Tweet
Woe is me. You think I'd know better by now, but I don't. Here's my latest nightmare.
So I poked a fat bird the other week (yeah yeah, ANOTHER one) and she has been sending me text messages demanding another portion. Now, needs must and on Saturday night, I succumbed and agreed to go and pick her up from a club and "take her home" (up the arse). Alas, when I got there, she was pissed as a rat, absolutely shitfaced, fallover-in-front-of-laughing-policemen drunk. I shovelled her into my car and her first demand was 1. Cock.
2. Chocolate.
Now even I won't ball a fat bird in the middle of town so we set off somewhere quiet, via the petrol station to get her a Mars Bar. Bad move. The only other thing to pass her lips that day was 3 bottles of red wine. Soon the Mars Bar was heading back the other way...all down the side of my motor. Being the forgiving sort (and wanting a BJ at least), I let that one go and found a quiet spot to put her to the sword.
But no, she hadn't finished barfing, and was getting more incoherent. Buggering fat birds is only fun if you can wave Mars Bars in front of them, just out of reach, to get them working hard, so I decided this was a lost cause.
Me, being a gentleman of sorts, didn't just push her out in the middle of nowhere. Nope, I took her home to her husband, he he, whereupon she promptly puked and shat herself on the doorstep.
Phew, lucky escape, thinks I, climbing back into the Shagmobile, and making a quick getaway. Hang on a mo, I can see the seat is wet - the nasty pig had pissed herself in my fucking car!!! Well, no use crying over spilled piss, so I left it till morning to clean up (along with the stripe of vomit down the side)
Morning came around and I got stuck in. The thing is, the piss appeared to have dried. We all know piss on car seats doesn't dry overnight, so......eeeww....I had a sniff of the seat. Minge juice. She was absolutely fizzing and had creamed all over my car seats.
I tell you folks, there are few things as vile as stale Fat Chick clunge juice, my stomach did somersaults. The terrible thing is that I can't get rid of that stench, it has pervaded my whole car. I wind the window down and a cloud of clunge drifts out, it's atrocious. It's at the point where I don't want to get into the Gash Mobile, I simply cannot stand it.
So, what's the solution, apart from setting fire to it? I've considered doing a first-thing-in-the-morning piss on the seat, after 12 pints of Stella, in a bid to neutralise the stench, but I fear a chemical reaction that will sear my nostril hairs.
What can I do? What would Blazer have done?
Incidentally, they aren't bucket seats, and it was my Land Rover, not the Jaguar. Fucking hell, I can't even imagine that happening in my beloved Jag. Luckily it's a fat chick-free zone. This justifies that decision in my book.
Oh, and I forgot, the pig texted me next day to say she thought her drink had been spiked! No pet, the 3 bottles of wine on an empty stomach did it, not some mystery drink spiker.
So I poked a fat bird the other week (yeah yeah, ANOTHER one) and she has been sending me text messages demanding another portion. Now, needs must and on Saturday night, I succumbed and agreed to go and pick her up from a club and "take her home" (up the arse). Alas, when I got there, she was pissed as a rat, absolutely shitfaced, fallover-in-front-of-laughing-policemen drunk. I shovelled her into my car and her first demand was 1. Cock.
2. Chocolate.
Now even I won't ball a fat bird in the middle of town so we set off somewhere quiet, via the petrol station to get her a Mars Bar. Bad move. The only other thing to pass her lips that day was 3 bottles of red wine. Soon the Mars Bar was heading back the other way...all down the side of my motor. Being the forgiving sort (and wanting a BJ at least), I let that one go and found a quiet spot to put her to the sword.
But no, she hadn't finished barfing, and was getting more incoherent. Buggering fat birds is only fun if you can wave Mars Bars in front of them, just out of reach, to get them working hard, so I decided this was a lost cause.
Me, being a gentleman of sorts, didn't just push her out in the middle of nowhere. Nope, I took her home to her husband, he he, whereupon she promptly puked and shat herself on the doorstep.
Phew, lucky escape, thinks I, climbing back into the Shagmobile, and making a quick getaway. Hang on a mo, I can see the seat is wet - the nasty pig had pissed herself in my fucking car!!! Well, no use crying over spilled piss, so I left it till morning to clean up (along with the stripe of vomit down the side)
Morning came around and I got stuck in. The thing is, the piss appeared to have dried. We all know piss on car seats doesn't dry overnight, so......eeeww....I had a sniff of the seat. Minge juice. She was absolutely fizzing and had creamed all over my car seats.
I tell you folks, there are few things as vile as stale Fat Chick clunge juice, my stomach did somersaults. The terrible thing is that I can't get rid of that stench, it has pervaded my whole car. I wind the window down and a cloud of clunge drifts out, it's atrocious. It's at the point where I don't want to get into the Gash Mobile, I simply cannot stand it.
So, what's the solution, apart from setting fire to it? I've considered doing a first-thing-in-the-morning piss on the seat, after 12 pints of Stella, in a bid to neutralise the stench, but I fear a chemical reaction that will sear my nostril hairs.
What can I do? What would Blazer have done?
Incidentally, they aren't bucket seats, and it was my Land Rover, not the Jaguar. Fucking hell, I can't even imagine that happening in my beloved Jag. Luckily it's a fat chick-free zone. This justifies that decision in my book.
Oh, and I forgot, the pig texted me next day to say she thought her drink had been spiked! No pet, the 3 bottles of wine on an empty stomach did it, not some mystery drink spiker.
Comment