It was the summer of 1985
and like a bloody fool, myself and two friends were working in Germany in a factory that made cocoa powder. It was something to do whilst we waited for our A level results, but my God it was hard work.

Every morning we would cycle 5 miles to work, which was mostly downhill. So every evening, we would cycle back, get in, pour ourselves a drink, fall asleep, wake up enough to make some food and maybe play 'Risk' and then sleep like dead men.

Thanks to being idiots who didn't check these things before we left the UK, we got taxed to the hilt and after rent had not much cash left at all. Our fellow-workers were much older than us, didn't speak English (only one of us spoke German) and so there was no "integration" between the cultures at all.

There again, my twat of a friend doing a Hitler salute on the shop floor didn't help.

However, several weeks in, salvation appeared to arrive in a load of German students our age who started working there as a summer job. They spoke English, and appeared friendly. Emboldened, we asked them what could be done in this small town on the weekends. Where, specifically, could we go to meet WOMEN.

Because you can imagine how sexually-frustrated three 18 year old lads were. Any half-decent woman in the factory would be the subject of hours of erotic reverie, and with the heat of the summer the testosterone levels were approaching meltdown.

So, when a guy our age told us to go the "XYZ" bar on Saturday night, we were frothing at both mouth and trousers. If German girls were filthy enough not to shave their pits, who knows what other perversions they might get up to ?

The Saturday evening saw the flat we were in get bombarded with near-fatal amounts of Blue Stratos, Brut and god-knows what else as we prepared ourselves to go out and pull for England.

The fact that we were 3 spotty herberts whose pulling power and indeed knowledge of females was all notional didn't stop us all from thinking that Tonight Was The Night.

With our meagre spending money in our pockets, we hailed a cab, which proceeded at light speed to drive us miles, and miles to the club our friend at work had told us about. Our worries about the fare took second place to our thoughts of getting some Fraulein action.

When we got to the club, the admission price was really steep. However, the admission included three drinks, and by this stage we were past caring. We paid most of our hard-earned cash to get in...

...and in the gloom, as we looked around the room, realised that we were the youngest people in there by a good 20 years.

Now, if I had known then, what I know now, that could have been a ticket to sexual nirvana.

As it was - our faces, hearts and dicks fell faster than the twin towers.

We spent all night trying to get the DJ to play something good (fail), found out additional drinks cost a fortune, and went home broken-hearted.

That work experience made me hate the Germans for years. I'm over it now.
( I_Was_Mordred, Wed 8 Apr 2009, 12:39, 1 reply)

What's the matter?
Don't you like The Scorpions or DJ Otzi?


Some people, I don't know....
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Wed 8 Apr 2009, 13:07, closed)