Not me but a mate.
Set the scene:
I'm in bed one saturday morning, about 7.30am. I get a phone call from my chronicaly drunk pal James.

Me:"What the fuck you bastard, it's 7.30 in the morning"
James:"Yeh, but mate, I'm in trouble"
Me:"Again, what this time?"
James:"I'm at work (he worked in a hotel) in a room and theres a whore in the bed"
Me:"Fuck, is she dead?"
James:"No, but I said I'd pay £300 for the night, I've only got £3.10"
Me:"Well....."
James:"Can you lend me some"
Me:"Fuck off, do a runner, and I'll catch up with you later"
James:"But she'll tell someone"
Me:"Oh yeh, like she'll grass herself up for being a whore"
James:"Good point, see you at yours in 20 mins"
Me:"What the f...."

Cue later that day down the pub, James's phone rings, he answers and goes a colour somewhere between green and purple:
me:"Er, what's up?"
James:"That was work, I'm fired...apparantly I claimed to be the hotel manager and left a prostitute in a room and fucked off without paying...worse still, I stole her fags"
me:"Shit"
James:"I've got to go pick up my stuff and my p45"
me:"Tough break"
James:"Yeh, my mum's the accountant"

Appologies for length, but not girth.
( Mastic, Tue 24 Jan 2006, 9:42, Reply)