The Albert
I had just moved to Hastings, New Zealand and I had an hour or two to kill after work, so, wearing the rather fetching uniform of my Employer, (green polyester shorts and a white polo shirt with Healthcare Hawkes a Bay on the tit) off to town I a wander.

I soon discovered my error, town was shite, the one music store had nothing except chart bollocks, the guitar shop had squiers, some unidentifyable Korean shite and trannie Mashalls, and there was no decent bookshops ( and a paperback cost 50 dollars,), so to the pub.

The place was called the Albert, and was a colonial building, a bit shabby but I didn't like shiny pubs anyway. I opened the door and walked confidently in.

A shaved Sasquatch looked up from the pool table, he wore a vest, a pair of stubbies (Google them) and a beard, I looked to my left, a load of tattooed gentlemen in Red started to rise, to my right a man grabbed a bottle, and I remembered I was white, wearing green shorts and a polo shirt with a logo on the tit.

My Karate trading kicked in as I screamed and did a perfect pirouette on my trailing leg and fucked off as quick as my fat Welsh legs could carry me.

I asked the locals about the pub, and after stopping laughing they told me that my instincts were correct, that I would have been creatively hurt and I was a ' stupid pommie twat' for even attempting to enter the place.
(micmac is happy as a pig in shite, Fri 7 Feb 2014, 21:50, 1 reply)

After you executed the karate kick, did they all try to attack you one at a time?

( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Mon 10 Feb 2014, 8:19, closed)