Don't buy drugs from strange blokes in strange pubs
It was the first week back at Uni after the summer holidays, and we'd moved to a new part of town for that year. My flatmate and I wanted to buy some weed and our usual contacts weren't around, so we thought we'd try our luck in a suitably dodgy looking pub.

We purchased a couple of halfs of mild and started to case the joint, trying to see who looked a likely candidate to sell us a 'teenth. Very shortly, we were engaged in a transaction with the 7ft Rasta by the pooltable - he had offered to supply us with a quarter ounce of the very finest sensie money could buy. Result. Only been in town a couple of days and already got us a new main man. We duly handed over twenty quid and waited while he disappeared out the back door to get the gear from his car. We waited. We waited some more. Where had this guy got to? Had he been nicked? Had he got lost? The other guys in the bar were looking at us and sniggering. Fucksticks. We drained our drinks and left hastily. Fuck fuck fuck. Right, don't tell anyone, we'll just keep it a secret. Oh well, live and learn. It's grant money anyway, no matter.

That's not the funny thing though. Happens all the time, I'm sure. No, that's not the funny thing.

The funny thing was, right, a couple of days later, we went back into the same pub, gave the same bloke twenty quid and exactly the same thing happened.

It still comes up from time to time in my therapy sessions, twenty years later.
(se8card, Thu 12 Feb 2009, 7:46, 2 replies)

Why?
Lessons aren't being learned here.....

But i tell ye what, if you paypal me £80, i can do you a full weight, half ounce of white widow.

PRIMO
(Cancer Joy was short lived, Thu 12 Feb 2009, 12:27, closed)

I'll do it for 60 !


seriously though,

fool me once, shame on you,
fool me twice, bloody well asked for it
(The Cats Twat, Thu 12 Feb 2009, 13:24, closed)