Sunday, February 17, 2008

Il semble comme un gorille, il était dans la cloture gorille

I got so drunk I danced to Britney Spears. Not only did I dance to the dancefloor smash, Gimme More (you can just imagine it can't you) I also attempted to dance with some girls that were dancing beside me. They weren't welcoming. They inched away. Very slowly. Probably to really draw out the humiliation.

Then That Dirty Dancing Song came on. And I'm told, yes, told - obviously I can't remember - that I attempted to do The Lift. But I missed. Or he dropped me. Or something. And I ended up flat on my back (insert own joke here. I really can't be bothered).

Then I decided that not content with one night's worth of disgracing myself I thought it'd be a really good idea to crank it up a notch and go out and start drinking at 4pm. Why? Luckily we didn't end up on any sticky dancefloors but I did end up with the word peado written on my wrist and a very long arrow leading up to my armpit. So what can we deduce from this? My armpit is a peadophile. Excellent.

Then this morning my mother decided that I should accompany her to the supermarket. Obviously I couldn't remember that someone had written peado on my wrist so off I went. To a rammed supermarket. Full of families. Hopefully someone was recording reactions for some sort of Chris Morris style comedy montage complete with Bernard Manning. 

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