I don't like to give out my name to women. They have to earn it.
I was walking to the restroom of a bar last week and I saw a woman that hadn't shut the door all the way. I said hello and she said hello. I didn't care for her name. She didn't name herself, her parents named her. {edited by Kyle J} The way it should be.
1 comment:
Aye! I was dating this Paddy from the ol' Emerald Isle itself! I met her in this here bar on the corner of Carnaby and 8th. I like your style, Fence, a real for someone living in the states, I presume. Well this lass had paps as big as melons and the face of the virgin Mary. She must have been a virgin or some sort of prude knowing what happened next you see. She got a bit tanked with me, on voddy and that red bull shit you yanks drink. But you have to understand also then, my vision was a bit peasouped if you catch my drift. I was destroyed by five pints of Ol' Speckled Hen then I was, so every girl in the bar was the one for me you see. So I got a bit fresh with that lass and she slapped me a wollip now! I just wanted a bit of a diddle with her vertical bacon sandwich, you know, her hairy axe wound. Hi-yo ha! Well, in the end, she left! All I had was the jolly company of Madam palm and her five sisters. Cheers, Fence! Good luck with the rest of your Gritty Brits now, hear?
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