I was getting ready for a night out on the tiles, adjusting my boobs in the mirror whilst wondering if I looked to much like a slapper. Surely there is no such thing as too much cleavage?
There was a noise outside so I looked out the window and saw an old man having a wank in the bushes, dirty bugger!
I must look like a right slag if I am having that affect on the elderly, should I get changed? No way!
Once I arrived at the pub there was not much talent about, just that weird looking fella who always looks like a ponce in that ruddy awful pink shirt and gold medallion. I hope no one ever finds out about me snogging him last Christmas, I had consumed more than one sherbet that night.
As the night wore on I was whingeing to my mates that the only half decent looking bloke in the place was that wanker from last week who made a total pratt of himself dancing with his todger between his legs and singing to ABBA and the one that was currently being a total wally by drinking his own sick for a tenner.
So what is a girl to do?
This is a totally true story, I would never take the piss out of you or anyone else by posting a pack of lies.
It's fun, it's witty, it's informative--and best of all, I now truly understand some new words. Honest! I now think I finally clearly see what that doggone book should be a collection of: this!
ReplyDeleteAnd, as an added bonus, Max doesn't have to stay up late tonight to think up a post.
Don't take this the wrong way Claire, but...
I think you're the greatest! Moooo-ah!! (Max blows kiss across the Atlantic.)
Max you scared the shit out of me with this picture!
ReplyDeleteAre you still up?
ReplyDeleteI can't thank you enough. You are simply SUPER!
Now go to bed.
Yes I am still up I now working on a post on my blog that links to this one :)
ReplyDeleteThen I will go to bed :)
At least “boobs” is universal. I think. That's what she was adjusting, right?
ReplyDeleteDamn I love the word "whingeing." My dad (an Irishman) used it to dramatic effect on me and my brothers whenever we got out of line with the complaining or whining. "Stop yer whingein'!" The soft "g" of the word always seemed to connotate the chin-wobbling frowniness that went along with a full-throttle whinge.
ReplyDeleteWhen I googled "slapper" (yeek) I found this, it may be helpful for any who have troubles speaking Brit-ese: http://english2american.com/dictionary/a.html
Thank you for stopping by our humble little blog, grumpus. And your points are noted and well appreciated.
ReplyDeleteBut reference books, as a first resort at least, are banned. Too easy. Too clinical. Reference books don't require one to surround oneself with actual wise and witty people to kindly help one out. So, we try to use reference books only when we are truly stumped.
How infinitely more delightful, don't you think, to have a gorgeous lady like Claire explain naughty words to an old dog, than to simply look them up in a book, alone in one's kennel in the wee hours?
Personal memories are desired, dear grumpus, like yours of "whingeing." But won't you come by and play with us from time to time? You seem like such a nice person. Shy perhaps, but very nice. And, how immeasurably would a Canadian--who is happily also Irish--add to our little clan. Hmmmm? :)
Of course I have taken note of, and bookmarked, the kind (and useful) link you provided. I didn't say one shouldn't HAVE many reference books; only that one should, as a general rule, try mostly to use them to rest coffee upon rather than actually habitually read. You understand.
ReplyDeleteHa! Check out how de Cork folk speak:
ReplyDeletehttp://www.peoplesrepublicofcork.com/index.php?module=Dictionary&func=displayvol&vid=1
My favourite is flange bar because of the juxtaposition of the filthy and the mundane.
haha!! boob adjusting... lolz... it happens a lot!!
ReplyDeleteOoooh! Thriftcriminal has made Aerten very happy with his link to the Peoples Republic of Cork. Aerten wants so much to move to Ireland. Mr. Aerten does not want to holiday in Ireland because he fears he will not be able to get Aerten back on the plane to go home to the States.
ReplyDeleteOh look... it's time for Aerten to go to work.
Claire, what a fabulous story! Very clever. I enjoyed every bit of it!
ReplyDeleteThanks for helping us Yanks along. This of course doesn't mean I won't still ask you the occasional question when I hear a totally new word to me on BBC America. :)
ReplyDeleteMy favorite British word?
"Chuffed."
And to quote PG Woodhouse, "Ha-jolly-ha, with knobs on." -Jenn
@Claire
ReplyDeleteThe response has been fantastic my dear. I will see you tonight, you know where, for the payoff, as agreed.
By the way (although I suspect you already know what it means and are just rising above the filth, as it were) the phrase means to turn you out on the STREET, luv. As in "be your pimp." And, no, I'm not going to mention his name or give him a link, because he was an asshole to Max and moderated out Max's comment the other day. Seems the phrase "wake up and smell the pussy" was too monstrous for his high class axe throwing readers to handle. I still sneak by his blog to read it of course. Just before going to bed--it helps me go to sleep for some reason.
Thanks again. More later. I have seen the future, book-content wise.
But I bet you'd take the mickey, now wouldn't you?
ReplyDelete@.45 yes 'boobs' were been adjusted, I hope your not suggesting I am packing something extra? Remember this is a fictional story :)
ReplyDelete@ Grumpus excellent usage of whingein g your quite right about dropping the g at the end :)
@ max less of the flattery!
@thrift criminal, flange! hahahaha :)
@shavran it does indeed.
@Aerten thanks ever so much, I am not the most wordy person but I tried :)
@ Jenn ask away! I love the word chuffed, I will have to work that into a future story :)
And when yanks wank, is it called yanking? Just askin'
ReplyDelete@ Max thanks for enlightening me on that matter ;)
ReplyDelete@ ohmyword, I would! haha :)
@ ohmyword, As i am no yank I wouldnt know :)
ReplyDeletedear ohmyword:
ReplyDeleteI know you haven't yet had the time (or probably the inclination) to peruse my meager archives, but allow me to extract a short section of the very meandering post called "Free Willy"...
