
Ever gone on a date when "she" turned out to be a male university lecturer in his 50s who tucked his shirt into his Y-fronts? No, me neither. Tell us how it all went shit-faced.
( , Thu 4 Sep 2014, 13:13)
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In Glasgow with a gay friend. Damn I'm hip, I thought. I'm not even quivering with fear. I'm talking with, like, total fags like they're real people. I'm totally seeing lesbians playing tonsil hockey. They both might look like Bobby Hill, but hey, two chicks, amiright?
I was drinking a pint of lager to assert my heterosexuality, as all the bummers were drinking spirits or from branded bottles. You know, like I was a real man. So when a young lady came up to me and said "My friend fancies you," I assumed her friend was a girl. So I followed her, and my glib superiority turned to horror when she led me to a bloke. Who was old. Like, about sixty old. And fugly. And who started spouting indecipherable Glasweegie at me. Dumbstruck, I accepted a drink and stood there trying to think how to escape without seeming a total dick. But after a moment or two I realised I had no obligation to this guy so I just said, "Er, sorry, I'm not gay, and I'm just going to join my friends". I felt like Niles in the Frasier episode when his dad has to make on that he and Niles are in a relationship. It wasn't the being thought gay that annoyed me. Evidently people thought that was the best I could do.
( , Wed 10 Sep 2014, 13:05, 6 replies)

the young neds from Easterhouse and Anderston for sex, ask B3ta comedian Moag Brainbow because he knows.
( , Wed 10 Sep 2014, 14:51, closed)

Gay guys are generally fussier than fat chicks.
( , Wed 10 Sep 2014, 15:23, closed)
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