Friday, May 07, 2004
“Come on Alistair, it’s your turn for a funny story…”
Now, I don’t do jokes. Most things that happen which I find funny I think you have to know me to appreciate. I was dreading the long anecdote followed by the stony silence and a, “that’s just harsh, actually.” Had I had a couple more glasses of Rosé, of course Rosé, this is what I would have said:
"So, it was my 21st birthday and I was in Thailand. Actually, it was my 20th. My 21st I was in a strip club in Tijuana. So, I’m on a Thai island. Our hotel, me and my friend Ed this is, was half way between two towns, I forget the names. The World Cup was on, so it was 1998. We’d been watching one of the games in a club. We got talking to a couple of English girls. One of them was ok, I got on quite well with her, Ed called her “Square Head”. She was alright though. Ed and I always disagree on all women, ever. Actually, I remember this Bangkok waitress he gave a flower to, she was shocking - I have photos - but that’s another story. Anyway, I’m well pissed and Ed decides to go home. I decide to stay on for a while. It’s gone 2am by this stage. By the time I’m fixing to split, gone 4am now, there’re no taxis. So I’m stumbling back to the hotel – bear in mind it’s over 3 miles back to the hotel – and some “woman” on a moped starts circling around me saying, “you want blow job? You want blow job?” and grabbing my crotch. Actually, I remember I put my hand on her breasts, saying, “You can't do that! See how you like it?” “Just fine.” “Oh, right.” So she’s all like, “I’ll take you to the beach and give you a blow job…” *I’m* thinking, “it is a long way back and the beach is on the way…” So I get on the back of the moped. “She” may have big hands, but “she” does have transport… So she drives me to the beach, two minutes from where I’m staying, and starts coming on strong. So I’m all like, “you know, I’ve changed my mind. Thanks for the offer and everything, but I’ve decided not to have the blow job after all.” “She” gets angry, I walk away, and ten minutes later I’m in bed. Peach."
I didn’t tell this story. But it was close. And it would have been better than any that I heard.
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Now, I don’t do jokes. Most things that happen which I find funny I think you have to know me to appreciate. I was dreading the long anecdote followed by the stony silence and a, “that’s just harsh, actually.” Had I had a couple more glasses of Rosé, of course Rosé, this is what I would have said:
"So, it was my 21st birthday and I was in Thailand. Actually, it was my 20th. My 21st I was in a strip club in Tijuana. So, I’m on a Thai island. Our hotel, me and my friend Ed this is, was half way between two towns, I forget the names. The World Cup was on, so it was 1998. We’d been watching one of the games in a club. We got talking to a couple of English girls. One of them was ok, I got on quite well with her, Ed called her “Square Head”. She was alright though. Ed and I always disagree on all women, ever. Actually, I remember this Bangkok waitress he gave a flower to, she was shocking - I have photos - but that’s another story. Anyway, I’m well pissed and Ed decides to go home. I decide to stay on for a while. It’s gone 2am by this stage. By the time I’m fixing to split, gone 4am now, there’re no taxis. So I’m stumbling back to the hotel – bear in mind it’s over 3 miles back to the hotel – and some “woman” on a moped starts circling around me saying, “you want blow job? You want blow job?” and grabbing my crotch. Actually, I remember I put my hand on her breasts, saying, “You can't do that! See how you like it?” “Just fine.” “Oh, right.” So she’s all like, “I’ll take you to the beach and give you a blow job…” *I’m* thinking, “it is a long way back and the beach is on the way…” So I get on the back of the moped. “She” may have big hands, but “she” does have transport… So she drives me to the beach, two minutes from where I’m staying, and starts coming on strong. So I’m all like, “you know, I’ve changed my mind. Thanks for the offer and everything, but I’ve decided not to have the blow job after all.” “She” gets angry, I walk away, and ten minutes later I’m in bed. Peach."
I didn’t tell this story. But it was close. And it would have been better than any that I heard.
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