A Cynical Journey

My record with women has always been shabby to say the least. I was always the funny one that kept girls entertained while my mates went to the toilet to empty the condom machine. If I wasn’t holding someone’s drink while the slowies were on I was queuing up for everyone’s coats.

In the end I came to the conclusion that going out was all about the crack with the lads than the cracks on the dance floor. “I don’t need to pull to have a good time” I’d say trying to convince the lads that I actually enjoyed going home on my own whilst they all went back to someone’s house for a party.

That was until one night in Warrington when I finally struck lucky. I’d been blown out, ran away from and laughed at by a stack of women until we ended up in a classy establishment called ‘Chaplins’. It was the only place that was open until 2am that you didn’t need to wear your work pants to get in. I was all set for yet another unsuccessful night when there she was. A short, squat woman with eyes like Nookie Bear. I was doing my thing to John Secada when I caught her eye, the good one anyway. The other one was watching her Guinness and Black that some fella with a tattoo on his neck was trying to spit into.

I gave her what my Nan used to call ‘the glad eye’ and moonwalked in her direction. “Hiya, how are you?” I politely ask “not bad, get me half a Guinness and Black and lets fuck off into the corner” she replied “What a woman, I’ve hit the jackpot here” I thought to myself as I walked to the bar to order a drink I’d only ever seen Eddie Yates order on Corrie.

I ordered the drink and glanced over to the corner to check on my ‘bird’. She’d stopped grimacing and was sniffed her armpit, she was clearly unhappy with what she smelt of as she used a beer mat to give herself a little wash.

“Well at least she takes care of herself” I thought, desperately trying to convince myself that I’d actually pulled myself a little belter. I walked over with her drink “there you go, enjoy” “Oh ta, I’m thirsty as fuck me” she snatched it out of my hands and downed the bugger in one. “Tia Maria and coke please” she barked. “Jesus wept, this pulling lark is bloody pricey” I thought as I walked back to the bar.
I was feeling pretty smug with myself as for the first time ever I was actually the only one to pull. One of the lads was stood at the bar waiting to go home. “I’m in here mate, have you got any change for the condom machine” I asked. My mate looked over to check her out “You’re not thinking of giving her one are you mate?” he asks. “Yeah why not? She seems nice”. “Col, do yourself a favour and stay away. She looks rougher than a sandpapered bum hole” he had a lovely way with words.

“No way, you’re just jealous ‘cos I’ve pulled and you haven’t” I bark. “Jealous of that? Are you having a laugh? She’s been battered by the ugly stick more times than you’ve choked your chicken. You can do better than her mate. Take my advice and come back with us”.

“Not a chance, I’ve got a chance of getting a shag and you’re going home for a pot noodle and a wank. Deal with it” I say.

“Mate, I’d rather rather have a wank with a knights glove than shag that. You best get back over there quick if you want to go home with her, she’s eyeing up that bloke in the wheelchair now”

“No she’s not, that’s her bad eye she’s actually looking at the toilets. See you tomorrow” I walked back over to her and gave her the Tia Maria and coke. “Oh fuckin nice one love” the drink was out of my hand and down her neck quicker than Gary Glitter can shut down his computer. “Ere, I’ve been talking to my mate Lesley. ‘Ow do you fancy the three of us coming back to my place for a good time?”

I couldn’t believe my luck, I hadn’t pulled one but two women. It was like I was living in porno land where a fella just say’s “hello” and whips his cock out. “Well, what do you think? If you’re up for it just say and I’ll give my mate a shout”

“Bloody right I am flower” I excitedly said. “Right then, go and get 2 rum and blacks for us and as soon as we’ve necked ‘em we’ll fuck off”. I sprint back to the bar, my mate is still there and I can’t wait to tell him the news.

“bloody hell mate, you’re not going to believe this. She only wants to have a threesome with me and her mate” I tell him. “Piss off, you’re winding me up?” he said. ‘No mate I’m not, she said her mates up for it and soon as she comes back we’re going back to hers. I can’t believe my luck”

“Fair enough mate, she may have a face like a camel’s ball bag but a two’sey up is a two’sey so fill your boots”

“Cheers mate, I’ll see you later” I rush back to the corner where Nookie Bear is still standing on her own. “Well where’s your mate then?” I ask her. She shouts at the top of her voice “LESLEY!!!!!! COME ONE COCK, HE’S BACK NOW”

I look over to catch a first glimpse of her but can’t seen anyone “are you sure you mates up for this, I can’t see her?” I ask. She looks at me like I’ve got a set of budgies bollocks on my head and introduces me to her seemingly invisible mate. “This is Lesley, sorry what was your name love?” I look all around but can’t see anyone “Bloody hell, she’s a schitzo” I think to myself and I’m just hatching an escape plane when I hear a voice from under the table.

