Thursday, June 30, 2005

I Double Dare You

Last night Del and I were batting the breeze and discussing the finer points of Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention, when we decided that perhaps it would be a good idea to go to the pub to check to see if we've still got a booking for Sunday the 24th July, as no one has mentioned it since we were first asked to play. So we high tailed it down to the pub in the Delmobile to talk to the Landlord.
The landlord was out but due back so we decided to play pool while we waited. There was a couple at the bar they'd been on a low heat all evening and were coming to a boil. Her in all her curvaceous lovelyness and him thin weedy and supporting Manchester United. He looked up from the bosom of his best friend and said "That's a fucking great hat you got mate."
"Thanks."
"I'm D. and you guys are?"
"He's Del I'm Mike Da Hat."
"Mick the hat. eh?"
"No Mike."
"OK Mick. Whatsay me and my girl here give you a game of pool?" He turns round and touches his girlfriend in a manner more intimate than is really necessary in public. She reaches down and grabs his crutch.
It is Decided that D. will team up with Del and the curvy girlfriend C. will play with me.... er... be in my team as it were. All through the game they were each trying to put each other off by spanking each other at first while the other tried to play a shot. It escalated into crutch grabbing to put each other off. Finally D. is leaning over the table and C. stands behind him and grabs his crutch with both hands.
"Go on then. Open the door let the old boy out." he shouts, she laughs, "Go on then, I dare you, get him out show him the world, I double dare you."
Del and I look at each other. She wouldn't would she? Would she?
Oh my God! She would. The zip came down and she plunged her hands into the guys jeans fiddling around trying to free the wild beast inside. meanwhile the guy is still leaning over the pool table lining up a shot. He misses. She pulls her hands away in triumph. Del and I were spared the horror.
The landlord walks in with a minibus full of speedway fans and carrier bags full of Chicken Jalfrezi, nan bread and special rice. Last orders had been called but the landlord makes sure all his mates have a pint placed in front of them. You can't eat a late night curry without a few pints of lager to wash it down.
So he confirms we're playing, in fact we're the opening act of the day. I can't decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing. It's good because then we can get our shift over and done with and then have a few beers and enjoy the rest of the acts. (There's nothing worse than being abstinent because you're due to play soon.) But it's bad because we wont have much of an audience at 12 o'clock midday. Oh well. C'est la vie. At least at midday there's a good chance we wont go on stage falling down drunk..... yeah................ as if.............we will be .... ahem.... quite sober.
Rock on dudes and keep it live.
I thank you.

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