Tag Archives: rude

Nightclub Shoes

30 Jul

I really hate it when bars and clubs refuse entry based on the type of footwear somebody chooses to wear. What difference does it make if you’re wearing trainers or shoes? I often snub such places that have this rule in place, but it was at a club in Brighton that I had to give into this self-imposed ban, because the rest of the group wanted to go to a certain bar.
We queued up for ages before we eventually got to the entrance. I made pleasantries with the bouncers and walked through, along with my mates, into the busy club. First stop, as always, was the bar. We waited to be served, looking out for any quality ‘fanny’ that we could try and chat up later on in the evening. Mark felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.


“Meatball’s just sent me a text. He’s outside, he’s worn trainers and the bouncers won’t let him in. What a daft cunt.”


The rest of the group muttered a collective ‘for fuck sake’ and decided on a course of action. The plan we came up with was simple: We’d ask someone in the club for their shoes, get Meatball to put them on, get Meatball in the club, and then he could return the shoes to their owner, before slipping his trainers back on. It couldn’t fail, we were sure of it.


Jimmy spotted one bloke standing on his own at the other end of the bar. He was wearing a black leather jacket, and had thick greasy hair. Most importantly, he was wearing shoes, and looked about Meatball’s size. Jimmy and Mark wandered over to him.


“Excuse me mate, this may sound a bit weird, but can we borrow your shoes? Our mate needs them to get in. We’ll buy you a few drinks and you’ll get them straight back”


The greasy chap agreed almost straight away; no persuasion was required at all. He slipped off his shoes and handed them to Jimmy. They were ghastly, like the chunky black shoes shoes that I was forced to wear to school. Jimmy slipped them inside his jacket and we all went back to the entrance of the club. Meatball was still there, pleading with the bouncers to let him in but they were having none of it. Jimmy got his hand stamped so he could get back in, whilst the rest of us stood just outside the entrance in the smoking area.


Jimmy led Meatball away and round the corner.


“Here, have these”, he said, handing Meatball the shoes.


“Fucking brilliant! Cheers Jim!” Meatball quickly slipped the shoes on, they were a perfect fit. Not as fashion conscious as the rest of us, Meatball really didn’t care that they looked like retard shoes. He handed Jimmy his trainers, and once again, Jimmy concealed these inside his jacket and they returned to the front of the queue.With a massive grin on his face, meatball strode up to the bouncers.


“My mate just dropped my shoes off, so can I come in now?”


“Piss off, mate. You’re not coming in, you were lippy before”.


Meatball’s grin quickly disappeared and we all wondered what we were going to do. It didn’t take long for us to decide -we all left the club immediately, we couldn’t leave a mate outside on his own. It wasn’t until we got to the next bar that we’d realised what we’d done. Meatball still had the shoes on; the shoes that we’d borrowed off of some poor bloke in the club. He was still in there, just in his socks, probably looking like a complete weirdo. I like to think that he remained in the same spot for the rest of the night, with his socks getting stuck to the spilt alcohol on the club floor. We did feel bad, for a second or so. The shoes were dropped in a bin, before we carried on with our evening.

Wardrobe Wank

28 Jul

Jimmy and Dave are dirty fuckers. Although they are mates of mine, I sometimes cringe at some of their behavior on nights out, particularly when they involve the opposite sex in their antics. It is no secret amongst my group of friends that Jimmy and Dave like to go ‘twos-up’ on girls. One of them will meet someone on a night out, invite them back for some horizontal liaisons, and then invite their mate to join in. It shocks me really at how many girls agree to this. Quite why Jimmy and Dave want to share their spoils with one another is anyone’s guess, but I suppose it goes to show how close they are as mates. They always regale their frolics to us the following day, and the story normally involves them hi-fiving each other at some point. Very romantic.
One particular night, Dave had got lucky with a brunette girl and had invited her back to his hotel for sex. She must have been pissed because she agreed to, and at the end of the night, Dave, Jimmy and the girl made their way back to the hotel at which the two boys were staying. Dave had taken a massive shine to this girl, and he’d made it clear to Jimmy that he wasn’t up for sharing, which wasn’t normally in his character at all. He’d met her the previous night, and although nothing had happened, he had spotted her again, chanced his luck, and scored. Now he wanted her all to himself, and no matter how much Jimmy pleaded with him on the way back, Dave wasn’t considering even asking the girl if she’d be up for it.

