Top up?
This isn't so much how a Nokia wrecked my life as how it utterly changed the existence of one young lady I used to know for ever.

In days long since passed I was responsible for organising the university ski trips.

The positives:
Free holiday
Free drinks
A large amount of a grade pharmaceuticals, again, gratis
and a lot more action than I would have got otherwise.

The negatives:
Dealing with 300 battered, permanently horny students and rescuing them from, in no particular order, hospital, a public toilet, prison, a crevasse, the very top of a mountain, an extremely league of gentlemen-esque locals bar and a drainage pipe.

Now, one of the responsibilities that was a distinct pleasure was prize giving at the end of the week. The usual antics received recognition - inappropriate nakedness, ill-advised decisions involving alcohol and people of the opposite sex, peculiar injuries, etc, etc. There was also a Darwin award. For the uninitiated this is an award for an act of singular stupidity. We had some truly hysterical submissions, including the chap who recreated a scene from Dumb and Dumber and left the tip of his tongue on the ice-cold safety bar of a chairlift; and the young lady who managed to knock herself out while running from one room to another to engage in a game of hide the slipper and was found in the hallway by the Harlequin and other organisers in nothing but her delightful French knickers. These however pale in comparison to the tale of a charming young fresher called Elle that was imparted to us by a friend of hers.

Elle had a top-up phone and a new boyfriend who was not on the ski trip. She was full of the joys of spring and enjoying this burgeoning relationship. This situation led to her going through her credit halfway through the week and a plaintiff cry to daddy to buy some more for her and top up her mobile.

Doting daddy dutifully did this and informed the apple of his eye that he'd enabled her to continue her long distance courtship with the new beau. After a perfunctory thanks to her papa Elle then recommenced communication with the aforementioned fella. This was not in the form of a shy flirtatious text that one might expect but possibly the most graphic description of carnal activities the Harlequin has ever heard of. This innocent little blonde was describing things that would give the marquis de Sade a heart attack. And all this was going to be done to the recipient of the text as soon as she returned from the trip.

Tragically for Elle "Dad" and "Dan" are rather close in a contacts list. And so, perhaps partly due to her excited state having just informed her gentleman lover of what precisely she was going to do to him with hands, lips, tongue and various other parts of her anatomy, it was probably a turning point in Elle's life when she received a delivery report a few minutes later saying "Received. Dad Mob."

I, being a sensitive soul, related this tale to the entire trip on an extremely inebriated last night dinner and young Elle took it like a trooper, even standing on a table to be acknowledged by the crowd while going the most peculiar shade of red I think I've ever seen. The line that bought the house down was the last line of the text. I can't, for decencies sake, quote in full, but the following words featured: "love it", "your rock hard cock", "thrust into" and "my hot little arsehole".

I bet the first family dinner was all sorts of fun...

Length? Dunno. How long is a Nokia 6210?
(DarkHarlequin putting babies on spikes since, Tue 4 Aug 2009, 12:07, 1 reply)

^ this
If only for "my hot little arsehole".

Though taking that out of context, it could be something uttered by a young child several hours after winning a bet to eat a full vindaloo.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Tue 4 Aug 2009, 13:07, closed)