--------
There was a Herman's Hermits song that was fleetingly popular here in Yankland back in the 1960s called 'enery the Eighth. Or maybe it was called something else. It was probably an old English pub drinking song. I don't know--I've never had the pleasure of being in an English pub singing drinking songs. It went like this:
I'm 'enery the eighth, I am
'enery the eighth, I am, I am.
I got married to the widda next door--
she'd been married seven times before.
And every one was an 'enery.
She wouldn't have a Willy or a Sam.
(No Sam.)
I'm her eighth old man named 'enery.
Enery the eighth, I am.
Ta da dum.
Second verse, same as the first.
Well, you get the picture.
Even as an innocent Yank-child, I still remember being puzzled as to why she would never have a Willy. But my puzzlement would quickly pass, and I would go off and yank on my willy. But, you see, I didn't yet KNOW that it was a willy. (By the way, is willy supposed to be capitalized in this context?)
---------
Thank you for gracing this private hell with your glorious pre-wizened glory. (I think your blog is just fantastic!) An American living in Paris. What more could an old dog ask for? By the way I did understand (most) of your email. I understand how hard it is to type when one is getting stuffed. Ta.
@ Claire
ReplyDeleteCareful with what you say. The subject of your next writing assignment has to do with the various techniques of "banging one off". As you delightful British call it.
:)
Time for some more coffee and to try and dry off my snorted keyboard.
@ .45
ReplyDeleteI take it back. Your stuff is just to good for me to stop reading, Keep up the good work my friend--and don't be a stranger!
@Max I think Lord Likely would be better at that one :)
ReplyDeleteand try not to upset anyone today.
If I know Claire (and I do) that post is 100% true!
ReplyDelete@Kai! How very dare you!(prove it)
ReplyDelete:)
@Max: Oh, I wasn't sure you were talking about me. I wouldn't moderate a comment, especially not a foul one. I only hid one of Claire's the other day because I thought she made a mistake.
ReplyDeleteI have the 2-step forced preview to keep out spam, though. I sometimes forget to hit post after preview myself. Maybe that's what happened?
Yes, I'm willing to tell myself that's what happened. I would rather do that than stay pissed at you. Actually, the pissedness lifted a couple of days ago, so that's cool already. It's just as well--I'm sure I would have offended your congregation had I gotten through. Better this way. :)
ReplyDeleteI somehow doubt you could've offended anyone, but sorry for the crossed channels.
ReplyDeleteI haven't gotten any spam since I implemented that, but maybe I'm losing comments too.
Glad you're not still mad.
I'm not still mad.
ReplyDeleteNow fuck off. I'm trying to wank off here and you keep interupting.
I'm sorry .45
ReplyDeleteThat didn't sound so friendly did it. And you were starting to be so nice to me again. Lying bastard.
No...actually I was over at Mimseys staring at those nekkid "C-string" models she has posted today to get dogs like me all hot and bothered. Have you seen them yet?
I mean "mimzies"
ReplyDeleteIf I am going to give her a plug, at least I should spell it right?
Mimzies. Pant Pant. Max is goig to go off and lick his balls now.
Good Lord.
ReplyDeleteJust wanted to let you know I popped in to see what was about.
Popping back out again now.
Good Lord.
Claire - you snogging a ponce in a pink shirt?
ReplyDeleteSince you never take the piss, I guess it must be true. 'slong as you stay off the wankers...
Max - you've got yourself a gem here - hang on to her...
Ha! I've got more than one gem, my lady. Won't you please try and stop by more often? We need you. We miss you. Let the barn go and come play with us! :)
ReplyDelete'Slag' is one of my favourites. Classics will never go out of style. :)
ReplyDeleteMine too, Qelqoth.
ReplyDeleteAt least until I realized people were mostly using it to describe Max. :(
Oh Max your not a slag your a wanker :)
ReplyDeleteI like your resolutions for today :)
:) :) :)
ReplyDeleteWell, as a once colonial subject of his royal family, I understand much of the British terminology.
ReplyDeleteNow as we say in Jamaica, " A wha deh rass yuh a cha bout mon?"...
lol..
Claire, you are brilliant(and Max knows this)..ha ha
Ummm.
ReplyDeleteWhat?
iriegal
ReplyDeleteAre you still there? I have a question, mon.
monette I mean.
I am utterly disgusted.
ReplyDeleteAnd aroused.
Also, if Mr. Max would like a post filled with euphemisms for banging one off, I am sure I could toss something off in a few, short minutes.
Absofuckinglutely. Guestpost the bejeezus out of my little dog ass m'Lord.
ReplyDeleteGo into explicit detail on how one in your Lordship's position--or any position at all-- would variously wack off. You know--pound his pud, strap his Roger, beat his meat, flog his franky, pick a bone with himself. Just don't spank that goddam ubiquitous monkey any more.
Your subjects await. Do be vivid. Do describe the spectacular Lordly results of such a beating as well, Lord. Illustrations too, if you have them. Or a friend with a digital camera that you trust.
Knowing that your Lordship is undoubedly quite rapid, I will begin advertising this glorious event on the various Mimzie blogs this morning.
Note to Marmelade: Please don't read this one, hon. I know how this activity sickens you.