Although unimpressed by his mate’s lack of generosity, Jimmy agreed to wander around the hotel for a bit, whilst the two lovers got it on – the problem you see, was that they were sharing a room and therefore Dave would have no privacy. When they arrived back at the hotel, the three of them had a drink at the bar, before Dave and his beauty retreated to the bedroom. Jimmy agreed to wait at least an hour before returning, and he stayed at the bar on his own, feeling horny but with no one to help relieve the tension.
Back in the hotel room, things got saucy as soon as the newly acquainted pair fell through the door, and within no time they were rutting like animals; both working up a sweat as they let their inhibitions go. Being drunk, Dave was surprised that he’d actually managed to get an erection, but now he was firm, there was no stopping him and he found himself lasting longer than he’d ever done before. The recipient of his clunge rod was certainly not complaining, and her bacon pocket begged Dave for more and more.
Before long, both Dave and the girl were so hot that they needed to open the patio doors, which led out onto a small balcony. The room was on the top floor of the hotel, so there was little danger of anyone seeing Dave as he slid the doors open with nothing protecting his modesty. As he opened the door, Dave had a brainwave. He called over his lover and asked if she fancied a spot of alfresco sex. She didn’t hesitate and sauntered over to the balcony railing, before grabbing them, bending over so her cunny flaps were winking at Dave.
“Take me from behind”, she ordered.
Dave didn’t need to be asked twice, and he held her by the hips before entering her. This was turning out to be one of the best shags of his life.

Meanwhile, Jimmy was sat downstairs, very drunk and bored. He had looked at his watch about a hundred times, waiting for an hour to pass so he could go back to the room and get to bed. ‘They best not have done it in my bed’ he thought to himself, although secretly he didn’t mind because at least he’d be able to sniff the sheets. Eventually, after finishing his forth pint in the hotel, over an hour had passed and Jimmy decided to venture back.
When he reached the door to the room, he put his ear to it. He couldn’t hear much and guessed that Dave had finished his business and was asleep. He turned the key in the door and opened it very slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible. The first thing he saw was his bed, and he noticed that it was as fresh as how he’d left it. Then he noticed that Dave’s bed was also empty. Looking further ahead of him, Jimmy saw the reason why; Dave’s bare backside was thrusting in and out as he pumped away like a Jack Russell on heat. Jimmy was suddenly turned on at what he was witnessing.

Out on the balcony, Dave was oblivious that he had been caught in the act and carried on with the job in hand, savoring every moment. Just as he was about to spray his milky treat, he heard a noise behind him, coming from inside the room. Without breaking his stride, he peered over his shoulder.

What he saw was a sight he would never be able to forget, no matter how much he tried.

Jimmy was stood just inside the door frame, against the wall. He was partially covered by a curtain but Dave could see that he was leaning against the side of a wardrobe and visibly having a wank, aiming his todger at the gap between the wall and the back of the wardrobe. Dave didn’t say a word; he just braced himself for his own climax and let out a groan of pleasure as he spilt his load. Too afraid, to traipse back inside and confront his mate, Dave was at a loss as to what to do. From behind, he hugged the girl he’d just rogered, grateful that she was unaware what was happening behind them, whilst thinking about what he should do next. Now they’d finished shagging, it was getting quite cold.

Again, Dave peered over his shoulder, and this time the scene wasn’t as bad as expected. Jimmy had finished his wank and was now crashed out on his own bed, so Dave suggested to his bit of skirt that they retire to bed, to which she agreed. She noticed Jimmy as soon as she walked through the door; it was hard not to as he was spread out like a starfish, face down, with his trousers and boxer shorts still pulled down around his ankles. Dave had to reassure her that Jimmy was so drunk he wouldn’t have even noticed them outside.
The next morning, once Dave had ushered his conquest out of the hotel room, he woke Jimmy and asked him what the fuck he was playing at the night before. Jimmy’s head was pounding and his mind was hazy and he struggled to remember much. Dave told him to think hard whilst he went and showered. Ten minutes later, Dave emerged from the bathroom.
“Dave”, said Jimmy.
“Yes mate?”
“Did I have a wank behind the wardrobe last night?
“You know you did you dirty fucker! Why did you do that?”
“I don’t know. I thought it was a dream”
“You are a sick bastard”.

