Lies that got out of control
Ever claimed you could speak a foreign language to impress friends, colleagues and/or get laid? Make a twat of yourself - and I couldn't possibly comment - saying you were the godson of the chairman of BP? Tell us how your porkies have caught up with you
(Thanks to augsav and Sandettie Light Vessel Automatic for the suggestions)
( , Thu 12 Aug 2010, 13:03)
Ever claimed you could speak a foreign language to impress friends, colleagues and/or get laid? Make a twat of yourself - and I couldn't possibly comment - saying you were the godson of the chairman of BP? Tell us how your porkies have caught up with you
(Thanks to augsav and Sandettie Light Vessel Automatic for the suggestions)
( , Thu 12 Aug 2010, 13:03)
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The Magical Irish Bow Tie
pearoast...
First of all, I have to applaud the Huddersfield University Events team for organising the most dreary, pathetic graduation ball in the history of time.
The only reason I had decided to go was because I had been trying to get my end away with the most beautiful blonde angel by the name of Suzanne. Id stare at her in Lectures for hours on end and when she asked if I'd go to the Grad ball with her, I was never gonna miss it.
A plate of crap food and a few too many nerve calming shots of cheap vodka later, I was on the dancefloor, doing my thing.
Suzanne clearly wasnt impressed with my moves and was staring at me like I was a demented rapist on acid.
And when she left with another man, I had 2 choices. Sit in the corner and sulk or round up some troops and go to Camel Club. The latter it was.
Earlier on in the night I had closley resembled a Fine Gentleman in my hired Tuxedo but now I looked more like a pengiun that had narrowly escaped the claws of a yeti. My kind mates, took measures to straighten me up in an attempt to get my stumbling ass past the beady eyed bouncers.
Not only did my perfectly straight bow tie, get me past the bouncers but it also seems that tuxedo's and drunk women on dancefloors are like moths and flames. A few pints later and enjoying the female attention, out of the smoke and from deep within the club, i saw a large silloute approaching.
This huge Troll promptly walks up to me and in the prettiest of Irish accents squeaks "caan oiy weear yoour tiy?"
Until this day, I do not know why but my retort came in the most outrageous faux Irish accent that sounded more like a scottish/northern irish hybrid and in the highest tone "suuure"
We had a lenghty conversation about growing up in our respective irish towns and even though I was brn and raised in rural surrey, I had gathered enough knowledge and shaping of irish words from my NI flatmates; I could pull it off.
After a long tonguing session in the club we left to go back to hers. How she didnt expose my dodgy accent away from the noisy club, I still don't know
When during the act, she exclaimed she, and I quote, "Loikes t be noisy" i felt the need to join in.
I can tell you that there is no dignity in shouting "JESUS CHROIST" at the top of your lungs in a fake irish accent, still wearing a bow tie.
Unable to keep up the act, I left at the earliest opportunity and unable to escape the from under her bridge, had to scale the fence and broke my foot on the descent.
I spent the next day in hospital with a huge hangover and an even worse sense of shame.
( , Mon 16 Aug 2010, 12:06, Reply)
pearoast...
First of all, I have to applaud the Huddersfield University Events team for organising the most dreary, pathetic graduation ball in the history of time.
The only reason I had decided to go was because I had been trying to get my end away with the most beautiful blonde angel by the name of Suzanne. Id stare at her in Lectures for hours on end and when she asked if I'd go to the Grad ball with her, I was never gonna miss it.
A plate of crap food and a few too many nerve calming shots of cheap vodka later, I was on the dancefloor, doing my thing.
Suzanne clearly wasnt impressed with my moves and was staring at me like I was a demented rapist on acid.
And when she left with another man, I had 2 choices. Sit in the corner and sulk or round up some troops and go to Camel Club. The latter it was.
Earlier on in the night I had closley resembled a Fine Gentleman in my hired Tuxedo but now I looked more like a pengiun that had narrowly escaped the claws of a yeti. My kind mates, took measures to straighten me up in an attempt to get my stumbling ass past the beady eyed bouncers.
Not only did my perfectly straight bow tie, get me past the bouncers but it also seems that tuxedo's and drunk women on dancefloors are like moths and flames. A few pints later and enjoying the female attention, out of the smoke and from deep within the club, i saw a large silloute approaching.
This huge Troll promptly walks up to me and in the prettiest of Irish accents squeaks "caan oiy weear yoour tiy?"
Until this day, I do not know why but my retort came in the most outrageous faux Irish accent that sounded more like a scottish/northern irish hybrid and in the highest tone "suuure"
We had a lenghty conversation about growing up in our respective irish towns and even though I was brn and raised in rural surrey, I had gathered enough knowledge and shaping of irish words from my NI flatmates; I could pull it off.
After a long tonguing session in the club we left to go back to hers. How she didnt expose my dodgy accent away from the noisy club, I still don't know
When during the act, she exclaimed she, and I quote, "Loikes t be noisy" i felt the need to join in.
I can tell you that there is no dignity in shouting "JESUS CHROIST" at the top of your lungs in a fake irish accent, still wearing a bow tie.
Unable to keep up the act, I left at the earliest opportunity and unable to escape the from under her bridge, had to scale the fence and broke my foot on the descent.
I spent the next day in hospital with a huge hangover and an even worse sense of shame.
( , Mon 16 Aug 2010, 12:06, Reply)
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