Right then Lettie & Janet, if plod gives me a season ticket for detention, you must promise to come and hold my hand, and write my lines for me
It has been censored and embellished and bears no resemblance to the foul and filthy little gem that dropped in my lap last night
Well, without further ado...
A bloke walked into a pub, strolled casually over to the bar and immediately caught the barmaid's eye, and she asked him what he would like. "I want to bury my face in your cleavage, and lick the sweat from between your buzz'ums," he said.
"You dirty old git! Get out before I go and get my husband!" shouted the barmaid.
The bloke apologised and promised that he wouldn't repeat his gaffe. The barmaid accepted his apology and again asked him what he wanted. "Do you like strawberry yoghurt?" he replied.
A little taken aback by this response, the barmaid said, "Well...yes. But why do you ask?"
The bloke grinned and said, "Because I want to pull your pants down and smear strawberry yoghurt on the cheeks of your ar$e and massage it in gently, then lick it all off. Strawberry just happens to be my favourite flavour."
"Get out! You're banned!" screamed the barmaid. "I don't want to see you in here again!"
Once more, the bloke apologised and swore that there would be no more lewd outbursts. "OK then, one more chance... what do you want?"
The bloke started to fidget and laugh nervously as he said, "What I would really like is to rip off your knickers and spin you upside down. Then I want to spread your legs wide apart and fill your pu$$y with Stella Artois, and drink every last drop from it."
"Right, that's it!" stormed the barmaid, offended by this personal insult. "I'm going to fetch my husband!"
Off she went, upstairs to fetch her husband who was watching the telly. "What's up, Love?" he asked when he saw his wife in a state of distress.
"There's a bloke downstairs in the bar who wants to shove his face between my nellies and lick the sweat off 'em," she answered.
"Who is he? I'll kill him!" fumed her husband.
"Not only that, he wants to rub strawberry yoghurt into the cheeks of my ar$e before licking it clean," she sobbed.
"Right he's dead!" growled her husband, as he reached for a baseball bat. "Come down stairs with me, and show me who he is."
"But he also said he wanted turn me upside down, and fill my f@nny with Stella, then slurp every last drop of it till I'm bone dry!" she wailed.
The husband put down the baseball bat, returned to his armchair and switched the telly back on. "Aren't you going to do something about it?!" she screamed hysterically.
"Look love, just make sure he pays for it all, because I'm not messing with someone who can drink fifteen pints of Stella."
You can threaten me, or torture me in Abu Ghraib jail but I won't reveal my source, coz i've been promised many more like that little gem. Just remember, I am only a media, a conduit, a messenger, for a desperately sick mind.
