W
wivers
This week i've been doing a job for a woman that would make Alan Carr think about going straight.
Now some of you might think this is a good thing but, its been very hard to keep me mind on the job.
Well today i had one of my "please god strike me with a lightening bolt" moments.
The customer came out of the kitchen to talk to me and we was chatting for a while, when suddenly my eyes mysteriously were drawn towards her breast area.
After the few seconds they managed to focus properly on the huge great fun bags and sent an instant message to my brain telling it that she had left 2 of her shirt buttons undon and her over shoulder boulder holder was clearly visable...and red!
Now in my single days i always worked on the bratree theory.
This was invented by Professor Wivercus and a few others in their labatory known as Grandus Local Pubacus.
Anyway the theory went like this. If you was on the pull wiv a bird and caught a glimpse of thier bra you could tell how yer luck was gonna go and put it into a tree like format.
If the bra was a washed out dirty white coulour then the bird was prolly a bit of a pikey and up for anything, but you would most definatly end up wiv a few creepy crawlies around the spud sacks and therfore they should be avoided forever........or until the end of the night if you still handn't blagged anything else.
This bra would then be at the very top of the tree high away from any itchy problems.
Next branch down would be the pattend bra, mainly white but with a load of coloured spots or pink hearts etc.
This would indicate the bird was very likely under age or had underlined mental health issues. Which ever it was you was either gonna be at risk of being nicked or boiled, and so was on a high enough branch to be out of the question.
Next was the plain white bra. Nice clean cut women who wanted to be wooed and taken out to dinner a few times before they even thought about doing that thing their mum had told them was sooo disgusting.
Perfect to take home to mum but not for a few another few years thus being in the middle of the tree ready to pick if the fruit was juicy enough.
Next came the lacy black bras.
Now these were always hard to pin down to one type of bird.
Sometimes it could be that they was a business person who had just got changed at work and so hadn't washed which would make them a wee bit kipperish down stairs, and some times they could be the enthusiastic type out for a good time and wearing nice thread just incase the mood took them.
Any of these two was always fine by me as i like a good crack and i've always been into a nice bag of seafood at the weekends.
So black bras were always on the first branch up, well within touching distance but some effort needed to pick.
Then you had the RED bra.
These woman were the all out vamps that wanted on thing and one thing only..... no Dave not for you to give them a tiling estimate.
Thats right red was the Signal for fire,hot,steamy stuff and most of us would crap ourselves before we even began the chat up lines.
This bra then became the trunk of the tree, holding the rest of the branches off and only one large drink away from a good old root!
Anyway my brain then told my damb arse manhood that the bra in question was red.
Now i'm very happily married and would never dream of cracking onto anyone else , but my purple headed wheel warrior has no sense of, loyalty, smell (thank god), or timing ......infact it has no sense what so ever and may as well be sitting in the front row at parliment, at least it might cheer half of the overpaid old bloaters up for an hour or so.
So... my now excited meat tenderiser has started to make a reach for the stars. :mad2:
This for some of you may not be a problem if you wear pants and jeans, but i unfortunatley never wear pants or boxers coz they bug the hell outa me, and i was wearing shorts!
I manged to think quick and dropped my mobile on the floor and pretended i thought it was damaged and turned around with my back to the window and the customer making out i was trying to get some light on the phone to see what was wrong.
After a few minutes she went back into the kitchen and i manged to quickly hook my dumb arse plodder up bettween the elastic on my shorts and my belly as i have had to do many times before.
Quick thinking evrything okay thank god for that NOT!
She came back outa the kitchen and started up the convo again, but now my brainless trout tackle was thinking "sod it if i aint getting a catch im going back in me box".
I was in mid sentace when i felt the damn thing flop down to semi level and saw her drop from two eye contact to one.
I'd like to think it was the fact that my semi inflated bouncey castle was so large that she had to leave the room to stop herself having a jump on it, but complete embaressment and discust probabley come in first.
She's been okay since and nowts been mentioned, i'm clinging to the hope she thought found a new place to keep me pencil...erm i mean lucozade.