“Alright mate, I’m Lesley. Pleased to meet you” I look down and sure enough there is Lesley, staring up at me pleased as punch in his wheelchair. Blind panic sets in and I drop the randy bastards drinks and bomb to the bar. Thankfully the lads are just leaving so I catch up with them.

“Ey up Hugh Heffner, what happened to your threesome?” my mates ask. “

“I jibbed it off lads, her mate was a bit pushy”

“Aren’t you going to wear a suit? And why are you drinking that puffs drink?” my dad asked as I poured myself a Blue Bols and Lemonade in the kitchen.  It was New Years Eve 1991 and me and the lads had managed to get the hottest tickets in town.

“I’m going to The Bank Chambers dad, I’m not up in court” I couldn’t find my ‘Best of 2 Unlimited’ LP and was in no mood for fashion advice from my dad, whose teenage years were spent chasing Elvis groupies around The Grafton in Liverpool in my grandads old demob suit.

“You’ll never cop off it you don’t go out in a suit, I always used to go out in a suit” he advised “Dad, that was the 1950’s everyone wore a suit then so you blended in.  I’d stand out like a black mans cock in a line up of flashers if I walked into the pub in a suit tonight” I replied.

“Well that’s the bloody problem with society these days, too many scruffy bloody kids walking round like they’ve just got out of bed.   That’s why there’s so many bloody gays nowadays, the women don’t want know. Ey, you’re not turning into a quilt are you?”

“Dad!! I can’t believe you’ve just said that, just because young people like to have our own identity these days doesn’t mean we are all gay” I angrily replied.

My dad looked shocked and annoyed that I’d answered back with such venom in my voice, he was just about to respond when my little sister Katie walked in.

“Colin, mum said you can use some of her hair lacquer if you’ve ran out of gel”

I looked my dad who raised his eyebrows as he passed me the bottle of Blue Bols “here you go sailor ha ha ha haaaaa” he said

“Oh, whatever” I said as I tried to storm out in a manly way, well as manly as a bloke in a flowery shirt carrying a Blue Bols and Lemonade could do anyway.

I went upstairs to finish off my preparations for what promised to be a massive night. It was my first ever night out on New Years Eve and I couldn’t wait.  My mate Paul Kingsbury had been out the year before, he was able to grow a moustache since he was 16 so we always turned to him for advice on the ways of the world.

“Midnight at new year is just like the last days of Rome, there’s women everywhere looking for action. You can’t fail to get a snog, you just walk up, say happy new year and stick your tongue in their mouth.  Easy.”

I had these words ringing in my ears as I stiffened up my quiff with a spray of my mums silvikrin. There was a knock on the door, this was it the lads had arrived in the taxi ready to take me off to my right of passage. My first New Years Eve as a proper grown up.

My Dad opened the door and found Chris Watson and Paul Kingsbury standing on the doorstep looking like they’d just stepped out of Burtons window.

He shouted up the stairs “Colin!! It’s Elton and Freddy for you” “Very funny!! I’ll be down in a minute”

I had one last check in the mirror. I had no fresh pimples to squeeze, my quiff stood exactly 6cm from my forehead and despite having a bright blue tongue my breath was fresh as a daisy.  I turned away from the mirror then spun back round pointing my fingers at my reflection “Ok Colin, knock em dead son” I say to myself “Knock who dead?” asked Katie as she stood there watching me “Mum!! Colin’s going to kill someone, he’s just said”

“Shut up!!” I say with more than a hint of embarrassment and head downstairs.

“All I’m saying is I think you’d all look smarter if you went out in suits”

“Ok thanks dad, come on lads lets go” I say opening the front door to save the lads from a pre Gok Wan fashion lesson. We head into the night feeling like superstars, but looking like bell ends. Paul discreetly hands out the condoms as we climb into the taxi.

1.30 am

I arrive back home and stagger up the path with a kebab and an unused condom and quietly put my key in the door. All this talk of Midnight tongue fests had turned out to be a pile of old bollocks.  You couldn’t get near a woman without a pack of angry boyfriends, ex’s or pimps swarming around you and either telling you to piss off or cough up.

I fall onto the couch with my kebab on my lap and put the telly on, “Oh nice one, here we go, the only way to end an unsuccessful night on the pull” Cocoon by Timerider was playing which meant only one thing “The Hitman and Her New Years Eve special”.

“That’ll do for me” I say to myself as I take a handful of sweaty, chilli smothered donna meat and cram it into my mouth. Michaela Strachan comes on the stage and she’s looking fine, she’s got a pair of dungarees on with a bra top underneath. “Ooh yes, it’s magic time here we go” Michaela takes to the stage and starts dancing with Clive, she spins around with her arms in the air and as Clive leans in to pick her up a magnificent sight appears right in front of my eyes. The side of Michaela Strachans left tit, it was only there for a split second but I spotted it.

