I just spat coffee on my keyboard - genuine lolOriginally Posted by bertie
that wasnt a woman......................."mr lumpy"
My guess he had no Gun or drugs. You were a stranger and could have been a copper. He was a ****** showing off. imo. The one thing you did right imo was not to get drunk otherwise you may have been unfaithful, robbed or died of a bullshit overdose.
Never get drunk in a strange place!
Yep sounds like a regular night out in Manchester that does, although if you really wanted to get the heebyfuckingjeebies you should have taken a stroll to Salford.
Funny how the fantasy of a middle aged woman coming on to you is "WAHEY!!" but the reality is more "Oh fuck I want my mummy"
Yeah, he probably just thought I was some bumpkin who he could take advantage of. My guess is he would have just nicked my car.
Haha, so true. If I'd been single I probably would have done tbh, but at that moment I just thought 'I wish my wife was here'.Funny how the fantasy of a middle aged woman coming on to you is "WAHEY!!" but the reality is more "Oh fuck I want my mummy"
perv
......"Bertie is pretty much a zen master..................."
It's no wonder so many people are opposed to HS2.
Great tale though. Brilliant. I love Manchester, colourful place, we'd live there if it wasn't that bit too far from my business, and the fact that it really does piss it down all the time.
I've had some nutty experiences in hotels on my own. A while ago, I was in Amsterdam and got a bit lashed (funny that) and ended up in the bar that was round the corner from my hotel. Got talking to a bloke in there about footy, turns out he was a retired pro from Norway. Lots of natter about various clubs, premier league vs the other nations top leagues, good craic. So, after a while, he leans over to me, and out of the blue says "so then, you up for a bit? You are gay aren't you?" Jesus. Take a breath, be reasonable I thinks. "Nah, sorry mate, not my thing really". He took it very well, and that was that, he even laughed, saying he thought he'd pulled.
See, I was so bladdered, I hadn't twigged that the bar had quite a few blokes mincing round in vests, to hi energy type music, or that there were absolutely no women in there.
Had a similar experience in Cannes, on my own, asked the staff at the hotel for a good bar, so they sent me to a tranny bar. I didn't realise right away, just thought the women were a bit rough. Bloody friendly though!! When I got back, the staff thought it was v funny. Suppose it was really.
Back in the 90s, I took a load of doctors to a medical conference in Berlin. As host, I was tasked with taking them out on the town. Flagged a few cabs down and in my crap German, asked them to take us to some buzzing bars. Well, so I thought anyway. Cabs drive us off, and ditch us outside this big place on the edge of the city. In we go, to be fussily greeted at the door and ushered into a nice plush reception area where we were all invited to pick our ladies for the evening. TUrns out I had asked the cabbies to take us to where there was some action. Me, and about 15 middle aged doctors in a brothel in east Berlin. Which was nice.
www.soundcloud.com/geared-1
Evilmags, in his own true words: "I'm a well known pervert who'd stop at nothing to get my hands on anything female".
Great story hungrymark, like something out of Martin Scorsese's After Hours.
You could publish that, could be worth submitting it to GQ or somwhere.
Needs some sort of conclusion though doesn't it? It sort of dribbles off into nothing, with me just having a bath. I'd have to make something up, any ideas?
Seeing as it's weird confession time....
Many years ago I was in Rotterdam, having arrived there by ferry, when the crew went on strike. The company put us in a hotel, and I went up the road with a couple, of the other chaps, on the piss, like you do. Anyway, we went into this one bar which, due to us being somewhat tipsy, we hadn't realised was populated by ladies of the night. Having sat down at a table, a very black girl with a fucking great afro sat next to me, and rested her bouffant barnet on my shoulder, telling me that she was from Sierra Leone, and was looking for a good time. The other two guys had also been similarly accosted.
Having supped up and told the lot of them to piss off, we stumbled off into the night, ended up in an all-night bar, and nearly missed the ferry back home the next morning.
Not long afterwards, maybe a few weeks or so, I'm sitting watching telly with the missus, when on comes an investigative programme about the human trafficking from west Africa into Holland. With hidden camera, the reporter gives us the lowdown, and then proceeds to enter the same whore bar that I'd been in not that long ago.
I'm sat crapping myself hoping to God that I'm not on the telly having been secretly filmed, whilst trying to persuade the missus that there must be something better to watch, and maybe we should change the channel. The missus is having none of it, saying its disgraceful, the sort of men that get involved with this kind of thing, and I had to sit squirming through though whole programme.
Thankfully I hadn't been caught on camera, but it was one of the most anxious moments of my life.
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