Bad Dog ! ! !

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaa Haaaaaayyyyyyyyyy!!!!

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaa Haaaaaayyyyyyyyyy!!!!

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

Woooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

This is the sound you'd have heard spewing out of a certain pub in Manchester circa 1993-96.

It was my local, a lovely little place named The Cattlemarket. One of the fellas who endured us stinky student types and ventured into the place for his evening constitutional was an old boy with a dog. A great big fucking powerful Alsatian dog.

Now, this dog had a very special trick that I've never seen any other dog perform in my long and illustrious career of pub-going since.

Allow me to explain...

Picture the scene...

A row of pissed students armed with cameras lining one side of the pub, cameras poised and ready.

A young lady walks in for a quick drink before going off clubbing to one of the God-awful 2 Unlimited-playing clubs that pocked that great city like a terrible disease at the time.

The young lady would go to the bar and order a drink.

And the old boy with the Alsatian would give the signal to the dog, who would leave his place at his master's side, pad over behind the young girl and...

...very quickly jump up, grasp the back of the girl's skirt in his teeth, and pull down...

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaa Haaaaaayyyyyyyyyy!!!!

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

Jesus, I must've had the most extensive photo collection of girls arses in the entire Greater Manchester area...
( SpankyHanky, Fri 6 Feb 2009, 10:44, 1 reply)

Ha
It seems like it's probably a good thing that we never run into each other in Manchester.

I got into enough trouble without people like you to encourage me.

Although I wouldn't have minded seeing your photo album.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Fri 6 Feb 2009, 10:52, closed)