I stuck the kebab down and went straight in for the kill. I thought about getting the condom out but there was no time for a poshie, I had to strike while the iron was hot and I thrust my hand down the front of my pants. Sadly for me the iron wasn’t the only thing that was hot, the chilli sauce that my hand was covered in was also bastard hot and my tallywacker felt like it was on fire. I yelped in agony as the chilli sauce worked its fiery magic on my pecker “Oh Jesus, the pain. Please someone make it stop.”  By this time I was on the floor with my hand still stuck down my trousers.  I hadn’t bothered with the formalities of undoing them first and just went straight in.

I fell onto my back and tried to wriggle my hand out of my pants when the volume on the telly went right down.  I looked up and there was my dad with the remote control.

He looked at me then looked at the telly, there was a bloke in a suit all over a girl on the dance floor at the Pleasuredrome in Blackpool

“See, he’s wearing a suit.  Goodnight son”

“Your round Col” “You’ve got a big head, now fuck off” Ste Doyle was (and still is) the master of dodging his turn at the bar. He’s dodged more rounds than The A Team and is as tight as BA’s dungarees. We had arrived at our first drinking hole (literally) of the night and Ste was already trying to avoid getting a drink, I had a mouth as dry as Gillian McKeith’s contraband smuggling knickers so gave in and headed to the bar.

Walshy headed to the fruit machine and as Ste had found a pound down the side of the taxi seat he went to the juke box. I got to the bar and asked for 3 pints and 3 Mirage and Lemonades, the barmaid looked at me as if I’d walked up and asked for a sniff of her clout.

“Can I have some ice in the mirages please love” I politely asked “No, 10.80” she un-politely replied “Why not?” “I don’t have to justify myself to you, 10.80” “looks like I’ve got myself a Warrington stand off” I thought to myself as Chaka Demus and Pliers came on. “Come on, I only want a bit of ice in my chaser, it’s not too much to ask is it?” I wasn’t backing down, no way not even to a barmaid with arms as wide as an elephants fanny.

She leant over the bar “Listen, knobhead” she said “that bouncer over there is my fella, and if you don’t take your drinks and get out of my face I’ll call him over and tell him you’ve just made a pass at me. He’ll rip that quiff off your head and feed it to your arse now TEN FUCKIN EIGHTY” I gave her one of my disappointed looks, turned round and looked at the bouncer, then turned back to her and said “theres 12, keep the change”

Ste and Walshy were sat at a table having what seemed to be a disturbing conversation “so would you use finger or thumb first” Walshy asked Ste. “Bloody hell, it’s just gone 9 and already you’re talking filth, can we not talk about something more sophisticated for at least the next hour” I said. “Ay, calm down Mary Whitehouse we’re talking about crown green bowls” said Walshy “Oh really, my dad plays that he loves it, when are you thinking of having a game?” I ask “tonight” Walshy replies as he stands up to go to the bar “I’m gonna pick some bird up, grab her pins and go for a strike”

“He’s off his cake that lad” say’s Ste to me “I know he is mate, you don’t get strikes in crown green bowls”

There once was a place in Warrington that the locals described as ‘Heaven on earth’ a magical place were love was found, harps were played as you walked through the door and you were greeted like the prodigal son every time you returned. It seemed a shame that such a wondrous place was given such a shit name as ‘Mr Smiths’.

I told the lads about it and we decided that at 20 we were old enough and experienced enough to step onto the next rung of the society ladder. The big night arrived and I was up in my room getting ready watching ‘Gladiators’ while my mum was downstairs ironing my favourite flowery shirt along with a nice white T-shirt to wear underneath. The phone rang, my dad answered and shouted up to me “Colin!! One of the Fun Boy Three is on the phone”. I came downstairs and picked up the phone “Alright Col it’s Walshy, what time are we meeting tonight?” “I’m not sure, about 8 I think have you asked Ste?” I said. “I haven’t rung him yet, I’ll ring him now and let you know what he says”. I rushed back upstairs as I wanted to see Jet do a back flip and try to get a glimpse of side tit.

I just make it into my room when the phone goes again “Colin, it’s Ste” my dad shouted. I ran back down and picked the phone up again “alright lad” Ste said “What’s happening tonight then”. “I’m not sure really, Walshy just rang and asked what time we were going, so I told him to ring you, has he called you?” I asked.

“I haven’t heard anything from him no, I’ll ring him now”. “Ok I said, let me know what he says”. I run back upstairs and am gutted to see Nightshade (the ugly Gladiator) was chasing a butch lesbian up a wall. The phone rings again, my dad answers, again!!!

