Adonis & the Boiler
My boiler broke down recently; gurgling and spluttering like Boris Johnson receiving a Jeremy Paxman grilling on Newsnight.

I called my letting agents and they sent a young emo lad round to fix the fucker.

I made him a cup of tea and chatted to him while he tinkered away on the metal box in my kitchen.

"So what music do you like?" Followed by. "Seen any good films lately?" And so on. I even asked him if he worked out as he looked pretty buff - obviously I did this in as manly a way as possible. Then there was an awkward silence when we caught each others eye. I realised, with utter fucking horror, that this lad thought I was chatting him up. So I stopped and went into the living room to put some incredibly heterosexual music on the stereo and keep the fuck out of his way. Unfortunately my girlfriend, Liz, had left on of her discs in - so for a few paralysing moments Abba filled the flat. Fucking cock-sucking ball-bobbing, muthering take me up the shitpipe Abba. I stopped the cd player as quickly as I could and put on some manly Tool. Yeah - I even thought about asking the lad how gay he thought I was now, but thought better of it.

After a while I hear: "ALL FIXED, MATE - JUST HAD A BLOCKAGE IN YER VALVES."

I make my way to the kitchen, "Cheers, buddy - don't know how I can thank you enough."

And just as I said this I tripped over his coat which was lying on the floor.

And he was bending down sorting out putting his tools back in his toolbox.

And what with him being more fucking Emo than those cunts out of Lostprophets, he was wearing the standard emo uniform of baggy skatepants, which had - through the course of his endevours - slipped a bit.

And as I tripped and fell I saw his hairy arsecrack loom into view. It was like the scene in Star Wars - I was Luke in the x-wing, this fella's plunging buttocks was the Death Star trench. I hoped to God I wouldn't find his weakest spot.

But I didn't.

Thank holy mother of fuck.

Instead I ended up planting my nose neatly between the top of his sweaty arse cheeks and sort of sticking there, quite involuntarily, I took a sharp intake of breath.

He jumped.

I jumped.

He grabbed his coat and toolbox and fucked off sharpish.

And I was left wondering if the maintenance people would be on the phone advising me not to hero-worship the strapping young adonis' they send round to sort out my flat in the future.
( SpankyHanky, Mon 20 Apr 2009, 17:23, 3 replies)

That poor sensitive emo boy
You probably scarred him for life, you dirty poof. *click*
(Helixdaunting, Tue 21 Apr 2009, 0:19, closed)

Wasn't a Freudian trip, then?
Last year whilst doing a spot of painting, I decided to belt out some uber heavy german industrial music with the window open, specifically to piss off the drunken neds who were having a party out the back.

Shuffle is the devil.

A full 20 seconds of Gloria Gaynor's I Will Survive escaped before I managed to hit next.

Fortunately, only a few bars of Erasure got out before I decided to cut my losses and turn the PC off.
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Tue 21 Apr 2009, 2:29, closed)

Funny as fuck
Mr Spanky. Love it!
(Lizard King, Tue 21 Apr 2009, 8:21, closed)