Topless barmaids and sex shows aplenty...

Many years ago, I was out on the piss in Nottingham with an old mate and his buddies. My mate was a chap called ‘Maxi’.

Maxi was a ‘cheeky chappie’ type, a bit short with thinning hair but definitely a loveable rogue. His legendary appetite for the ladies however, was as rampant as a rabid, randy, rutting rhinoceros who had ram-raided a raucous, revelling rave...for rapists.

Anyway, we found ourselves trawling through town looking for a particular pub…Maxi had heard about this place having a certain ‘Je ne sais Quoi’, which I quickly discovered was to imply: ‘has puddles of tits, and more fanny than a gaggle of women called Fanny, showing their fannies, at a fanny convention.’

Eventually, after straying slightly off the beaten track, we found the place. Even now, I find it difficult to find the words to describe it. A bog-standard, spit ‘n’ sawdust grot-hole of a pub, scattered with average no-hoper old men, and dull, unkempt décor like a derelict building minutes away from either demolition or being sucked into the seventh layer of Hell. If I had to some it up in one word, that word would be ‘Eeeuwww’.

But there was one notable exception. The barmaid.

She was stunning…A Goddess. Brown curly hair down that stretched down her back, eyes like a shimmering emerald heaven …and she was topless...wearing nothing but a lovely lace negligee that she had pulled down revealing a sublime figure, and such large, pert, pendulous breasts that they would have left even Hugh Hefner gasping in admiration, before putting both hands in his pockets, rummaging around a bit, then having a quick shufty off the wrist.

The next bit will not be what you expect.

To me, it was one of the most non-erotic experiences of my life. It really did not matter a jot how beautiful or sexy this woman was, it did not detract from the foul surroundings and general sleaziness of the atmosphere. All I could think about was: ‘What problems must this poor delicate flower suffer from, if she had to resort to this to earn a meagre living?’

I got the round in and we sat down on the squelchy, rickety seats. My attention was then drawn towards a pool table with a filthy, stain-strewn mattress lobbed on top of it. This was going to be the ‘stage’ for the night’s ‘performance’ (which consisted of a very bored looking naked 50-something woman with tits like Spaniel's ears, inserting general apparatus into her capacious orifices). I shuddered, genuinely feeling more embarrassed and awkward than horny.

However, my simian companions were not quite as uncomfortable as I was in the surroundings.

“PHWWWOOOOOARRR!” They roared in unison, in between wolf whistles, tongues hanging out and high-fives briefly interspersed with picking fleas off each other and dragging knuckles across the ground.

Somehow, amongst the filth and degradation. Maxi managed to pull in this place. In what seemed about eight seconds after our walking in, he was swapping sloppy saliva in the corner with some suspiciously-young looking Scottish girl. It was one of the quickest and most unbelievable acts of 'firing in' I have ever witnessed.

Up close.

Maxi and this girl soon disappeared from my view, and as my seal was eventually broken I decided to venture towards the bogs area – making a mental note to not touch anything that looked remotely sticky…in other words…everything.

I followed the signs and wandered down a narrow corridor, at the end of which, through the murky gloom I recognised the back of a figure that I could tell was Maxi, but strangely that was all I could make out. One thing was for certain however, his hips were thrusting back and forth with a verve and technique I haven’t seen since the video for ‘Slam Dunk Da Funk’…

As I approached the toilets I still couldn’t really make out what was going on…it was only when I was about 10 feet away and I noticed a trailing bare leg, and began to make out the shape of the chubby young Scottish lass bent over the pinball machine.

My suspicions were finally realised when I heard the words in a whimpering Highland drawl: “Will you stop trying to stick it up there?…It hurts!” as Maxi pumped away enthusiastically whilst grunting like an asthmatic version of ‘Captain Caveman’

Toilet dwellers were just walking by the proceedings as if nothing was happening. I turned on my heels and returned to my table. As far as I was concerned, my piss could wait.

Maxi told me later that the girl was 17 years old. He was proud. I was ashamed.

I can’t recall the name of the pub. It’s probably for the best.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Fri 6 Feb 2009, 15:05, 8 replies)

Sounds like a really classy joint
Must take the good lady there sometime.

*clicks*
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Fri 6 Feb 2009, 15:09, closed)

*whistles*
"He's a pinball wizard"

*grins*
( Cawl, Fri 6 Feb 2009, 15:21, closed)

He may well have been...

I just didn't want to see what he was doing with his wand.

Actually, as an afterthought...I was round his house recently, and he's actually bought a pinball machine and it's set up in his garage.

All makes sense now.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Fri 6 Feb 2009, 15:23, closed)

funny story
Kaol's reply is funnier though.

Clicked them both.
(bazmorningstar efil4nat3b, Fri 6 Feb 2009, 15:22, closed)

Haha!
I was debating posting it...
But I've now got that song stuck in my head, so thought I'd share.
( Cawl, Fri 6 Feb 2009, 15:38, closed)

you cant do that
and then not tell us the name of the pub, having said that seeing as im a hell of a long way away from nottingham now i suppose it doesnt really matter
(pogo_it, Fri 6 Feb 2009, 15:26, closed)

Oh, alright then...
For you, I'll try and find out.

Watch this space.

EDIT: I called my mate, and he only knew the pub under the name 'The Swinging Tit'...

That can't be right...besides I've googled that...and you can't imagine what it came up with

now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to be alone for a few minutes ;)
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Fri 6 Feb 2009, 15:29, closed)

Please do....
....as is sounds like the sort of place where someone as aesthetically displeasing as me could pull...maybe.
( The Pollitt chooses to listen to Enya on, Fri 6 Feb 2009, 15:37, closed)