The worst of men at pubs

Tuesday afternoon I ended up at a pub with three of my colleagues, to watch the Bafana-France match. We shared a table with two young women, both of whom gleefully told me that they were unemployed. The aspiring musician became the focus of the attention of a pickled, young guy who took it upon himself to put the business end of a vuvuzela down his pants in the bum region, and the remove it and blow it with his mouth. At this point, the object of his affection remarked: “So this is what life’s come to – you get dumped, you wonder why, and then someone who has pooh on his lips wants to kiss you.” Pooh-lips went on to sit on the lap of a guy who made the Michelan Man look anorexic. Quality stuff, I say.

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4 Responses to The worst of men at pubs

  1. HotGuy43 says:

    The mind boggles. You’re going to have to tell this story in more detail next time I see you. Look on the bright side – it could have been worse. You could have been Pooh Lips’ object of desire!

  2. Tamara says:

    Charming stuff.

  3. Charmskool says:

    Delightful! So very colourful – the youth on whom the country’s hopes for the future are pinned. Crikey girl where the heck do you drink?

  4. Don't Believe a Word I Write says:

    Nice eh, guys? Don’t you only wish Pooh-lips were YOUR beloved?

    HotGuy, I would have had to have beaten him senseless with my own vuvuzela … and then disinfected it, of course.

    Charm, I was coerced to go to this particular watering hole … a hole in the worst sense of the word.

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