Jimmy has managed to refrain from wanking behind wardrobes since the incident, but one does wonder why he chose such a place to aim his pecker. What a strange man.

Old Sayings

1 Jul

It is remarkable at how many old sayings and proverbs I can remember:


– Home is where the house is
– Never look a gift horse in the anus
– A little of what you fancy makes you fat
– A poor workman always blames his Polish understudy
– Actions speak louder than words, for the deaf community
– Don’t count your chickens in one basket
– Laugh and the world laughs with you, weep and you’re an emo
– See a pin and pick it up, careful you don’t cut your finger


I could go on. So many sayings, and I still remember them from growing up.


Sometimes these old sayings can prove useless; they just use up valuable storage space in my mind. Other times however, things happen in life, and it gives me the chance to use one of the sayings that I still remember. Take last week for example.
I saw a woman in Tesco, struggling to control her kids. She looked really stressed and at breaking point. Then she accidently knocked over a carton of milk and it exploded all over the aisle floor.


She dropped to her knees and burst into tears, surrounded by spilled milk. It reminded me of something my dad used to say to my mum, a saying I still remember, so I walked over to her and said; “Get a fucking grip, you stupid bitch.”


Ahhhh, old sayings.

The Ballet Shoe

8 Dec

When in my early teens, my brother and I would often camp out in a tent – in our own back garden. Quite why we wanted to do this, I’m not sure, after all, sleeping in a tent is one of the most uncomfortable experiences a man can have, alongside snapping ones frenulum and being caught mid-wank. It always started off as a good idea, asking my mum if we could set the tent up and if we could have friends to stay round. We’d plan to stay up all night, enjoying a midnight feast and scaring each other with ghost stories. In reality though it was mostly rubbish; we’d fall asleep early and then wake in the middle of the night freezing our bollocks off. This particular night was different though; as I will go on to explain.

It was getting late, but it was still light as it was summer. My brother, cousin, Ashley and I sat in the tent discussing what sort of mischief we could get up to once my parents had gone to bed. I was scribe and was noting down the best ideas that we managed to come up with. Within half an hour, we had a pretty impressive list together of things that we could do, now we just had to wait for it to get dark. We passed the time taking the piss out of each other, dishing out dead arms, and talking about girls. When midnight eventually came, we unzipped the tent and checked the house: Result! All the lights were off meaning my parents were asleep.

Things started out innocently enough, as we dared each other to creep around the garden in the dead of night. Even though I knew we were in the safety of the back garden, it was quite eerie as any noises sound far scarier when you’re young and outside. We soon got bored of doing this though and decided to move onto the next suggestion; climbing into the neighbours’ gardens. The plan was to clamber over the fence, get into a garden and then return. This was pretty pointless in itself, but quite exciting to our young minds at the time as we were being rebellious and naughty.

Ashley volunteered to go first, and before we had really thought through what we were doing, he was over one fence and into the next garden. Peering over, we watched as he did a little jig on their patio, before scurrying back as quickly and quietly as he could. We dashed for the tent, and once inside, celebrated his achievements. Once we’d calmed down, we took it in turns to repeat the feat, and the adrenaline rush was great – better than eating 4 Slush Puppies in one go. Before long however, the euphoria of simply getting into the next door’s garden had disappeared and we needed something new to quench our new found thirst for being daring.

It was decided between the group that we should climb over not one fence, but over two, and then take something from that garden. We agreed that it was best if we carried out this operation in pairs. Reluctantly, I agreed to go first, and I chose my cousin to join me. We unzipped the tent once more, and felt the now cool night air against our faces. I puffed my cheeks out, ‘Let’s do this!’ I whispered.

 Getting over the first fence was easy. We’d both done it earlier in the night and we slipped over confidently. I felt like a professional burglar as I dropped down effortlessly into the next-door neighbour’s garden. My cousin joined me on the other side of the fence, the sound of him dropping to the ground cushioned by his slippers. We crouched down behind some plants and discussed our next move. On the other side of the fence, my brother and Ashley peered through a crack and watched us.

“Follow me”, I said, and I tiptoed at a good pace across the garden, completing the journey with an army roll as I reached the other side. My cousin obliged and we were now up against the next fence hurdle. The fence wasn’t too high as I could reach the top easily with my hands, but it was very wobbly once I’d pulled myself up. As I tried to scurry over, I made quite a lot of noise as my feet bashed against the wooden fence. I landed with a thump on the other side, and lay down low bracing myself for a light to come on. I could hear my heart thumping inside my chest, but nothing else; I hadn’t disturbed the owners of the garden I was now in.

