FLOWER OF SCOTLAND
Now, there were two things wrong with my situation. Firstly, I wasn't Scottish, and secondly, I had a cock.

It all started in the Bolton Institute of Higher Education SU, where I was visiting a mate. He showed me the highlights of living in Bolton - pizza and a pint for two quid. It was fucking great. Two pizzas and seven or eight pints later we decided it would be a great idea to ring up all his mates and go clubbing. It was student night at Ritzys, and I had it on good authority that the female clientel of that esteemed establishment were walking sperm banks, just ready and waiting for any strapping young lad to make a hot and gooey deposit. You probably even got a receipt afterwards.

So, we're back at my mates house getting ready and some bright spark decides it would be fucking hillarious to dress up as women. This went down like the proverbial lead balloon. "Errr... isn't that a bit.... well... gay???" said someone.

But one of my mate's housemates thought it would be a great idea. And that swayed it for me. This housemate was an Oldham girl named Kim who was about five-foot-nothing with an incredibly large and firm set of knockers. As far as I was concerned, this qualified Kim to make all my future life decisions for me. If she thought it would be a great wheeze to see a load of blokes dress up like birds, then fuck it. And you never know, I might actually get some later...

Within a few minutes, grumbling and complaining, drinking beer and smoking fags, the lads had borrowed some gear from the female housemates. They looked fucking stupid. Like a bunch of transexual miners on a night out. I, on the otherhand, looked fucking stunning. Back then I had long girly hair and I have to say I looked a wee bit on the feminine side at the the best of times. I was pretty slight and shrugged into a lovely boob tube dress thing without too much difficulty. I looked at myself in the mirror and all I could think is: Spanky, that is one fine ass you have there, mate.

A few more beers later we get a taxi and go down to the club. The bouncers look at us as if to say: 'Fucking idiot cunt-faced students.' But they let us in and we start throwing some shapes and generally arsing about in the church of noise, dancing to such classic metal hits as Waterloo by Abba (ok, the music wasn't to my taste, but fuck it, I was shitfaced).

And then I started trying my moved on with Kim. Peculiar thing, trying to chat up a woman when your wearing a dress. Sort of hotwires your brain. Basically I got absolutely fucking nowhere. Kim eventually fucked off and started snogging the tonsils off this cunt who wasn't wearing a fucking dress, the brazen hussey.

So, I fell back on plan B. I decided to get so incredibly monumentally drunk that someone would have to carry me out of the place.

Must've been about 1am, the club is banging, its packed. I'm at the bar when I hear this Glaswegian accent:

"Can I buy you a drink?"

I ignore the fucker. He couldn't possibly be talking to me. But then I felt a hand on my shoulder (bare shoulder, it was a halter neck job I had on).

"I said, can I buy you a drink?"

And I turned and locked eyes with the tallest, widest, drunkest Scotsman I have ever seen in my fucking life. And then I did something really fucking stupid in hindsight. I said: "Sure, that would be lovely." Only it came out in a weird mock Scottish accent (I have this weird minor bird thing going on when I'm pissed. If I start speaking to someone who's got a strong accent I sort of adopt it. There's been occasions where people stop and say: "Are you taking the piss, mate?" And I have to explain that I'm not, its just something that I do without any thought).

This Scotsmans eyes light up: "You're from Scotland!" He proclaims. And I nod. This bloke could fold me in half with an arm tied behind his back. "There you go, flower." And he passes me over a bottle of what I'm drinking. And then he leads me off somewhere so we can *ahem* talk.

And talk we did. In a quiet corner on a sofa. He even went off at one stage to get in a few more beers and came back with a tray full of them.

"You're trying to get me drunk!" I said. Thankfully the music was so fucking loud he didn't seem to notice my deep, manly, masculine voice (either that or I was squeaking with fear).

He sits down next to me. Watching as I take a big slurp from the bottle of Bud. He leans in close to me and says: "If you give head like you drink beer I bet your fucking amazing!"

And I realise I really am very much out of my depth.

Fastforward an hour - the clubs getting close to closing time. I think my new boyfriend, Stan, thinks he's gonna be getting lucky tonight. I really, really, really need to get out of this situation. As Stan prattles on, trying to lube my fanny with his words, I frantically scan the dancefloor for my mates. They've all fucking gone! The cunts! They probably think I've got lucky - shit, if only they knew!

Being all dainty and lady-like I turn to Stan and say: "I need to go and have a slash." And I sway to my feet and go off for a piss. Its a strange club, I don't know the layout, I'm pissed, and it takes me a while to find the bogs. The gents, of course - I might be dressed as a woman, I might be about to let a man fuck me, but I am still a man.

I stagger inside, hitch up the dress, pull down my pants and start hosing the urinal like a guddun. I'm concentrating intently on the flow - it was a nice red dress I had on and any piss splashback would show like a muthafucker.

And then I look up and see the through the mirror above the urinals the bog doors open and my new boyfriend, Stan, step inside. He does a double-take when he sees his latest conquest having a stand up piss. Our eyes meet.

I think he's gonna twat me. But he doesn't. Instead he turns and fucking legs it.

The cunt.

I still, strangely, feel incredibly let down by my Scottish man friend, Stan. He really hurt my fucking feelings that night... I mean, was it something I said???
( SpankyHanky, Thu 9 Apr 2009, 11:30, 7 replies)

Perhaps
You were speaking with a Glaswegian accent when a Edinburgh accent would have been more appropriate - or the other way round.

*Clickety*
( SpikeyPickle wishes he was mabazaritchie, Thu 9 Apr 2009, 12:06, closed)

So you wanted this man to fuck you?
You are a peculiar boy. :-)
(Grrrrr Tigers, Thu 9 Apr 2009, 12:41, closed)

Epic post
and had me spewing sausage roll over my keyboard - *clicky*
(Milly One, Thu 9 Apr 2009, 12:42, closed)

Its the way you tell um
mr spanky!!!
(Errin C, Thu 9 Apr 2009, 12:50, closed)

Don't worry
It wasn't you, it was him.
*Click*
(porkylips looks better as the sun goes down., Thu 9 Apr 2009, 17:00, closed)

bahaha
click, especially for the last paragraph
(aeriph, Fri 10 Apr 2009, 9:19, closed)

strange, strange, strange
boy - funny though!
(Hotty, Fri 10 Apr 2009, 14:00, closed)