Brown Marker
Shane was a big lad. A very big lad. Built like a concrete shithouse, he'd captained the regional team back in Ireland when he was younger and a mere six foot seven. Our hypothesis, therefore, was that one too many scrums to the head had knocked out what little judgement and wisdom he had. Shane could be told anything - anything at all - and so long as you kept a straight face he'd take it as sworn truth.

I first met Shane a few years ago during my fresher year at uni through some mutual friends down the local student gaffe. He was in full Arsenal gear, sipping at a pint of Guinness while his deity team were getting crushed by whoever they were playing (I don't do football). 85 minutes in and the reds are down 3-0. At this point I get a tap on my shoulder from Shane asking if this meant Arsenal would lose the match.

I had to stop for a second to make sure he wasn't pulling my leg. Now, I'm a firm believer that if you ask someone a stupid question, you should expect a very stupid answer in return. This was prime opportunity in my eyes.

'Na mate, the premier league works like Eufa.'
'What do you mean?' he slurred. The booze was kicking in.
'Well, you know how they play legs in the Champion's League, and whoever has the higest score after 2 games goes through? It's the same here. Arsenal beat them 4-0 last time, so as long as they don't conceed again, they win.'

Without so much as a whiff of doubt, he cracked a huge smile and returned to the match. When the whistle was blown, all 15 stone of Ireland's finest leapt onto the table in full celebration, which resulted in every non-Arsenal fan simultaneously cracking up.

So you could say he was a bit gulliable, but nonetheless Shane became a firm associate of mine during our pub adventures as I had the innate ability to warp his perceptions without hint of remorse. The fellow publicans adored these fool thoughts of his, and we'd all chip in with the corruption.

One night, on our ninth or tenth pint the conversation inevitably turned to the ladykind, where a confession slipped that Shane had never 'dunked his tortilla chip', as he put it. Well then, let's get that sorted. I knew (from friends and not personal experience, obviously), a very seedy little strip bar in a back alley, which we concluded would be a good place to pick up loose women. A swift one for the road, and off we fucked.

Many eye candy performances by the girls later, and Shane has his eyes fixed on Poison Ivy (not original, I know), a redhead in school uniform not unknown for her toying with classroom equipment. As part of her routine, an old-fashioned chunky marker pen would, well, take a detour down the dirt road for the paying eyes of the viewer while Schools Out blared in the corner (not original, I know). After 'relieving' herself, the pen in its newfound brown glory is hurled off the stage, into the eager lap of Shane. It was not a pretty sight. An explosion of rage was expected as his jeans now embraced a much darker colour. Not a look of anger in sight, but one of hope.

'Foxy, mate, what do you think this means? Have I pulled?'

Again, let's see how much bull I can throw at Shane without cracking.

'Well Shane, you know how when a bride throws the bouquet, the person who catches it is the next to get married? Whoever catches the stripper's sex toy is the next one to fuck her'

That gleaming look reappeared. That gleaming look which meant no question was raised of my explanation. With all the charm of 12 or so pints, Shane leaps from his chair to clamber onto the stage, whips his cock out while gesturing the universal sign for making the beast with two backs. Ivy responds with a perfectly pitched slap to the face while two heavies attempt to bundle Ireland's finest. They fail and all hell breaks loose like an old Western as Shane levels most of the furniture, meat and veg swinging in the rage.

And that, my friends, is what Shane fool thinks Ivy dung with a pen is.

Oh, so Pooflake can and I can't?
(FoxyBadger (try saying it backwards), Fri 13 Mar 2009, 9:47, 7 replies)

Click
Had me for way too long there
(arnold sideways, Fri 13 Mar 2009, 9:57, closed)

Indeed
perhaps I just know some odd sorts but it seemed fairly plausible.
(LittleKitty, Fri 13 Mar 2009, 12:13, closed)

Ha!
Nice work!
( SpankyHanky, Fri 13 Mar 2009, 10:01, closed)

OK...
I was going to do my pun, but I'll hang back for a couple of days, I think.

It's the sort of linguistic contortionism that would do Suzie Dent proud.
( ousgg is not seeking approval, Fri 13 Mar 2009, 10:04, closed)

haha
i like!
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Fri 13 Mar 2009, 10:53, closed)

You Sir
Are a cunt of the highest order.



This ranks as quite possibly the best pun ever.
( MatJ LOOK, Fri 13 Mar 2009, 17:10, closed)

Click
Outstanding
(onefishtwofish Redfishbluefish, Fri 13 Mar 2009, 19:21, closed)