Old face, young cleavage

I was on a bus today when some nearby cleavage caught my gaze. Proper bloke that I am, I paused to have a butchers at it before glancing at the owner's face (I guess she was about mid-forties), and it was at this point I relaised something just wasn't adding up. The cleavage was deep and split a pair of perfectly good, fresh looking tits, however, the woman's mug left a lot to be desired - wrinkly, troubled, uncared for.

I repeated the observation process a few times - cleavage, face, cleavage, face - and each time it felt like I was looking at two different people. What was her story? Had she intended to have everything renovated only to run out of funds before getting started on the roof, or had the hardships of life only affected her boat and left the chest area unscathed?

Lady parts

I was on holiday last week and I seemed to spend a lot of time looking at women's arses, and now that I've come back I'm paying more attention to the chest area. Does this mean that next week I'll be concentrating on the thigh area? This apparently natural switch of focus has puzzled me for a long time.

This topic came up in a highly intellectual conversation amongst a few mates of mine years ago, but we never really got to the bottom of it. I'm sure there's some high-falutin' scientific explanation that I'm just too fucking lazy to look for, so here's my take on it - I think it has something to do with the first female body part that we ogle at the beginning of the day. I have no scientific research to back this up except that there seemed to be a lot of firm, well rounded arses on display last week, and the first thing that caught my eye yesterday was an exceptionally well mounted set of Bristols.

I read somewhere that the average bloke is attracted to a female whose waist is roughly 7/10's the size of her thighs; this is supposed to be genetically stamped into our brains and relates to a bird's child bearing abilities. That would explain why we cringe when we see some fat bird in a tracksuit whose waist and thighs are roughly the same circumference. This also means that even the most stupid fuckwit can claim to have some knowledge of fractions.

Stupid fucking handshakes

I live, work in an environment where the handshake is considered an important greeting between blokes. I have no problem with this, in fact I applaud it; there's something old fashioned, indeed respectful, about this. However, I've noticed recently that the 'stupid handshake' is beginning to oust its traditional cousin.

You know what I'm talking about... when the hands of the shakee and the shaker go through some sort of weird, personalised fucking dance routine. There are numerous complications associated with this activity,

  how many individual movements are in the shake?
  what are the movements?
  what is the shake duration?

I went into work the other day and started off with a couple of traditional shakes (no confusion there), then got involved in some type of hand flapping, moved onto vertical salutes, and finished off bumping knuckles - all very fucking unnecessary. I like the traditional shake, the traditional shake works for me.

Now I think I'm being regarded as a bit of a handshaking retard due mainly to my lack of interest and coordination, but I have a plan to remedy this. My solution is simple - people should carry with them a detailed description of the movements in their routine. Basically, when you meet someone that you'll potentially shake hands with in the future, you should swap routines and agree on some sort of daily schedule, "we'll use your routine on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and mine on Tuesday and Thursday." This will give both shaker and shakee time to practice at home and avoid any embarrassing encounters.

Two days lost...

or more appropriately... down the crapper.

Due to my current circumstances, I found myself on my Jack for the New Year. I decided to go out and purchase what I thought was an adequate supply of booze the day before to get me through New Year's Eve. Par for the course, I managed to get through the best part of this before the main event and had to do another run on the Saturday afternoon (par for the course, I bought more than I needed).

My first real recollection of 2012 was waking up on Monday morning. Realising that I still had a small ration of the Devil's piss, I mixed up a booze breakfast and eventually stumbled into the new year some time on Monday night - two days well and truly fucking lost.

The main victim however, has been my arse - I have never 'pissed' so much filth into a toilet bowl in my life! And was it all worth the effort... was it fuck!

It's not a Milky Way, it's a Mars Bar

There are some who know the Mars Bar as a Milky Way, but don't be fooled, it's always been a fucking Mars Bar and it'll always be a fucking Mars Bar. The Milky Way is/was (?) similar to a Mars Bar but is/was smaller and doesn't/didn't contain the creamy caramel (the Milky Way went through some sort of transformation a while ago, I think).

