Amsterdam
The most shameful episode of my life.

I'd gone to Amsterdam on a stag do where the usual shenanigans were indulged in (although I passed on the banana bar - what exactly is the attraction in paying 50Euros to watch a ropey harlot pleasure herself with fruit?). Somehow I'd got separated from everyone else and I found myself, just as the mushrooms started kicking in and everything went sepia, somewhere near the Heineken museum.

Suddenly, I wasn't in Amsterdam anymore - I was in Schindler's list. There were crowds of people everywhere, and in the distance approaching me was a little girl, hand clasped in her mother's, her little red coat the only non-sepia object in my vision. I stopped, stared, mouth agape, and then promptly vomited on her as she passed.

And then I realised what I'd done and ran away. For shame.
( rofl harris, Fri 8 Jan 2010, 9:33, 1 reply)

The Banana Bar
was extremely educational in the field of what I've chosen to call "ballistic dildonics". Also "vaginal calligraphy".
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Fri 8 Jan 2010, 9:40, closed)