“Ok, mate, come over”.

My cousin began his ascent over the fence. I tried to hold it steady to make it as easy as possible for him to get over. As he got one leg up and over the fence, a light came on in the garden he was leaving. We both saw it and instantly shit ourselves, in the metaphorical sense. The huge shock from the light coming on forced my cousin over the fence and he landed on top of me on the other side. He rolled off and we sat in silence, waiting to receive a telling off.  I could hear my brother calling us, so sensing everything was fine, we peered back over the fence. It was a cat that had set off the security light! We were safe, for now.

The next stage of the mission was to find something in the garden that we could take back as a memento from our journey. I spotted a rather impressive garden gnome sat on a raised brick wall which separated the lawn and patio.

“That’ll do”, I said, pointing the gnome out to my cousin, and within seconds I was scurrying off on all fours to retrieve it. The mission was almost complete, now we just had to get back. My cousin clambered back over into the first garden and I passed over the gnome. Once again, I found the wobbly fence hard to scale, and I pretty much fell off the top of it and landed on the other side. We sprinted across the garden to the next fence – we were almost home!

My brother took the gnome from us and we climbed over the fence in unison. Once over, we made for the tent, and as before, we zipped it up and sat quietly, waiting to see if we’d disturbed anyone. The gnome was hid inside a sleeping bag as a safety precaution. Two minutes passed without incident, and we decided it was ok to celebrate. High-fives were dished out and then our prize was unveiled in front of torch light. The gnome was about a foot high, and brightly coloured. He had a joyful look on his face. I decided to name him Simon.  After much deliberation about whether or not we should return Simon, we decided against it, instead challenging my brother and Ashley to repeat our feat as previously agreed. Initially they were both against it, so we told them of the treasures that lay in the garden from where Simon came, and this seemed to the incentive they needed to agree to the challenge. We stepped outside again.

 Ashley was over the first fence in no time at all. He is a very good climber, frog like in technique. My brother soon followed and I was impressed by the speed at which they were going and also at how quietly they were doing it. Being best friends, they seemed to have a telepathic understanding of how they were going to go about their mission. They were quickly across the first garden and now at the wobbly fence. It was hard to make out exactly what they were doing through the crack in our fence which we were watching the events unfold, but I could see Ashley up and over the fence as quickly as before, followed by my brother who looked as if he had stood on something to help him get over. We waited for about two minutes, and then saw them both running back on their return, so we headed for the tent to wait for them. In they scurried, and lay down, laughing to themselves.

“Come on then, let’s see what you managed to get”, my cousin asked.

They looked at one another, and then Ashley revealed their plunder; a solitary silver ballet shoe.

 “Why the fuck did you steal that?” we asked, laughing at what they had brought. “You could have taken one of Simon’s friends!”

“We just saw it and thought it would be funny”, they replied. They looked disappointed at our underwhelming reception of the ballet shoe.

“Well what are we meant to do with one ballet shoe? It’s not even cool like Simon is?”

“Well I’ve got an idea”, my brother piped up, and we listened intently to the plan…

 Ten minutes later, we all emerged from the tent. It was now pitch black and very cold outside, but we continued with our shenanigans regardless. A path led from the garden up the side of the house and out into the front of the house. We crept in single file out onto the drive with Simon the Gnome and ballet show in tow. We decided to walk 5 minutes up the road so that any prank that we now played would be less likely to be traced to us. First of all, the ballet shoe was placed strategically on the front lawn of someone’s garden. In it, we placed a hand written note which read,

‘ CONGRATULATIONS! This ballet shoe has been dropped randomly from the Radio 1 helicopter. If you find this ballet shoe, you are the lucky winner of a holiday of a lifetime. Please phone Radio 1 immediately to claim your prize!’

 Not exactly the prank of a lifetime, but it made us chuckle at the thought of somebody following the instructions left on the ballet shoe through. We then walked further afield and it was time to say goodbye to Simon the Gnome. We opted to leave him right on the doorstep of a house so that he couldn’t be missed by the occupants in the morning. The note however was changed. This time, it simply read;


 Camping is overrated.

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