Now that I find myself living in S.A, I have discovered you can buy packs of Mars Bars from the local supermarket. They're a lot more fucking expensive than I remember when I was a cub but the exquisite flavour has not diminished, especially when accompanied by a mug of tea.

Back in the day, when the grocery van came round our square, we normally had to go for the Milky Way (think it was about 10p) as the Mars Bar was considered a fucking luxury, weighing in at roughly 16p. When one was fortunate enough to have the necessary funds to purchase one, one had to take drastic measures to enjoy the tasty chocolate treat in peace. You normally had to do one of the following:

     find a quiet place and eat it like you were having an affair with a friend's mum

     spit on it to deter the vulture cunts that were your mates (wasn't always effective)

It's also worth pointing out that any chocolate bars/sweets over the average price had to be treated in the same way (Rolos, Lion Bars, Cream Eggs, etc.)

I recall one particular Saturday morning, I must have been 12 or 13, when I had enough coin to purchase a Mars Bar. I thought I had bought myself a couple of minutes to eat the bastard in peace when, much to my shock, one of the older boys (yes, you D.Vennard) wrapped his hands round my throat to prevent me from swallowing it. I think the fuck would actually have eaten the regurgitated product had I not repelled him.

Mars Bars!

The unfinished ogle

Very frustrating, this...

I was waiting on getting a coffee served up this morning when I spotted this bird standing outside chatting to a couple of people. She was decked out all in black - knee-length boots, leggings, blouse - and she certainly looked the part from the front. But you know the score... you can't really pass judgement until you've had a butchers at the chassis.

I continued casually glancing out the window (confident that I'd cop a look when she walked off) until my coffee was ready, then took a split second to grab some sugar. When I looked back she'd gone.

It's a bit like losing a sneeze.

Delighting in the misfortune of others

I had a bad feeling about United's game against Basle on Wednesday. I actually work with a Swiss bloke, and I told him about an hour before the game that I wouldn't be surprised if United got beaten. I think he thought that I was humouring him in some way, so he responded to my remark with a casual laugh.

When I got home I realised that I only had a choice of two games to watch on the box, Man City v Munich, and Villarreal v Napoli. I decided to watch the City game, on the off chance that they'd lose, and follow the United game on the BBC Live Text. However, once United went 1-0 down I flicked over to the Napoli game and started rooting for them. The only time I was happy during the afternoon was when Napoli scored their second goal close to the final curtain. I was right royally fucked off that United had been dumped out in such humiliating fashion, but fed greedily off the crumbs of City's misfortune.

Then, on Thursday, it was Liga de Quito playing in the first leg of the Copa Sudamericana final against Universidad de Chile. The game was in Quito and the home team were expected to win handsomely (I know a LOT of locals, and 80% of them are Liga fanatics). All day Thursday, I suffered jibes about United's exit from the CL and listened to them spout their predictions of 2-0 and 3-0 victories for the home side -throat clearing noise- Liga performed miserably and the Chilean side took a 1-0 victory away with them... more crumbs of comfort to shove down my gullet.

Mobile fucking phones

Here's an old, scratched record I've played many times before.

The mobile phone (cell phone) isn't the thing that bothers me... it's the pricks, fools, fuckwits, dunderheads, clowns, cunts, arseholes, etc. that so blatantly abuse the gadget in public. There is no place for these people in normal society. Here's what they shouldn't, under any circumstnces, be allowed to do...

...walk about the streets, on flights of stairs, getting on/off buses, etc., like farts in a trance, staring at the phone. Normal people should be permitted to bump into/ trip up these idiots.

...talk really loudly on the phone when in public places. What is it with these cunts? Are they so emotionally fucked up that they have to let others know they have at least one friend in the world?

...wear those stupid little ear pieces or big cunting headphones.

...not use the stupid ear pieces or big cunting headphones when they're listening to music. You know the type of retard I'm referring to - the one who walks around playing crappy music on their phone, wrongly thinking that they're entertaining everyone else.

