It was a cold Sunday in January Several years ago
Myself and my two brothers decided to go out on a sunday session around Birmingham's balti belt. The pubs are admittedly a little rough, but this is where we grew up.

We started after the Sunday league match and continued on all day and by about 9pm, we were just leaving a Sikh-run pub after dancing to Bhangra music for the last hour. We were extremely drunk.

Halfway up the road, my brother declares loudly that he 'needs an Eartha Kitt' and then sneaks off into a carpark. We then wait for him and a few minutes later he returns with his hands caked in shit. When asked what happened, he tells us he forgot to take his underpants off and had filled them up like a nappy. He then panicked and had to tear them off either side at the seams.

We then burst into laughter and called him all the stupid names imaginable. He took umbrage at this and then started to chase us up the Ladypool Road swinging his pants around his head slingshot-style like a feacal version of the Palestinian intifada.

My eldest brother, then and now, was a man of considerable weight -a fat bastard in modern parlance- ran like someone half his weight and proved the principle that you run faster when someone is chasing you. The only thing slowing us was the laughter. The chasing brother then released the bolas of turds which flew over our heads and slapped right onto the window of one of the more popular balti-houses in birmingham.

The shit-infested pants then stuck to the window...and then slowly crawled down the window leaving a turd trail. My brother swears to this day that he saw someone vomiting in the restaurant.

Cue two Kashmiri gentleman chasing my brother with large kebab skewers swearing in Urdu (having grown up here I could swear fluently) who in turn is chasing us with shitty fingers.

We hid in a local park till they went away and made our brother hose himself down in the garden of our mother's when we got back. My mother made him throw all his clothes away.

Happy days.
(occasionallyfunny, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 15:29, 3 replies)

'Myself' is a reflexive pronoun;
you talk to me, I talk to myself. Your first sentence should have read 'two brothers and I'.
( Bob Todd whee, Tue 1 Apr 2008, 20:05, closed)

Why bother?
Stop being a pedant. It's a funny story.
(ProudClod, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 1:36, closed)

click
"feacal version of the Palestinian intifada"

genius!
(twiceydrinker hmmm is it pint time?, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 9:29, closed)