THE ANGRY FUZZY BLACK BEE
“It’s pretty straightforward,” I explained to the two lads who were part of my A-Level economics course just prior to stepping out on stage to run through our end of term project about the law of diminishing returns*. As the gobshite of the group I got to sit back and do fuck all while they came up with the presentation. All I had to do was present the fucker when they'd finished. The two lads sat silently pissing themselves at the thought of having to stand out onstage infront of a class of kids and a teacher they already knew, so I continued, attempting to put them at ease: “No, it’s really straightforward. What you do is lay on your back with your head touching the wall. Then you lift your legs up and sort of walk down the wall until you’re cock’s tickling your lips. You can start working on the tip and take it from there, and after you’ve been in that position for a few minutes you can manage to get a little bit lower and – hey presto! – you’ve got your dick in your mouth. I did it last night. The only problem is what to do when you shoot your load. I ended up with spunk all over my face. That was a bit weird. Didn’t taste too bad though, don’t know what Rachel’s complaining about. Anyway – shall we get on with this?” And I lifted up the paperwork, the empty beer cans for the demonstration, and walked out on stage.

The class looked wide eyed. My sixth form girlfriend, Rachel Andrews, sat hiding her face which was turning an interesting shade of purple. Rachel looked like she wanted to stick her hand down my throat and pull out my still beating heart. The teacher, Mr Grisley, a London lad who liked a bit of a laugh, was pissing himself laughing: “You’re miked up, Spanky,” he said. And I looked down at my shirt and there it was like an angry fuzzy black bee – the mike. Bugger! Mr Grisley continued: “Shall we get started, ehh? Oh, by the way – as much as I'd like to you won’t be getting any additional credits for the information you’ve given us so far...”


*As we’d just turned eighteen it involved beer. Loads of cans of beer (they were empty, the college I went to was modern but not that modern). It went like this: if you have one pint you feel great, two you still feel good and have an almost equal return for your hard earned dosh. But by the time you’re onto your tenth drink the beer still costs the same but it doesn’t taste too great and you’re more likely to attempted to chat up the barmaid with the immortal line: “My face would look great with facial hair, fancy coming back to mine and we'll experiment – you bring the curly black beard,” while wiggling your eyebrows suggestively. Though, strangely, our presentation didn’t feature this line...
( SpankyHanky, Wed 19 Aug 2009, 16:04, 3 replies)

that's awful
ly hilarious. how did you not notice your voice was amplified? was it just nerves?
(tuqueboy has been in a medically -induced coma since, Wed 19 Aug 2009, 18:24, closed)

Did you
not factor in the amount of laughs you get after the tenth pint?
( Amberl was stripey and dominated Europe, Wed 19 Aug 2009, 20:46, closed)

Most importantly
how long did your relationship last after that?!
( greedyostrich Cheese is evil! Cheddar is VOODOO!, Wed 19 Aug 2009, 20:53, closed)