...have an annoying ring tone. This is just plain, common fucking sense.

...leave the phone sitting in front of you when in a reastaurant, etc. What, are you the only fucking person in the world with a mobile phone?

Whilst drunk on the street the other week, I was hassled by the filth. When I tried pointing out to them that more serious, mobile phone related crimes were taking place right beside us, did they listen? Did they fuck!

The dog's...

...bollocks, knackers, balls, etc.

1. When one thinks they are better than others (presumably because a dog can lick its own balls).
Usage: I can't stand that smug bastard... he thinks he's the dog's knackers.
2. When something is really good.
Usage: Nice motor, mate... it's the dog's.

I used this expression in front of the missus a while ago, and I've been really chuffed at how she has incorporated it into her everyday conversation.

I've been making a real effort to use as many similar expressions from the old country, not only to educate others but also so that they don't fall into disuse in my own conversation. Here are a few other animal related sayings:

As odd as cats' shite / dogs' balls

I've never owned a cat or a dog so I can't say for certain whether either of these statements are true. I can only assume that some eagle-eyed cat owner once noticed that their cat never seemed to leave any shit lying around, and that some perverted dog owner got his jollies by feeling his pet's clangers.

Usage: I wouldn't leave my kids with him... he's as odd as cats' shite.

As tight as a gnat's chuff / duck's ass

This one needs a bit more clarification when teaching the foreigner how to use it: (1) a gnat is a small fly (2) a chuff is another word for the vagina. You don't need to own a gnat to figure out that its gash must be pretty tight, well, compared to a woman's (bitchy gnats might sit around gossiping, "look at her, she's as loose as a regular sized fly"). The duck's ass reference is to with it being water tight. In both cases, they refer to people as miserable cunts, unwilling to spend money.

Usage: You haven't bought a fucking round all night... you're as tight as a gnat's chuff!

Hung like a donkey / stallion

You only really need to explain the word hung and the rest falls into place.

Usage: Would I be guilty of racial stereotyping if I said all black men are hung like donkeys?

I couldn't give a monkey's (fuck / toss)

Basically means that one couldn't give a fuck.

Usage: I'm leaving you, taking the kids, and shacking up with a lesbo.
           I couldn't give a monkey's.

It would freeze the balls off a brass monkey

I always thought that this was a nautical term (cannonballs - brass monkey) but I've just read about another connection to actual brass monkeys from China covering their testes. Testes... funny little word. Regardless of its origin, it just basically means to feel very cold.

Usage: Turn on another bar you tight fucker... it's cold enough in here to freeze the balls off a brass monkey.

Fucks like a rabbit

Again, I've never watched two rabbits fucking (think the reference is more related to the high reproduction rate than the actual speed of humping). There's got to be an animal lover out there who relaxes in a gentleman's fashion, feeling his dog's balls and watching his rabbits fucking.

Usage: It's said she fucks like the preverbial rabbit. You have a splendid opportunity of engaging in coitis.

The turtle's head

When the stool has already formed, gravity is now in charge, and there's precious little you can do about it... the faecel point of no return.

Usage: Fuck! Forgot me fucking keys... and me with the turtle's head.

The pup with the brown nose

Where the pup is an ample breast, and the nose is the nipple

Usage: Nice pups, luv... can I have the one with the brown nose?

Like a dog with two dicks

To describe someone who is very happy or content about a situation or outcome. This implies that a dog with two cocks would be capable of fucking twice as often, or possibly doubling the stimulation whilst cleaning its undercarriage.

Usage: What happened to him? He's walking about like a dog with two dicks.
           Oh, the missus finally agreed to let him put it up her shitter.

...hairs on its neck like a turkey

Not so much an expression as a line from a rowdy little ballad I learned as a lad:

Can you take it in your mouth Mrs Murphy?
Sure it only weighs a quarter of a pound.
It's got hairs on its neck like a turkey
And it squirts when you rub it up and down.

