Not Goth
Saw Breakout last night down the Nofuture Inn. Just went for a quiet pint with Jizz so was surprised to see a pub full of rockabilly types with verti-hair. It was busy but fun. Especially liked Breakout’s cover of What’s My Name by the Clash. I’ve been playing the first Clash album lots recently. Whilst the band were playing I took the piss a lot and tried to give a few people a festive wedgy but nobody wanted to play. Karen thought that because I had tried to give her a wedgy, I was really saying that she had a fat arse. I think that one was a little lost on me. I gave up the wedgy thing when she told me she was actually going commando and that I was a sweetheart [scared].
Jizz tried to get me to swing missbumpkin’s pants again in front of the band. He was referring to the punx picnic in September when I put a pair of her pink knickers on my head, then put them on over my trousers and paraded up and down in front of people outside the pub and then later still, danced in front of Selwin Frogget [crap folk punk band] swinging the aforementioned knickers backwards and forwards between my legs whilst gyrating my groin in some depraved sexual motion at the band members. I think the band questioned whether I was a sincere admirer of their music. I don’t think Herr Sim thought it was funny but then I don’t think she much liked being saluted either if I remember correctly [I get confused between the titles landlord and overlord, they both sound the same to me].
At least Cup Cake was on form last night. He thought I had been to a funeral and Becky thought I looked like a goth. Just to clarify, I don’t wear black all the time and I’m not a goth. I’m just a stupid white male. I suppose I am miserable though. Anyway, don’t you need hair to be a goth? I suppose Uncle Fester could be a role model for us Goths with no hair. Speaking of follicley challenged people [don’t think I’ve spelt follicley right], looking at the lovely George Doors [Angela], I couldn’t help but ask Cup Cake whether she was pregnant and not Becky. Didn’t have the nerve to ask George Doors direct because she’s big bird and scary. Not that I’m small myself either. Think that’s why missbumkin calls me Jabba. I now have man boobs. They are very distracting but lovely nonetheless. I keep rubbing them. I think I might rub them too much and probably at times I really shouldn’t.
Speaking of missbumpkin, got a surprise call from her late last night, requesting permission to book into Hotel Ladysmith. Her wicked endeavours this weekend had tired her out and made her ache so much; she simply couldn’t drive home the poor thing. Young pup just isn’t used to the once-a-year pace is she [smiles to himself]
At the end of the day, I just don’t know what name I prefer most, Glenn, Fart_Pellet, Jabba, Cheesy Puff, or Flaps?
Hurrah, I’ve just arranged a 24hr dirty food, beer and sex session next Monday with missbumpkin and misswhiplash63. Better save me spunk! [smiles again]
Anyway must go, there’s a Gangrel pack outside my door baying for blood, the buggers!
Jizz tried to get me to swing missbumpkin’s pants again in front of the band. He was referring to the punx picnic in September when I put a pair of her pink knickers on my head, then put them on over my trousers and paraded up and down in front of people outside the pub and then later still, danced in front of Selwin Frogget [crap folk punk band] swinging the aforementioned knickers backwards and forwards between my legs whilst gyrating my groin in some depraved sexual motion at the band members. I think the band questioned whether I was a sincere admirer of their music. I don’t think Herr Sim thought it was funny but then I don’t think she much liked being saluted either if I remember correctly [I get confused between the titles landlord and overlord, they both sound the same to me].
At least Cup Cake was on form last night. He thought I had been to a funeral and Becky thought I looked like a goth. Just to clarify, I don’t wear black all the time and I’m not a goth. I’m just a stupid white male. I suppose I am miserable though. Anyway, don’t you need hair to be a goth? I suppose Uncle Fester could be a role model for us Goths with no hair. Speaking of follicley challenged people [don’t think I’ve spelt follicley right], looking at the lovely George Doors [Angela], I couldn’t help but ask Cup Cake whether she was pregnant and not Becky. Didn’t have the nerve to ask George Doors direct because she’s big bird and scary. Not that I’m small myself either. Think that’s why missbumkin calls me Jabba. I now have man boobs. They are very distracting but lovely nonetheless. I keep rubbing them. I think I might rub them too much and probably at times I really shouldn’t.
Speaking of missbumpkin, got a surprise call from her late last night, requesting permission to book into Hotel Ladysmith. Her wicked endeavours this weekend had tired her out and made her ache so much; she simply couldn’t drive home the poor thing. Young pup just isn’t used to the once-a-year pace is she [smiles to himself]
At the end of the day, I just don’t know what name I prefer most, Glenn, Fart_Pellet, Jabba, Cheesy Puff, or Flaps?
Hurrah, I’ve just arranged a 24hr dirty food, beer and sex session next Monday with missbumpkin and misswhiplash63. Better save me spunk! [smiles again]
Anyway must go, there’s a Gangrel pack outside my door baying for blood, the buggers!