» Pubs

Burke and Hare in Edinburgh
I must admit to being slightly surprised that more of the stories on this QoTW are about this den of iniquity.

'Twas my mate X's stagnight, organised by his "irrepressible" mate, Y, who had decided that the standard plot of restaurant, "classy" lapdancing club and boozy parade round all the bars in Edniburgh needed livening up with a trip to the Burke and Hare. As mentioned before, this dive in the pubic triangle area of Edinburgh was a crappy boozer which was magically transformed into a strip joint by dumping an 8x4 sheet of MDF onto the pool table, thus creating an ideal stage for nubile lovelies to parade their delights on.

Anyway, the ladies were gyrating and the exclusively male audience seemed to be enjoying themselves, some displaying this enthusiasm by baying like loons, others by storing their jaws on the floor and, and one particular chap by scratching the itch on his right leg, obviously quite severe as his right hand had, thus far, been permanently stuck in the pocket of his suspiciously stained and flapping mac.

Still, no fights broke out, no-one had killed us and all was well, we figured we'd got away with it, no-one had stabbed us for being English, result, now the ladies had stopped and it was time to leave.

All fine, until the afore-mentioned man in the mac walked up to one of our party, enthused about the quality of the entertainment on offer, and, in parting, patted my mate on the shoulder. With his right hand. Genuinely, one of those "Noooooooooo..........." moments, time appeared to freeze for me as I watched the shaky, sticky hand descend on Dan's shoulder.
(Fri 6th Feb 2009, 17:09, More)

» The Dirty Secrets of Your Trade

0898 numbers (or whatever they are these days )
A dear friend is a professional actress and speech therapist. And not averse to doing the odd bit of tug material for the phone lines.

I must admit to getting very inappropriate feelings down below when she puts on the rather husky "phone" voice.

The feelings being very inappropriate as she's on the far side of 50, so old enough to be my mother.

Length: Depends who I'm calling at the time..
(Tue 2nd Oct 2007, 22:04, More)

» Letters they'll never read

To the kiddy-fiddler of my childhood
Dear Les,

I don't know what made you think that a 12-year-old boy was in dire need of being wanked off, but trust me, it was a bad idea.

At that age, I was a bit confused as to why this strange man decided that I would be interested in Aston Villa, and even more surprised when he started showing me pictures of naked women in showers. I should have known better and, maybe, I don't know, been a bit scared of you, but, at the age of 12, as you were banking on, my sense of danger was not yet developed enough to see you as a twisted paedophile, only as a friendly man who helped out with the cricket team.

When you then took me back to your house, I was too young to have any kind of alarm bells ringing, even when you were stroking my leg in the car. When you then started wanking me off in your front room whilst stood in front of the photos of your family, I had no clue what was going on, and, Christ, you could have had the common decency to stop when I asked you.

The thing is that it took me three years to tell anyone about it, six to tell my parents, and, worst of all, fourteen years to ask a girl out in case I caused anywhere near the pain you did. 25 years later I'm getting married, but I'm scared of having children in case some sick fuck like you fucks their life up.

You're a cunt, Les, I have almost forgiven you, but there is still a small part of me that hopes you will die a protracted and painful death alone, if only in partial payment for the wasted years you have caused in my life and in the lives of your other victims.

With best regards,

nonegiven
(Wed 10th Mar 2010, 18:42, More)