Not sure who Mrs Murphy was, but the line obviously refers to a cock.

Urban Myth or the Real Deal?

I used to have a mate, Adamson, who was in the Army Air Corps. Twenty something years ago, after a stint in Germany, he told me these two yarns over a bevy:

To mark his first tour of duty, a young greenhorn went in search of a prostitute. It didn't take long for one to give him a nod on a street corner and he accompanied her to a sleazy hotel. She discussed her terms - once you shoot your load, you pay up - and they got into the lift to go to her floor. In the lift she started rubbing his muchacho through his trousers to get him in the mood. The young lad, obviously not too experienced, couldn't handle the foreplay and came in his pants just as the lift reached her floor. Sure enough, as per the agreement, the prozzie demanded payment and the embarrassed young squaddie left the hotel without even getting his cock out of the holster.

The second starts in similar fashion, the only difference being that the squaddie involved had struck up a bit of habitual business with some sort. They went back to her digs one night, did the deed, and the bloke stayed until morning. When he woke up he found that all his gear was gone - clothes, shoes, watch, money... the lot. While trying to work out what to do next, he decided to exact some revenge by shitting on the bed. As he was in the process of smearing it over the sheets, his lady friend came in carrying his belongings which she had taken the time to clean.

These stories, when told, spread like wildfire (or shit on a sheet) and it wasn't long before I'd heard both of them retold complete with embellishments - one mate even walked into the bar one night and swore blind that he had told me them first when I'd actually told him the same stories about six months earlier. Only recently, when having a sup with a colleague over here, I heard an almost word perfect version of the first one.

You see, no one wants to admit that they were way down the chain when the story was doled out. I'm fairly sure that the versions I heard all those years ago weren't the originals - fuck knows how long they've been doing the rounds. But it's good to see that they still pop up in conversation, regardless of where you are.

Don't stand so close to me... with your cock, bliff, etc.

It was lashing down the other day so I jumped on a passing bus. I was well fucking pleased with myself as I was able to find an aisle seat close to the back of the old bone-shaker. As we trundled along, more sodden passengers climbed on until the bus was full to the fucking gills.

Some punter was forced to support himself using the back of my seat - he was stood square to my shoulder. I'm never too chuffed about my personal space being invaded, and was even less pleased when I realised that his man part was occasionally rubbing up against my upper arm. I can't say for certain that he was an 'opportunist upper arm rapist' but I gave him a "no more!" glare and that was the end of that.

A couple of stops later he got off and was replaced by some bird, resplendent in a classy pair of black leggings, who assumed the exact same position. It wasn't long before her camel's hoof started hovering around the same upper arm area. She wasn't exactly in the best condition but it was definitely a step up from the rogue cock of a few moments earlier.

The hat-trick of body parts was eventually completed when, close to home, some woman got on with her sprog, sat down in the seat across from me, and whipped out one of her floppy thruppeny bits for a feeding session... nice, real fucking nice.

MILF takes a huge load all over her face

I was researching some material recently for one of my high brow articles, and absent-mindedly stumbled upon an adult web site. Embarrassed, indeed mortified, at what I saw, I immediately tried to exit the foul site only to find that I had inadvertantly started playing all 16 minutes and 23 seconds of material that was surely sent from the bowels of hell itself. As if this wasn't bad enough, I realised later that the same video had inexplicably been downloaded to RealPlayer. In vain, I tried to delete the filth, but to no avail.

A few days later I arrived home to discover that my angelic wife was playing some music videos on RealPlayer. Struck by the notion that my darling may doubt the validity of my story, I quickly prepared a plausible white lie - someone else must have been using the laptop. Luckily, my dearest spouse didn't scroll down far enough to discover the shameful chronicle of that young mother - it wasn't just on her face... it was aallll over her face!

I am presently composing a stern email to send to the internet provider as, if you can believe such an unfavourable turn of events, the same thing has occurred on several occasions since.

Bet you were thinking, "Right, I'm going to have a bloody good wank!"