pearoast...
the only prick in the vill-age
back in the early ninties i moved from the city to a fairly crappy rural location. the local pub was a deliberately quaint affair with a few loyal regulars who had probably been there since the days when it was still a proper village pub. my girlfriend was away overnight 'on business' and i couldn't be arsed cooking for one, so duly headed off to said local for some pub grub. They did a decent steak so i decided a bottle of red was a good idea. the locals, who i knew only vaugely, had already on previous visits decided i was a 'yuppie incomer' for the following reasons.

1. i worked as a graphic designer
2. we owned two cars and commuted to 'the city'
3. my girlfiend was not a blood relative

...and crucially i had a HUGE twunty mobile phone, this was back in the day when they were a distinct novelty. So after my meal I got chatting, started necking double brandies (yup! ...prick) ostentatiously buying rounds and generally playing up to the 'townie arsehole/yuppie' image they had of me. I then proceded to get massively pissed, bragging about my 'highflying' career (shit job in a shit company) talking utter pish and generally being a right tit. Sadly - i do NOT suffer from alchohol induced memory loss. So the two most oustanding perfectly clear memories I have are: having a loud 'conversation' on my 'fancy yuppie phone' with, brilliantly, no-one on the other end. Also - lurching out of the gents, where i had thoughtfully pebbledashed the only cubicle with a foul cocktail of (very rare) steak, red wine, and multiple brandy vomit, safe in the belief that 'someon else' would get the blame - who 'someone else' was in a pub with 3 locals quietly sipping pints and marveling at the eyewatering staggering level of irksome cuntage that was moving into their little village, is still a mystery to this very day.

genius
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Wed 2 Jul 2008, 16:10, Reply)