Wednesday, 5 March 2014

Hello Mom


This tale may or not be true depending on your current concept of reality….

One fateful Saturday night I decided to drive to my local throat hospital, the ‘Boiler Makers Arms’, for my usual medicant of 15 pints of Bank’s bitter. After imbibing copious amounts of medicine I decided to drive home.

Unfortunately I developed an adverse reaction to the elixir and as I climbed into the car the world began to spin and my vision became double. These side effects were not unknown to me and previous experience had provided a solution. By closing one eye and driving at a stately speed of 20mph I was assured of arriving home safe and sound.

I had travelled about a mile when a familiar blue, flashing light and blaring claxon beckoned me to pullover. As I staggered out of the car, I heard: ‘What have you been up to Mr Flaxen?’ I squinted at the boy in blue and was pleased to recognise him as a fellow member of my local Lodge. After the requisite handshake and the traditional garnishing of the palm with 20 quid I was on my way with a gentle admonishment.

I had obviously underestimated my sickness and imagine my dismay when I awoke latter that night on a park bench, bollock naked sporting nothing but a little light oiling and nipple rouge. To add to my predicament, I noticed that the big toe, of my left foot, was firmly wedged in the gaping, toothless maw of the local ‘Lady of the Night’ known fondly in the area as ‘Scout’.  This appellation had something to do with the tart’s tariff: ‘Bob a Job’.

Anyway, I noticed that ‘Scout’ was goggled eyed and gurgling pink froth and that my big toe had gone numb. Although enfeebled, I summoned a strength borne of demonic desperation and managed to slam my right foot firmly into her face. Consider my delight as the dislodged whore spun and flailed out of sight into the dead of the night. After release I decided to bugger off home.

I confess, I struggled next morning to explain to my wife the slight oiling and nipple rouge but was completely flummoxed when it came to provide a plausible explanation for the canine tooth lodged betwixt pinky and second toe.      

3 comments:

  1. I am reminded of my stag night before - I hastily add - my first marriage. I was dragged along to a Soho strip club. Frankly I have never enjoyed strip clubs and find them rather boring. Anyway, I made up for this by imbibing large quantities of lager.

    Naturally this has an enlarging effect on the bladder which I was forced to relieve by standing on the roof of a VW Beetle and urinating down the windscreen causing a most aesthetically pleasing waterfall effect. I have had a fondness for the old VW's lines ever since.

    Unfortunately the officer stood behind me took a less favourable view of the proceedings...

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  2. ".....the tart’s tariff: ‘Bob a Job’....."

    Nyuck!

    Men are pigs, by the way.

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  3. Yep, men are wretched creatures.

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