10 Things That Men Understand About Women

Random Things Men Should Know About Women

things men still don’t know about women











A drunken intruder was found on the toilet of the house he was burgling

Mark Johnson, who was under the influence of alcohol, was arrested by police officers when they found him in the upstairs bathroom of the home in Sunderland.Police officers climbed through a window of the house after neighbours had reported hearing the intruder break in.Diarrhoea outbreak

The commotion on the night of October 22 awoke the 64-year-old homeowner who said he did not know who the burglar was.

Johnson had earlier sped away from a police patrol car while twice over the legal limit, according to the Sunderland Echo.

After going through red lights and going the wrong way around a roundabout, he managed to get police off his trail. But not for long…

The 41-year-old, of Sunderland, was jailed for 18 months at Newcastle crown court after pleading guilty to burglary and a string of driving-related offences.

‘They found the defendant sitting on the toilet with his trousers around his ankles,’ said Bridie Smurthwait, prosecuting.

‘He shouted “what are you doing?” He was drunk.’

The Soap Stain – Satiric story

Every day Jonah Billingham washed his face and set the off-white block of soap back onto the cleft on the left hand side of the sink. This was a routine carried out two or three times a day, as he was a fastidious man, and, with every wash, he noticed an unnaturally coloured growth of material beneath his implement of cleanliness. This was an unsettling thought at the best of times, but, as a result of his recent unemployment, he was able to think of little else.

Unfortunately, as his time was occupied by so few distractions, this particular one drove him to the brink of madness. It was odd, he thought, that, now he thought about it, there were many things in his life that refused to simply let him be. His phone constantly rang, or seemed to, and this caused frequent bouts of anxious attack, he received post all the time, which made him extremely nervous, and, as he walked around the town looking for opportunities to occupy his new-found freedom, he couldn’t help noticing the furtive glances he received from complete strangers. These indecencies he was forced to suffer caused, as I’m sure you can imagine, immeasurable pain to a gentleman as prone to nervous tension as Jonah Billingham. He thus began to search his head for a possible answer to exactly why events had the appearance of converging deliberately to upset his delicate equilibrium, and could find only one.

He didn’t know exactly how, but the people around him, no matter where he went, had to know what he had done. The only thing that remained was how to fix it. A killing spree would be out of the question – he had had decidedly enough of that the last time – and of course he would receive no help from his family, being so far underground as they were. The police were equally unapproachable for several very good reasons aside from his highly recognisable face which he refused to alter (who knew where those surgical implements had been? Isn’t anyone else scared of bacterial infections?), nor could the government offer any useful help. That was it then, he would have to leave again. In the night would probably be best – it usually was. All of this running around was becoming quiet tiresome, but what else could he do? The road was clear, so to speak, and he would have to take it.

As he packed his bag the next morning, at half past one exactly, he worried, as was typical for him, about what he would do regarding money. On the previous two occasions he fled parts of the country to find another place of potential tranquillity for his increasingly imminent old age self he had found work. This recession was not friendly to your everyday serial murderer, that much is true. Oh well, he would just have to suffer as the rest of the country did. Would he move abroad if he had the money? Probably not – he loved the people here far too much.

Bags packed a shockingly quick seventeen minutes later, Jonah watched as the minute hand ticked towards the nicest round number he could think of before he left the block of flats where he had been staying and moved swiftly down the stairs to the ground floor. Through the doors and across the car park to where his blue van was stationed, as far away from any sign of habitation as possible, the open road was his again. As for money, he’d have to do what any other person in their wrong mind would – kill, maim, and steal obviously. His victims wouldn’t know until the very last second, for that was his way. Still, they’d be as much a part of his life as he was their death – so vital to his future success. He took solace in that.