With Valentine's Day just round the corner, a heart-warming tale for you on this Friday the 13th.My old mate Baz had a bit of a problem with quality control. While I was picky about the young ladies (and rarely got a date as a result), Baz was only interested in dipping his wick, and would shag a barbershop floor given half the chance.
So, it was hardly a surprise that he turned up at a party with an older woman on his arm. Older? He was 19. She was 48, which - coincidentally - was also her bust size. Oh, mama!
"Good grief, Baz," I remonstrated, cornering him in the kitchen later that evening, "Where did you get her?"
"Grab-a-granny night", he replied, with the telling rejoinder: "Gives me something to practice on."
And practice on her he did, for they became the annoying-couple-at-the-party-having-sex-in-the-bedroom-on-top-of-the-pile-of-coats-while-you're-not-getting-any.
It was a couple of years before I ran into Baz again, this time at a wild student party in which ale and vomit flowed freely.
"Hey Baz!" I slurred, "Wha'happened to that fat old moose you were boffin' a couple o' years ago?"
"We're married."
*boilk*
And: "Oh, congratulations!"
And: *BOILK*
As far as I know, they're still together. Bless.
No comments:
Post a Comment