The dirty, dirty bushes...
A couple of weeks ago, in the QOTW, I mentioned working in the Aladdin's Cave takeaway in Padiham in the early 90s. Seems I'm not the only one who remembers it, as I got a couple of messages from surviving patrons of that particular food-poisoning emporium. This was odd, as I was sure we'd killed them all with the lamentable hygiene standards of that place.

Anyway, the takeaway was open until well after the pubs shut, so we didn't get home until late. One night I was walking up the hill to my house at about 1 AM when I heard a noise coming from off to my side. Peering through the gloom, I was slightly taken aback to see a pair of shiny white buttocks rising and falling under a bush, its luminous and globular appearance like a reflection of the full moon overhead. This guy clearly knew how to woo a girl. I know this was before the days of affordable European city-breaks, but a bush? Right next to the road? Classy.

And the thing is, as I watched Casanova's cheeks pound away, in all probability spawning a child who would be about 16 now, all I could think about was that my dog had done a big sloppy crap in that bush just that morning, and that the poor girl he was bouncing on must have the whole Cornish Cream Kidney nicely smeared up her arse-crack by now.

As I say: classy.
( Olembe Refuses to write in this space, Fri 12 Oct 2007, 15:30, Reply)