GoFundMe Replaces The Bank Of Mum And Dad

When Mum and Dad said no to buying that expensive pair of trainers ‘everyone at school’ had, one young man took matters into his own hands.

“I was really surprised when my eldest started buying the local paper, I didn’t even know he could read, to be honest.” His mum told us.

“I was relieved at first, stopped him bleedin’ naggin’ me for stuff all the time, his head was always in a paper of some kind.”

Terry, 17, from Kent, was the first in the family to show any real initiative. He scoured the news items and obituaries for credible sources, enabling him to set up fundraising pages with countless sob stories.

“I saw on my Facebook feed that someone was asking for money cos someone couldn’t pay for the funeral of their dog. I couldn’t believe how many people clicked on the sad face and started giving money.”

Terry began to make up stories to go with the things he read in the news. He would say they were friends or relatives, and the money started flooding in.

“I had to set up loads of new accounts, at one point I think I had about 30.”

When we asked him if he felt bad about tricking people like this, he told us;

“Nah. They give what they can afford innit. I learned about it in school, it’s Communism.”

Terry’s parents are so proud of his entrepreneurial skills, and are thrilled with the caravan he bought them in Leysdown-on-Sea.

His mum’s final words? “ If there were more kids like Terry the world would be a better place. I have ten more like him to pay their own way from now on.”


Lisa Ives for Pf Magazine


Dog Blog

Charlie The Rescue ~ Blog

When my owner (not calling her mum) said she was going to start blogging as me, all I could do was bark. Sadly she told me to stop barking and hit the computer keys. I’m a dog, I can’t type and I certainly can’t communicate much more than, ‘I need a shit’ and ‘feed me’. Yes, there are times she thinks I’m ‘asking’ for a cuddle, but really I need an itch scratching I can’t reach, or I have a bit of dry poop stuck to the fur around my back bottom.

You know when your dog closes its eyes while you stroke it and talk in a silly voice saying ‘what a good doggy you are’ – and you’re like, ‘oh look, she’s loving it’. Truth is we’re closing our eyes and taking ourselves to a safe place, drowning out that silly high pitched baby voice that is making our ears bleed.

My owner came at me with a bandana once, what!? I’m not a cowboy, I’m a dog. I have concerns that now the weather is getting a bit cooler she might start dressing me up in silly coats. I know she likes tartan but everyone already thinks I’m a boy. Doesn’t help my cause that I cock my leg to pee. I have a dodgy back knee, don’t judge me.

I get praised for my ability to stand nicely on my lead while waiting for the humans to stop chatting. It’s always nice to get praise but to be honest I’m usually just bored stiff, literally. The drivel they come out with. It’s worse when we meet people with dogs, we just circle each other and sniff bums, and she tells the same story over and over again. Each time it gets that little bit longer and more embellished. When she says she rescued me the reaction is equivalent to suggesting she ran into a burning building and pulled me out.  She didn’t.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my new home, she’s a complete pushover. I’d go as far as saying she’s a bleeding heart liberal, aka snowflake. There’s a bloke I quite like who turns up almost every day, sometimes I have sleepovers with him as well. He likes to train me ‘properly’. I let him have his ‘moments’, why not, it’s fun to look like I’m attempting to get it right; I know he’s so stubborn he’ll keep going until I do, more treats for me!