Nick
You know the scene - you've just left University; you're penniless and homeless and most likely jobless as well. You're also achingly unwilling to let go of all your friends and drinking buddies with whom you've spent several years imbibing watered-down piss under the alias of 'student beer'.

Luckily, I had a girlfriend to fall back on, and she was happy to take me into her house (in which she was living rent-free), while I sought gainful employment. Unluckily, she hadn't banked on me bringing Nick with me.

We knew Nick lived in the same town, but we weren't banking on the fact that his parents were about to kick him out of their house due to him being a fat, gormless slob. So, once the summer was over, there he stands on the doorstep, cap in hand, looking for somewhere to live.

Unfortunately, we hadn't at the time seen fit set any house rules. Many of them, we wouldn't thought were necessary to set, such as 'please don't crap in the back garden' or 'please don't throw your spliff ends into the guinea pig hutch' or 'please don't vomit on the washing-up and then neglect to clean it'. Needless to say, these were among Nick's crimes. He was soon confined to his room, a pit of gluttony from which errant farts and skid-marked laundry occasionally emanated.

I'd managed to get myself a bit of part-time work running a mobile disco rig and playing lounge piano, which meant I was out most evenings, and after about the first fortnight, my dearest other half declared herself unable to stay in the house while Nick blared some dub-dance rubbish from his room at all hours. I'd known the guy for long years, and knew he was a bit of a slob, but our friendship was beginning to become severely tested. He would happily come to slob around downstairs with me while the lady was at work, but got grumpy and anti-social as soon as she came home. Barely a month into his tenancy, we were making plans for him to leave.

The final straw came on one freezing night around Halloween when he woke us up by having a wank. Not a major issue, normally, but Nick wasn't just pulling the bratwurst in his bedroom. No, fuelled by dozens of tequila shots at the pub, he was having a wank in the front garden. In full view of anyone passing by.

I wasn't working that night and had treated myself to an early night. The first I knew of it was a hideous whispered: "ousgg! Wake up!", and I roused myself to see my betrothed staring open-mouthed out of the window. He was standing over her collection of lawn-ornaments, mostly cheap tat, but there was one artifact which she was very fond of - a granite ornamental well belonging to her late grandmother, one around which she had frolicked as a toddler, and her sole inheritance. It was a precious and sentimental artifact and wasn't unknown for her to take a tin of Pledge to it during the summer.

As I opened the window to call out to Nick, the offender still pounding furiously on his manmeat, he gasped, pulled a face like a pig trying to solve a difficult crossword and deposited teaspoons of baby jam onto the roof of the much-loved well. My wife-to-be sobbed her heart out and hid her face and I watched with rising bile as Nick attempted to remove the offending blob by smearing it with his T-shirt. This made it all the worse because he was just spreading it out into a big, sticky puddle. It would have been better if he'd just let it dry out and pick it off. I would later have to take a pressure-washer to the poor stone-ware.

Pushing open the window, I yelled: "Get your fucking arse inside, now!" as my sweetheart howled in new paroxyms of digust. Putting on a dressing gown, I marched downstairs to confront the porcine-faced offender.

"Nick, you're going to have to leave this house tomorrow!" I bellowed.

"Why?" he asked, a picture of innocence.

"We've put up with your disgusting habits for long enough, but this time you've over-stained your well-cum!"
( ousgg is not seeking approval, Tue 11 Jan 2011, 19:01, 6 replies)

To have over-stained - there would need to be some stain on top of the said substance.

I suggest that if the t-shirt was bought from a market, and bright red, the dye may bleed when it gets wet, hence improving the punchline.
(speedevil, Tue 11 Jan 2011, 19:45, closed)

I was going for 'over-stained' from the point of view of spreading the stain about further and making it bigger than intended, but point taken.

Do we need to run some sort of pun-school?
( ousgg is not seeking approval, Tue 11 Jan 2011, 19:53, closed)

a pun-centration camp, possibly

( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Tue 11 Jan 2011, 19:56, closed)

We could call it Ausch-wits!
Too soon?
( ousgg is not seeking approval, Tue 11 Jan 2011, 20:04, closed)

or Senne-laughter.

(tjn whizzing on the electric fence of life, Thu 13 Jan 2011, 7:05, closed)

"pulled a face like a pig trying to solve a difficult crossword"
Hahaha *click*
(Sadarse works like Mist condensing mud flaps, Tue 11 Jan 2011, 23:40, closed)