Every now and then I will give you all a little insight into the type of fucked up nonsensical shenanigans that transpire in my everyday life. Prepare to be shocked and awed at the truly bizarre shit that happens to me.
This weekend was always going to be expensive. I am attending the opening of a plush new cocktail bar and the fuckpiece with me is one of those young, classy, drop dead gorgeous, spoilt brat types. You know the type; she’s been relying on her tits, fanny and face ever since school and hasn’t even learnt to suck cock properly yet because she’s so fucking reliant on her good looks and implied popularity that she feels no need to practice her sexual technique. Brainless, vapid, boring and predictable, but above all, easy meat. I keep telling myself it will be worth the expense just to drop a ladle or two of ‘I can’t believe it’s not spunk’ onto her chin.
We strut our stuff into the largely empty cocktail bar, making quite the couple, turning heads as we enter. The first thing I notice is that I have miscalculated very badly. The waitresses and barmaids are all wearing bikinis and hoola skirts etc and some of them have got my old fella doing the twitchy dance before i’ve even made it to the bar. I’ve bought this expensive little princess out when what I’d much rather be doing is getting one of the bikini barmaids on all fours.
Resigning myself to having to settle with a blowjob off of one of the bikini bitches in a toilet, I begin working my magic and charm. Little Miss Richfuck is deposited with a long suffering acquaintance in a corner, whilst my sordid charm offensive starts to get underway on the other side of the bar out of sight. Half an hour and a satisfyingly empty ballbag later, sees’ me traipsing around this fucking pretentious shitehole looking for Princess and my mate.
I’m on a balcony overlooking the now heaving dancefloor, using my vast array of peeping tom skills in an attempt to locate my errant party. There’s a tap on my shoulder…It’s a Banana…a 7 1/2 foot tall Banana. Or rather a dickwad dressed in a banana costume. I mean of course why wouldn’t I be addressed by a spotty student dressed as his favourite yellow fruit on a balcony overlooking a dancefloor? I ask myself.
Bananaman isn’t happy, in fact he’s downright scowling at me. I nod at him in a reassuring manner in an effort to persuade him that I didn’t mean to encroach upon his territory, before making my way passed him. He puts his hand upon my chest to stop me… ‘What have you just been doing with Kat?’, asks the annoyed banana. ‘Who the fuck is Kat, and why are you touching me?’ I growl. The young fruit removes his hand but not his scowl. ‘Kat is my girlfriend,’ he says pointing down towards the bar and indicating to me that the lass who’s gob i’ve just filled is his paramour. ‘Ahhhh’, (on reflection not the most confident rebuttal to hand) ‘I didn’t realise she was taken mate sorry.’ Which i think is quite polite considering he’s an irate banana.
I’m in a headlock….a Banana has me in a headlock…a stick thin student dressed as a comedy phallic fruit has me in a headlock…
I’m kicking a Banana that previously had me in a headlock repeatedly in his big yellow bent foam head, when all of a sudden I am set upon from behind ‘Security’ I silently curse to myself…but no! Why is that hand and arm so fucking hairy, what exactly has hold of me?! A Gorilla has attacked me from behind, I can only assume him and the Banana are friends or at the very least aquanitances.
I am now in a pitched battle with a Gorilla and a Banana on a balcony overlooking a heaving dancefloor. The Banana is soft and is hanging back, but the Gorilla is surprisingly nimble and punches like a freight train. Every blow I land on him bounces off his furry ape suit.
There’s cheering, the sort of bloodlust filled chant that I’m sure Gladiators used to cherish on ‘fight a fruit’ day in Ancient Rome. I allow myself to be distracted for a brief moment as I realise the entire episode is being filmed from somewhere and now all three of us are projected onto a large cinema screen overlooking aforementioned dancefloor. The fuckwit plebs below are howling for blood and baying for a victor. How Gauche I remember thinking just before the Gorilla kicked me in my nuts.
And yes. I did still fuck Princess Naive later that night. She thought I was brave. Thick cunt.