I briefly worked in a bookshop in the 80’s
As you can imagine, it was really quite stupendously dreary, so I used to fuck about to help pass the time. Tearing the last page out of books etc..you get the idea.

The most fun I used to have though was when people phoned the shop asking if we stocked certain books…I mean, our crappy little shop was not exactly in the computer age yet, and I couldn’t be arsed to check through reams of inventory to see if we had anything in stock. So whenever somebody would call I would just toss a coin and answer accordingly. Heads = ‘Yes’, tails = ’No, fuck off!’.

I remember at the end of my last day there, I was bored as shit and this doddery old spacker phoned up asking if we had some dull, bollocks book I’d never heard of. Of course, in accordance with my ritual, I tossed the coin, and it landed on ‘heads’. So I told him. ‘Erm, yeah mate, we got it’. Well, the old cuntstick sounded as if he had had his first geezer-gasm!

In between panting breathlessly and probably jizzing his wrinkled old kex, he practically begged me to put it aside for him (like anyone else would give a monkeys’ toss), so I said ‘Okey Dokey, whatever’. For added authenticity I even asked his name and pretended to write it down! (pffffft!).

I then fucked off from the shop forever…laughing to myself to think that some old twat was going to hop on the bus with his zimmer frame and totter all the way across to our shop just to be massively disappointed. LOLz all round!

To this day I still remember the book he asked for. It was called ‘Fly Fishing’, by J. R. Hartley.
(King Nightmare, Fri 6 Jan 2012, 8:57, 3 replies)

Nice try, but no catch here, sorry.

( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Fri 6 Jan 2012, 9:05, closed)

I'm wondering if this is
Vagabond, or that rascal Badger.

Gotta be one of them.
(username failed moderation, Fri 6 Jan 2012, 9:14, closed)

Yeah,
Next time you try fly fishing, try using something less subtle than a 4lb steak as your lure.
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Fri 6 Jan 2012, 12:15, closed)