Just a few weeks back...
On my team's annual trip down south, we'd spent the first night hosing down ale and chatting up the local lay-dees.

One of the lads, Scottie, had been talking some drunken bollocks to a hefty, overweight, pot-ugly, 40-something divorcee. She looked like a burst couch.

Anyway, Scottie wasn't quite drunk enough to shag her, but took her phone number, and the evening ended without incident.

The following night, Scottie is howling drunk, and his standards have obviously slipped somewhat, but his friend is nowhere to be seen. A crowd of us are stood at the bar, when he whips out his mobile and phones the lady in question.

His side of the conversation, bellowed loudly across the bar in an semi-agressive Scottish tone, went along these lines....

"I'm imaginin' that I've just been in yer bathroom fer a pish, and I come into yer bedroom and yer bent right ower yer bed and I jist charge in and take you right up the shitebox...."

Well you can imagine the reaction. Anyone stood within 5 yards of me was covered in 2nd hand Stella. Incredibly, she didn't hang up!

I didn't enquire as to whether he managed to fulfill his fantasy but I'm sure he would have told us if he had.

Definitely too much info.
(Reverend Fister "a disciplined fuckwit", Thu 6 Sep 2007, 16:08, Reply)