Tenuous, but worth telling (I hope)
A couple of weekends ago, as a favour to my girlfriend, I found myself in Dalton, Cumbria at their annual Medieval Festival, selling her friends chocolate.

While we were setting up, I got chatting to the guy and girl at the stall next to ours who was selling photographs. He looked about 40 and was dressed as a monk. The girl was dressed as a medieval wench, and a buxom one at that, but I stopped myself thinking about her breasts when I saw her childlike face as I didn’t want to be ‘that’ kind of person.

The festival started to get underway so for the next few hours, I did little than sell chocolate because despite being £1.95 for a tiny bar people seemed to love it meaning we were always busy. Then lunchtime came around and we started to quieten down, as people went off to eat or watch the street entertainment or (in huge numbers) congregate at the beer garden and get quite royally drunk, much to my envy.

So, in a quiet moment, I wandered off to look at the Monk and Wenches photos, although only the monk was there at the time, the wench must have been off doing whatever it is that young wenches do.

(By the way, I am becoming increasingly aware that you are probably expecting this to be some awful pun, but I assure you it’s not going to be)

Anyway, I was mightily impressed with the photos, and said as much to the monk, adding ‘Did your daughter take them all?’

Only to hear the angry words

‘Molly is my girlfriend’

And I spluttered some apologies and fled back to my stall and my barely able to control her hysterics other half.

You’ve never known discomfort until you have spent two hours being glared at by an angry, fake, possibly paedophile monk.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Thu 4 Jun 2009, 17:01, 1 reply)

Haaaaaaahahahahahahahaha

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 4 Jun 2009, 17:02, closed)