in beer or porn, but the airpistol caught his attention and he swiftly removed it. Unfortunately, as a 10 year old, I wasn't the paragon of firearms safety that I am today and I had left it loaded, ready and with the safety off.

After he had stopped crying for long enough to explain to my mother how he had shot himself in the thigh, through his pyjamas, with an air pistol, a rummage search of my room was initiated which soon uncovered my proto-porn stash, several cans of beer, several more empties which I hadn't taken the opportunity to get rid of in time, and a couple of other bits which I had forgotten about, including a flick-knife I'd bought on a school day trip to Boulogne. When I arrived home from school I received, as you can imagine, the kind of reception which would nowadays put my mother in Holloway for five years.

All of this led me to think: where could chickenpunk junior be hiding his contraband? Suggestions?
I would check the available alcohol in the house to see if any of it has been diluted or adulterated in an attempt to disguise the fact that some has been siphoned off...

As to personal weaponry..unless the neighbour is complaining her cat has been limping from a mysterious injury, I wouldn't worry..

Sadly, the need for ' porn mags' is passe.. blame the internet which offers far more explicit and images and varieties of perversion to satiate any young person seeking to broaden horizens and ' stiffen ' resolve...

Best defence is a good offence.. Invite him into the shed and pop a couple and regale him with tales of your own mispent youth with a guided your collection of vintage erotica [ which, if you're not careful, he'll unload on E-bay at a healthy profit ]..Father/son male bonding...that's the way...[ still I'd check out his ' taste ' in imagery.. wouldn't want to be shocked into cardiac arrest by finding out he's into He-man Quarterly on Mincers on Parade - or, worse.. has B-B's home page on his ' favourites ' tab ]
At school I used to stash my illegal items in the back of my stereo speakers which were huge and full of fibre padding. They never thought to look in there :lol:

The precious vintage grot was stored either behind a nominated bookcase in the library that few people used or out in the woods in a carrier bag on the cross country course depending on the level of attention we were getting from the grown ups.
Handy Tip for your Son............. He should never attempt to bury his porn stash under the turf in the back garden, this always results in being found out, generally while sitting at the dinner table in summer and mother inquiring to father why there is an oblong shaped piece of yellow dry grass at the top of the garden only to find ones arsse on fire after items of adult literature are found. :lol: :D :lol:

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