Now some of you might think this is a good thing but, its been very hard to keep me mind on the job.
Well today i had one of my "please god strike me with a lightening bolt" moments.
The customer came out of the kitchen to talk to me and we was chatting for a while, when suddenly my eyes mysteriously were drawn towards her breast area.
After the few seconds they managed to focus properly on the huge great fun bags and sent an instant message to my brain telling it that she had left 2 of her shirt buttons undon and her over shoulder boulder holder was clearly visable...and red!
Now in my single days i always worked on the bratree theory.
This was invented by Professor Wivercus and a few others in their labatory known as Grandus Local Pubacus.
Anyway the theory went like this. If you was on the pull wiv a bird and caught a glimpse of thier bra you could tell how yer luck was gonna go and put it into a tree like format.
If the bra was a washed out dirty white coulour then the bird was prolly a bit of a pikey and up for anything, but you would most definatly end up wiv a few creepy crawlies around the spud sacks and therfore they should be avoided forever........or until the end of the night if you still handn't blagged anything else.
This bra would then be at the very top of the tree high away from any itchy problems.
Next branch down would be the pattend bra, mainly white but with a load of coloured spots or pink hearts etc.
This would indicate the bird was very likely under age or had underlined mental health issues. Which ever it was you was either gonna be at risk of being nicked or boiled, and so was on a high enough branch to be out of the question.
Next was the plain white bra. Nice clean cut women who wanted to be wooed and taken out to dinner a few times before they even thought about doing that thing their mum had told them was sooo disgusting.
Perfect to take home to mum but not for a few another few years thus being in the middle of the tree ready to pick if the fruit was juicy enough.
Next came the lacy black bras.
Now these were always hard to pin down to one type of bird.
Sometimes it could be that they was a business person who had just got changed at work and so hadn't washed which would make them a wee bit kipperish down stairs, and some times they could be the enthusiastic type out for a good time and wearing nice thread just incase the mood took them.
Any of these two was always fine by me as i like a good crack and i've always been into a nice bag of seafood at the weekends.
So black bras were always on the first branch up, well within touching distance but some effort needed to pick.
Then you had the RED bra.
These woman were the all out vamps that wanted on thing and one thing only..... no Dave not for you to give them a tiling estimate.
Thats right red was the Signal for fire,hot,steamy stuff and most of us would crap ourselves before we even began the chat up lines.
This bra then became the trunk of the tree, holding the rest of the branches off and only one large drink away from a good old root!
Anyway my brain then told my damb arse manhood that the bra in question was red.
Now i'm very happily married and would never dream of cracking onto anyone else , but my purple headed wheel warrior has no sense of, loyalty, smell (thank god), or timing ......infact it has no sense what so ever and may as well be sitting in the front row at parliment, at least it might cheer half of the overpaid old bloaters up for an hour or so.
So... my now excited meat tenderiser has started to make a reach for the stars. :mad2:
This for some of you may not be a problem if you wear pants and jeans, but i unfortunatley never wear pants or boxers coz they bug the hell outa me, and i was wearing shorts!
I manged to think quick and dropped my mobile on the floor and pretended i thought it was damaged and turned around with my back to the window and the customer making out i was trying to get some light on the phone to see what was wrong.
After a few minutes she went back into the kitchen and i manged to quickly hook my dumb arse plodder up bettween the elastic on my shorts and my belly as i have had to do many times before.
Quick thinking evrything okay thank god for that NOT!
She came back outa the kitchen and started up the convo again, but now my brainless trout tackle was thinking "sod it if i aint getting a catch im going back in me box".
I was in mid sentace when i felt the damn thing flop down to semi level and saw her drop from two eye contact to one.
I'd like to think it was the fact that my semi inflated bouncey castle was so large that she had to leave the room to stop herself having a jump on it, but complete embaressment and discust probabley come in first.
She's been okay since and nowts been mentioned, i'm clinging to the hope she thought found a new place to keep me pencil...erm i mean lucozade.
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