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This is a question Nativity Plays

Every year the little kids at schools all over get to put on a play. Often it's christmas themed, but the key thing is that everyone gets a part, whether it's Snowflake #12 or Mary or Grendel (yes, really).

Personally I played a 'Rich Husband' who refused to buy matches from some scabby street urchin. Never did see her again...

Who or what did you get to be? And what did you have to wear?

(, Thu 26 Mar 2009, 17:45)
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My mate Rembrandt the tattooist
My best mate is a lad named Steve. Not the sharpest tool in the box, gets confused easily. But he's a fucking great artist and also a monumental pervert. It was only right and proper that these two attributes combined and he followed a career as a tattooist. Now he gets to be artistic all over young ladies bottoms, boobs and ocassionally puts a bit of ink in a place where the sun doesn't shine. One time Steve explained:

"The hardest part of my job is my cock - usually when I'm asking some nubile young emo girl to move her panties to one side while I put a butterfly just above her growler."

The lad is quite simply a class act.

A while back Steve was giving the hot beef injection to a primary school teacher in Tufnell Park. Not during lessons, I hasten to add, but afterwards. She knew about Steve's talents and one night in the pub asked if he'd help out with the nativity play. Steve looked a bit confused:

"You want me to give the kids tattoos?"

"No," she shook her head. She wanted Steve to help out paint a few sets. Obviously, I was sitting there too and somehow got roped into the deal.

So, a dark and rainy North London night in late November, Steve and I turn up at the school with a few pots of paint and are shown to the hall. Steve's latest squeeze introduces us to the deputy head who's organising the nativity, a strange looking old woman who looked like oddly like my uncle Geoff. She stood infront of a big blank canvas that was hanging over one end of the hall. She spread out her hands, framing the canvas as if she were Speilberg preparing a shot.

"I want something grand!" she said. "I want something that stands out!"

Steve nodded, I stood at the back wondering if they had a some place I could go and have a smoke.

The deputy head continued.

"I want and opus prime!"

Fuck me, Steve was a professional tattoist who specialised in putting winged insects and love harts round the female pantline. Rembrandt he definately was not.

"Opus prime?" Steve asked, I knew he didn't have a fucking clue what this made old lady was on about. But he nodded and smiled, he actually seemed cheered. "I can do that! No sweat!"

And then we were left alone, Steve and I, to *ahem* work our magic. As soon as the coast was clear I went out to have a fag and left Steve to come up with the initial design.

When I came back I very nearly shat myself laughing.

"Whaddya think?" asked Steve, busying himself with the outline, teetering on top of a set of ladders.

"Its very... nice... Steve..."

"Come and gissa hand, Spanky."

And I did. And we worked our bollocks off. And all the time I realised how much of a monumental cunt I was. Steve, however, seemed to be really getting into it.

"Think I might come and watch this nativity," he said. "Sounds like it might be a real laugh!"

Oh yes, Steve - I'm sure it will!

After a couple of hours of painting, Steve doing the hard stuff and me filling in the big spaces with colour, the canvas was complete. Class 4B had their nativity backdrop. And it was fucking awsome, I have to say. Steve really is a fucking great artist.

The deputy head returned and stood in the doorway. She looked shocked. Steve's other half appeared and her teeth started to grind, she shot us both a 'you are fucking dead!' look.

"I don't understand..." stuttered the deputy head. "What's this?"

Steve put down his brush and beamed: "It's great, isn't it? Think I've done him justice!"

And the four of us stood back and admired his handywork. It was a fucking awsome sight. An action scene. The leader of the Transformers, crouching on the ground, a defiant fist raised in the air, helecopters and fighter jets zooming round in the background, several explosions blooming, destruction, death and utter mayhem.

"Opus prime, indeed," I said, and put my arm round Steve's shoulder.

You could've heard a pin drop.
(, Tue 31 Mar 2009, 11:34, 10 replies)
Excellent!
Lol!
(, Tue 31 Mar 2009, 11:41, closed)
You, sir
really are a monumental bastard, aren't you?

But in a good way...
(, Tue 31 Mar 2009, 11:47, closed)
This is marvellous
really amazingly marvellous!
(, Tue 31 Mar 2009, 12:01, closed)
click
and I'd click more if I could.
(, Tue 31 Mar 2009, 12:02, closed)
HeeHeeHeeHeeHee
this is classic, thanks, Spanks
(, Tue 31 Mar 2009, 12:03, closed)
This is dead funny
thanks for the laughs, SpankyHanky. *clicky*
(, Tue 31 Mar 2009, 12:08, closed)
Hahahahaha *clicks*
Never mind the plausibility, feel the width.
(, Tue 31 Mar 2009, 12:41, closed)
Winnah!!!
Clickety Click!
(, Tue 31 Mar 2009, 14:04, closed)
Glorious, as always...

*breaks mouse button with over clickage*
(, Tue 31 Mar 2009, 14:49, closed)
Excellent!
But I want pictures!
(, Tue 31 Mar 2009, 16:55, closed)

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