Happy Birthday Rsmacker!

[SEAN RAF]

Ah fuck it....Happy Birthday

[toejam]

HBD, you silly little freak!! Have a beer bong enema!

[Snoogans]

Quiet night in front of the telly with a nice cuppa?

[thunderhead]

Quiet night in front of the telly with a nice cuppa?

... or a pot noodle and a wank

[Jayster]

HBD , have a good one.

Cheers

[phill_up]

Why is it that anything that involves Rsmacker is funny?

Happy Bday Dude!

[Rsmacker]

Well thank you very much my friends, your birthday greetings were most welcome.

Now, who wants to hear about my celebratory weekend away in The Toast of the Coast, the Skidmark on the Underpants of the North-West, the one and only well-past-it's-sell-by-date very grubby and seedy BLACKPOOL?

Well, hard luck, I'm going to tell you anyway.

Oh, deary me, where to start?

Hmmmmm, Friday afternoon, got that itch (no, the other type, not the "walkin' sideways, sideways walkin', give me the blues" type of itch.), and my friend who owns a guesthouse up there foolishly laid temptation in my way and invited me up to have a nice relaxing weekend. Now that bit I can remember quite clearly, the following 48 hours isn't quite so clear.

I mean, what kind of silly question was it, "would I like to go up to a Victorian built shitty seaside resort, well out of season, for a debauched stay"? I fucking hammered the Jag up the motorway. For you folks across the pond, Blackpool is a dump full of Kiss-Me-Quick hats, sewage on the beach and slot machines. Talking of slots, and most importantly, it is the place for the tawdry underclass of the UK to go for Hen parties. Perfect! Lots of pissed up slappers staggering around in pink stetsons drinking pints of Lager with a Roofies dash. Anyone with a hint of self-respect wouldn't be seen dead there on such an outing, especially in late November.

Which is why I was there, stalking the herds of bovine babes looking for an opening (fnarr fnarr).

I did learn one thing this weekend, much like a lion stalking a herd of wildebeest, trying to pick off an old or frail one, and that is that hen parties are ferociously possessive, and should a wily old bastard like me wheedle his way into anything like the Giggle Zone with one of their number, they close ranks like a British square at Khartoum and expel the interloper, the only one who has a real dick in their hand, as opposed to the candy ones they are wielding. There is no way they are going to let Granny get taken off and fucked bandy (well, even more bandy, I suspect she had rickets) by a scrote like me. Like Foghorn Leghorn, I had to slink off unceremoniously stating "I say, I am the Hunter" etc etc.

Time for Plan B.

Plan B was actually a non-starter. It involved Eastern European women, but though they certainly leave our women for dead in the How To Look Good Without Eating A Whole Fucking Pie Shop stakes, they are no fools when it comes to falling for the lines of bastard like me. Not to mention they all seem to be lap-dancers, and I'm fucked if I'm paying anyone £25 for her to shake her tits at me. For £25 I want full service, anal included, right Wilksy-Baby? (BTW honey, thanks for your message, nice try but I think thou doth protest too much. You ain't fooling anyone!)

So, onto Plan C - namely, apply the magic elixir (lager), copiously, and then add some more. Then stagger round, invincible, Cock of the Walk, full of killer lines, until I find someone with learning difficulties who will believe I actually do own Blackpool Tower, and let me go to work (or, erm, sleep) on them.

Guess what? I succeeded! Proof indeed, that there is a higher power smiling down on me, I was soon fighting off the cast of Cocoon and lubing up some GGILF beaver. I suspect some was as old as the resort itself, it certainly could have done with a lick of paint and an overhaul, but like an old leather jacket (complete with pockets) it felt gooooooood. Down in my mate's Dungeon of Delights, in the pillory and on the shagging sling, I was Boning for Britain, Digging for Victory. There will be pics available shortly, I had to view them yesterday when I came out of my coma, which is how I know what I was up to. They did make me feel slightly queasy.

I have a touch of a headache now, I think I may have had a bad kebab the other day, so I must retire to my Wankpit for a few hours. I shall return and tell you more when I come to terms with the realisation of how low I have sunk this time. (On the plus side there were no Dwarfs).

[nhspike]

Congrats!
Way to go brother!!!

[SEEGERMANY]

After reading twice, I think I've come to the conclusion that he fucked my granny!

[shobet]

I knew it would be an epic!

[Super_shredder]

awesome

[toejam]

After reading twice, I think I've come to the conclusion that he fucked my granny!

:ROTF: I was thinking it was my granny... but she's been dead for a long time. Hell, that probably wouldn't stop him anyway.

[toejam]

So, onto Plan C - namely, apply the magic elixir (lager), copiously, and then add some more. Then stagger round, invincible, Cock of the Walk, full of killer lines, until I find someone with learning difficulties who will believe I actually do own Blackpool Tower, and let me go to work (or, erm, sleep) on them.

:ROTF: I'm off to find someone with learning difficulties, too!

[Rsmacker]

:ROTF: I'm off to find someone with learning difficulties, too!

Hey! You leave my Wilksy-baby alone.