The picture above reminds me of a story a friend told me a few years back.A guy in his 40s, who had been divorced for a while and hadn't enjoyed female company since, set off to Amsterdam on a stag weekend with a group of friends.
Feeling sorry for the guy, his friends told him that they had decided to club together and buy him a night of passion with one of Amsterdam's hookers. The only condition was that, as he got down to business, he called one of their mobile phones so that they could listen in on the action.
(Strange friends....)
The guy agreed and his mates set up the encounter as promised. And, also as promised, he dialled one of their mobile phones as he reached the business end of the evening.
All progressed as you would expect for a number of minutes, until shouting could be heard on the other end of the line.
For this portion of the tale, do your best to imagine a broad Fife accent shouting at the top of its voice: "Fucking poof. Get oot ma room ye fucking poof. Get oot or I'll batter ye."
For those who haven't yet guessed, the guy's 'friends' had clubbed together and hired a very convincing transsexual prostitute, and were at that point wetting themselves in uncontrollable laughter .
The moral of the story?
Your friends are probably a shower of bastards.
3 comments:
I've seen that photo before and always wondered if, perhaps, she was merely "big-lipped," and that those things peeking out down below are not actually boy knockers.
Yeeef. That be a turn-off, but hey, I guess some peeps are into that, and that's totally cool by me.
you would have thought that the blokes guide-dog would have at least told him "sausages"
your probably to young to remember sausages/thats life and ester ask your mither :)
.... your friends are probably a shower of bastards...... word, brother..... word....
Eric
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