It's a
repost, but it is from five years ago

I used to work in a bar on Oxford Street, and we had a rather unpleasant australian chef, to whom I shall refer as Oz.

He had worked for my boss at a number of different places for a number of years. My boss, a cockney chap referred to as The Whelk, for some reason maintained his employment despite his mediocre ability and unpleasant personal habits, which included, and I quote, shagging 'literally dozens of whores'.

I heard this tale second hand from a few people, and from both Oz and The Whelk. Imagine, if you will, a tatty dirty pub in a provincial town to the west of London. It is morning, and The Whelk ambles through the kitchen towards the back door, greets a hungover Oz. Oz grunts back. The Whelk is about to go outside.

"I brought a whore back last night and used one of the big snags on her. I put it back so it won't effect the stock.", says Oz

The Whelk looks puzzled. He is easily bamboozled by exotic slang. 'Snag'? Still, it didn't affect the stock, so didn't matter.

"Yeah, whatever Oz."
The Whelk ambles off, liberally slopping his coffee, as was his wont.

Later that afternoon, the Whelk enters the kitchen, for several meals need to be delivered to a table. They were a Lasagne, a Toad in the Hole, and an all-day breakfast, consisting of eggs, bacon, a jumbo sausage, beans, fried bread and a tomato. The Whelk takes the food and goes to leave

"that is the last of the big snags for the breakfasts, so from now on they'll have to get two small ones"

The Whelk nods and leaves. He deposits the food with the diners and walks away. Then a penny dropped. 'Snag'.

The Whelk re-enters the kitchen.

"Oz, what did you say this morning? About Snags."
"That I used one of the big boys on a hooker last night. Put it back though."
"Used?"
Oz explains, in detail, how he had used a seven inch frozen sausage to masturbate a middle aged prostitute.
The Whelk's jaw drops.
"You put it back?"
"Don't worry. I used it."
Oz pulls the empty cardboard box from the freezer, that had contained the large sausages.
"Sold the last half dozen today. We need to order some more."

The Whelk's jaw drops further. His brain stores a grotesque story for after work drinks.

At some point, on that day many years ago, a diner in that tatty pub somewhere to the west of London received a breakfast which included a sausage garnished with the juices of a lady of the night's vag. And they probably ate it.

I would make a poor joke about 'batter' here. But I won't.
(cs1ca, Mon 21 May 2012, 21:01, 2 replies)

snagglepuss
click
( lucosade is counting down the minutes until, Tue 22 May 2012, 9:57, closed)

Jabberjaw.
The Hair Bear Bunch.
( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Tue 22 May 2012, 10:27, closed)