As the Mighty Shit Sandwich would say. Which means it was a good one, apparently. Shit came down to the mecca that is Plymouth and a great time was had by all. There was an awful lot of alcohol, a lot of very bad jokes (and some great ones, which I can't remember, but trust me, they were world class). Good food, good company and, as ever, there were the Sisters of Mercy.
We went to the seaside and ate a proper Cornish pasty. We went to the rather fabulous cocktail bar and then we went to the rather less fabulous Treasury bar, where we practised our 'gay' dancing and I got accosted by a grannie (again. Why is it always me?)
And then today we watched the mighty Ipswich Town stuff the budgies before he trundled back off to sunny Folkestone. A true prince amongst men, a life in the company of the shit sandwich is a life well spent indeed. May the seed of his loins be fruitful in the belly of his woman.
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4 comments:
It was indeed, as the mighty Eric Cartman would say, totally tits. Thanks for having me and for the initiation into the wonders of be-grabbed-by-a-granny night...
And by the way, I've now got "Jingle Jangle Jewellewwry" on the brain.
Apologies for the typo. I did have a moment of confusion over "jewellery", but my fingers also appear to be no longer fit for purpose.
You should have left it, Shit. I thought it was a deliberate pisstake of his accent. Now you just look like a fool.
Glad you guys had a good time.
Chez, you're going to disown me for this, but my fella is a Norwich supporter. He was not best pleased on Sunday. He was even less pleased when I spent the entire afternoon taunting him. Heh.
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