Last one, I promise.
I recently went out for a Friday Night beers, after work, with Ado, a co-worker. Now, I hadn’t been out to a pub for a couple of years, so it was all a bit exciting.

I called my wife, “going out of a couple, be home after dinner”.

Anyway, we had a good feed, had some more beer, got chatting to a rather chunky Indian girl who told us she’d just been out on a blind date earlier that night. We quickly found out that her blind date was another girl, but they didn’t really click, so she was having a quiet solo beer before heading home. Never met a chunky Indian lesbian before, a bit butch, but quite funny.

After a bit of talk, we are all getting on well, chunky Indian girl is buying jugs of beer, we are politely drinking as much of it as we can. Before long, the staff are ushering us out of the pub, it’s closing time.

Fuck, seems like we only just got here. Anyway, chunky Indian girl suggest we head up to another pub, so we stumble out into the night.
We stumble into the next pub, chunky Indian girl orders 3 beers – I take one sip, and an all too familiar sensation grips my throat; I’ve had way too much beer, way too fast, and I’m going to chunder within the next minute.

I stumble outside, and as I pass the greasy spoon all-night cafe, I lay an enormous wet beery chunder all over their front door mat. Nice. Classy.

Fuck, shamed by my own bogan actions, I keep stumbling and duck into a side alley, have another heave and sit down in the gutter. Then I lie down, just for a bit. Just got to get home, need a rest though.

Three hour later, the policeman’s torch is shining my eyes, and a rough boot wakes me up. I sit up, and politely apologise for being such a tragic wreck. They decide not to press charges as I’m obviously fucking hopeless, and give me a lift home in the back of the police van. No windows, hot, airless, it was all I could do to not chunder again.

My wife is more relieved than angry, she presumed I’d been knifed.

The policeman said I was lucky not to have received a good kicking while unconscious in the alley.

Monday morning I turn up at work . Ado says “what happened to you, where did you get to on Friday night?”

I tell him the full tragedy.

“Well mate, I’m glad you left when you did, gave me space to make my move. That chunky Indian chick aint no lesbian”.

Um yeah, thanks mate, you’re welcome...anytime.

I get the paddy wagon, you get the girl.



And, I’m seriously considering a life of sobriety (true). This shit has to stop.
( Ken Oath, Mon 18 Feb 2013, 11:58, 1 reply)

I was waiting for a "Much Ado About Nothing" pun
huh
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Mon 18 Feb 2013, 12:16, closed)