not me but my old mate paul
or as he sometimes prefers to known - Denzil Victor Kyam Lewis - he actually had a credit card in this name when we were at college. Anyway Spimfy bonus - two bloody stories regarding Paul. A matinee double bill if you like.

First is short and sweet. Paul went to watch cricket on a hot summers day - got pissed, passed out, came to and found everyone had gone home. Now it's fair to say that Paul cultivated a bit of a mean and moody look while we were at college - he had a number 2 with a little quiff at the front and wore nothing but black. He did scowl at fair bit too – or as he put – he usually got a seat to himself on the bus. I cant stress this enough though – Paul was and remains a lovely bloke. As he made his way home he realised people were treating him with a degree of trepidation. The ticket bloke on the tube seemed a bit freaked by him. People on the tube were keen not to catch his gaze. By the time he got on the bus and people were nervously avoiding him too he started to feel a bit uneasy. By the time he got home he was tired though and just crashed out.

Next morning Paul stumbles into the bathroom and had a heart attack, well not really but it was threatened for a moment at least. His entire face was covered in streaks of dried blood. His head was cut and had covered his entire face in claret - presumably while he was asleep. To this day he has no clue what happened.

My other bloody Paul story had more far reaching consequences. He went on a trip to Paris during our second year at college with his then girlfriend. As is sometimes the case, at the height of passion he suffered a snapped banjo – she must have been as tight as a fat birds shoe. Anyway apparently what followed was akin to the rave scene at the start Blade. So fast forward to Paul back in our flat after the trip. Paul is in the bath, I am pottering about waiting for the future Mrs Spimf to arrive. I had been on the phone to Mrs Spimf just a few minutes before, sadly it would seem I did not replace the receiver properly. An added feature of old BT landlines was that in certain circumstances if another call came in and the receiver was not replaced the phone wouldn’t ring but the caller would be connected allowing them to hear what was going on. It was at this point Paul’s girlfriend decided to call (to protect her innocence we’ll simply refer to her as Miserable Psychotic Self Centred Bitch) just as Paul (loudly from the bath) regaled me with how he had banged her so hard he “broke his cock on her” typical lad type tale, no malice though, and not (from my memory at least) in any discernable way derogatory towards his charming girlfriend.

The following day Miserable Psychotic Self Centred Bitch told him she had heard every word and they were ova! No bother you might think – unfortunately Paul had not only snapped his banjo but he had also managed to impregnate Miserable Psychotic Self Centred Bitch on their ill fated trip to gay Paris. Blood it seems is not thicker than sperm.

Paul’s kid is around 20 now and by all accounts is a decent bloke just like his old man - no thanks to the 20 years of access wrangles and general psychotic behaviour from the Miserable Psychotic Self Centred Bitch.


!
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Tue 12 Aug 2008, 14:29, 4 replies)

That's a lot of counselling...
I assume the poor kid doesn't know the full story of his conception?
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Tue 12 Aug 2008, 14:49, closed)

Coffee snortage...
Thank you. Thank you so very much. I just snorted coffee all over my screen at the line "she must have been as tight as a fat birds shoe"
Classic!
( bentalls In my head, I am a ninja, Tue 12 Aug 2008, 15:22, closed)

^^
Yep, FBS gets a click from me too.
(JohabMorelli is spenging merrily away, Tue 12 Aug 2008, 16:42, closed)

FBS was pretty good
but I also liked Miserable Psychotic Self Centred Bitch.

Clicky from me too.
(misskitty reeks of sex and turpentine; laudanum afternoons, Wed 13 Aug 2008, 2:52, closed)