Wardrobe Malfunction! Wardrobe Malfunction!
Back in my early twenties I used to be a big fat fucker. If you gave me a choice between sex with a beautiful woman or a plate of donuts, I’d have chosen the donuts anytime. And after I’d polished off the donuts, licking the sugary goodness and saturated fat off my fingers, I’d probably have made full use of this beautiful woman by getting her to go out and pick me up a shitload more donuts. Then one day I realised enough was enough and I lost so much weight you could’ve made an exact replican of Susan Boyle with the excess flab. But being a bloke it took me a good long while to realise that I’d have to, grudgingly, fork out for a new wardrobe. My jeans and t-shirt were literally hanging off me. It came to a head when I was in that there fancy London visiting a mate for a long, lazy weekend.

We were strutting down Oxford Street, soaking in the sights, when I noticed someone famous was doing a book signing in Borders. It was none other than Ian Wright, the footballer and allround wideboy gobshite. Now, I really didn’t give a shit about Ian Wright. But my friend who was a dyed in the wool Arsenal supporter did. So we ended up joining a pretty long line of fanboys wanting to get the autobiography of this great mind of our age signed (probably with an ‘X’ in crayon).

As I’ve mentioned, I was now a thin man (well, thinner) wearing a fat man’s cloths. The main problem with this was that I didn’t own a belt. Never needed one before. In my previous fat life a belt was about as useful and practical to me as a virginity testing kit would be for Jordan. So I’m stood in line, hands in pockets, sort of holding my jeans up by clamping them against my legs. Occasionally reaching down to give them a tug if they slipped out of position. I’m starting to lose the will to live. The line isn’t moving fast enough.

But eventually we get to the front. Ian Wright grins a big toothy grin. Seems like a nice enough fella up close. My mate’s extatic, I think he might have got a sudden and rampant hard on at the sight of this slightly muscular black dude with a flat top haircut. My mate steps forward, offering a copy of Ian Wright’s autobiography for the great man to sign. In doing so he automatically passes me his shopping bags (we’d already been on Oxford Street for fucking ages). I automatically reached out both hands to take the bags.

My jeans automatically slip off my lithe frame and I effectively show one of England’s greatet ever footballers (allegedly) my wrinkled pants. This was made even worse because in the morning when I was getting ready, trying to do ten things at the same time, rushing round my mates kitchen wearing only my underwear, I accidentally dropped my toast into my lap. I remember brushing off the mess thinking: no one’s gonna see my pants, fuck it, doesn’t matter. So I didn't bother changing them.

Terrible thing is I had marmite on toast that morning. Ian Wright was very amused. His agent thought for one breif moment I was going to try and bum rape his client, standing there as I was with my jeans round my ankles, wearing shit-smeared boxers. To try and make the situation a little easier to bear I remember saying: "It's ok look," and reaching down, rubbing some of the brown stain onto my finger, and then raising it to my lips to lick and taste.
(Pastabator earned his brown wings with your girlfriend on, Wed 14 Oct 2009, 10:26, 6 replies)

i dont care
how much of this is true - this is funnier than anything else i've read this week
(bamboozled Can hear you getting fatter, Wed 14 Oct 2009, 10:40, closed)

^ Agreed
Clickity clickity
( rofl harris, Wed 14 Oct 2009, 11:06, closed)

Ha ha ha ha!
I think I might ring him up on that terrible Channel 5 show of his and confirm that this tale is true. It's very funny.
( Smallbrainfield, Wed 14 Oct 2009, 13:13, closed)

Most amusing
'Big boned', 'it's my glands', 'it's all in the genes'?
No.

'I used to be a big fat fucker'!

Have a donut, sorry, click.
(Tighthead, Wed 14 Oct 2009, 13:15, closed)

Is it me
Or has every fucker met Ian Wright? My brother chatted up his WAG in an Abercrombie & Fitch in Florida.

Brilliantly funny story anyway, have a click.
( Rookie You'll have to speak up, I'm wearing a towel, Wed 14 Oct 2009, 14:58, closed)

:)
I'm laughing so hard at this I have tears in my eyes...

So glad I got to comment before this one closed up...have a click

:)
( snee held his breath since, Thu 15 Oct 2009, 14:07, closed)