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This is a question Will you go out with me?

"Bloody Kraut, a" asks, "How did you get your current flame to go out with you? If they turned you down, how bad was it?"

Was it all romantic? Or were the beer goggles particularly strong that night?

(, Thu 28 Aug 2008, 17:32)
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The hockling contest: my version
following this...


May bank holiday, 2003. It was the Orange festival on Newcastle and Gateshead Quayside, and Tourette's and I had been dating for a couple of months, but they mostly consisted of food, alcohol, or both. This was different, as live music and sunshine were to be added into the mix. And Moloko were headlining. I like Moloko, and think that Roisin Murphy has a voice to die for. So it seemed like a perfect idea.

We set off at around lunchtime, the journey there being somewhat stifled by my ex missus phoning me from London to panic about her friend not being there to pick her up from Heathrow as she was off her box on coke (her friend, not my ex). "Erm, what do you expect me to do about it"? was my helpful response, adding that it wasn't really my problem and could she not just get a bus or a cab to meet her?

Anyway, we arrived, and grabbed a bite to eat before sauntering along the Quayside. We took a trip across the Millenium bridge, ostensibly to have a look in the Baltic Art Gallery. However, the long, snaking queue put us off a bit and we decided to enjoy the sunshine and some more beer instead. A perfect day so far.

We took a slow stroll back over the bridge, blissfully happy. Then she asked if I wanted to play 'Kate and Leo'. I must have looked puzzled, so she explained.

Why not?

She went first, gargling phlegm like she'd been doing it for years. Head back, she suddenly shot forward and ejected a globular lump of hockle. It arced gracefully through the air; little bits of spittle and green catching in the sun's rays, before entering the water with barely a splash to settle on a rusting bicycle beneath the surface.

I was impressed; it looked like a 12-footer. My turn next.

I had observed her technique; and noticing that it seemed to be pretty efficient decided to copy it. Head back, gargle, and flob... It was going well, but not as well as I had hoped - probably a slight head wind had blown up - but it still entered the water perfectly straight, its trail remaining vertical as it silently entered the murky depths. Had that piece of flob been Tom Daly, it would have been a gold medal winner for style and technique.

Alas, my effort only managed about 10 feet (that head wind, you know) and I gallantly conceded defeat.

We walked the rest of the way back over the bridge to meet my friend Charlotte and her sister, the sun glinting off our spittle-flecked chins. I turned to look at her, and then stopped.

"Why are you walking funny"? I asked, eyebrow raised.

She just smiled enigmatically. I'm sure I heard a squelch though.

Moloko were excellent, by the way
(, Tue 2 Sep 2008, 12:44, 9 replies)
Are you sure it was an enigmatic smile?
Or was it phlegmatic.....?
(, Tue 2 Sep 2008, 12:55, closed)
Knowing tourettes
you have to wonder whether it was your raised eyebrow that caused the squelch, or the fact that she had been giggling.
(, Tue 2 Sep 2008, 12:58, closed)
That is the most romantic thing I've ever heard of.
You two are brilliant!
(, Tue 2 Sep 2008, 13:21, closed)
Ask them about Thropton Woods.
(, Tue 2 Sep 2008, 13:23, closed)
Coming up next:
DG and Tourettes have a fart lighting contest that sears off their eyebrows and inflames their passions...
(, Tue 2 Sep 2008, 13:26, closed)
^ Thrunton Woods
Now that was the epitome of romantic seduction.

And you witnessed the aftermath...
(, Tue 2 Sep 2008, 13:28, closed)
My version
is down there a bit
(, Tue 2 Sep 2008, 13:35, closed)
Your what?
oh sorry, version. Must get some glasses.
(, Tue 2 Sep 2008, 13:38, closed)
^ er....
Didn't intend that arrow to point directly inside my pants... oops! Sheep as a lamb, as my arse is now on teh interweb ;o)
(, Tue 2 Sep 2008, 13:41, closed)

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