“COLIN!!! It’s for you, again!!!” I run back down the stairs again “Alright mate, it’s Walshy. Ste’s phones engaged, have you heard from him?” he asks “Yes mate, he was just on the phone saying he hadn’t heard from you” I reply “Oh right, did you ask him what time we were going” “Erm, no I didn’t. Tell you what, I’ll ring him now and see what he says”.

“JESUS BLOODY CHRIST” my dad shouts, “wait there soft arse”. He walks out the front door, heads 3 doors down to No 5 and knocks on the door. Ste answers “Right, what time do you want to leave tonight?” my dad asks a shell shocked looking Ste “Erm, about 8” he says. “Right then, knock round at 8”. Walshy is still on the phone asking if white socks go with black pants when my dad walks through the door and grabs the phone receiver out of my hand “Walshy, get here for 8. I’ll give you a lift to the station” he puts the phone down. “See how easy it is soft arse? now get upstairs and get ready. Noels house party’s on and I don’t want to disturbed”.

I go back upstairs and decide to get in the mood by putting my M People album on. I dollop a load of Brylcream on my quiff, splash on about half a litre of my dads ‘Aramis’ aftershave and pop into the toilet to give myself a ‘personal wipe’ and make sure there are no yellow medals or brown merit badges in my boxers. There is a knock on the door, Ste and Walshy arrive bang on time. I stick my best pleated trousers on, give my black brogues one last shine and head downstairs feeling like Henry Ramsay. The lads are in the living room being told what going out was like when my dad was a lad.

“We always used to wear suits in our day, shoes perfectly polished and a nice shirt and tie from Blacklers. You shower look like your going to a police line up not on a bloody night out” he says as I walk in. “Ay up, here comes Casanova, right, get yourselves up, I’ll take you to the station”

We arrive at the station with the confidence well and truly drained out of us. I looked like Rick Astley after a good hiding, Ste looked like Lurch and Walshy’s pants looked 2 sizes too small. “Thanks dad, see you in the morning” I say as I close the door. “Ok son and remember if it wont swim in the Mersey don’t stick it in yer mouth”

After a short train ride we arrive in Warrington and head into the night. “I can’t wait to get into Mr Smiths, I bet there’s fanny everywhere. We won’t be able to move for it” Walshy says “It?” I say “It? You can’t call a woman it!! You need to have some respect” I explain with a look of pure disgust on my face. “What a load of bollocks” Walshy says “they hate all that respect stuff, you’ve just got to tell them straight, treat ‘em mean keep ‘em keen that’s what I say” “Who to, yourself? You won’t get anywhere like that” I tell him. “Ok, we’ll soon see who leaves on their own and it won’t be me. I’ll have you a bet?”

“I’m not betting anything, if the right girl for me isn’t in there and I don’t want to leave with anyone anyway”

“Col” says Ste “You’re a fuckin fanny”

We start off the night in a charming little shit hole called ‘The Benidorm Café’ which is a place that the term ‘Star Wars Bar’ was made for.  If you can imagine a dole office with broken glass all over the floor that sold cheap booze and had a tranny DJ then you wont be too far off the mark.  I walked into the toilet to find the only free urinal was next to an extremely pissed bloke in a Celtic shirt.  I was doing my utmost to avoid eye contact and in doing so ended up looking square at his tallywacker.

“areet” he said, I hoped to sweet jesus that he wasn’t talking to me “ah sid areet, ah yoo afuckinreet?” “Oh shit, he is talking to me” I said to myself “Oh hello” I replied, trying my best to be abrupt without being rude. “wuz rat yoo jus lookin at ma dack?” he grunted “Pardon me, I didn’t quite catch that” “ah yoo deef ya prack, ah sid wuz rat yoo jus lookin at ma dack?” I couldn’t understand a single word he was saying so to avoid insulting him by asking him a third time I pulled out the old favourite “Oh yes, very nice ha ha” he clearly hadn’t brushed up on his etiquette skills before he came out as he hit the fucking roof.  He let fly at me with his fists, thankfully he peed like an 8yr old so his skiddy undercrackers were round his ankles preventing him from moving to quickly .  I shook it, zipped it and fucked off before he could get near me and shuffled through the crowd to find the lads.

“Come on, we’re leaving” I said “Why what’s up” Chris asked “some Scottish lunatic has just let fly at me with his cock in the bogs”. “Oh stop being a fanny, sit down and finish yer pint” Walshy said shaking his head, aware that by now the bog monster would have put his cock away I had to think fast.  I looked at my watch “Oh shit, Sticky Vicky’s on in 5 minutes we need to go now to get a good speck” the lads had finished their drinks and were out the door before I’d finished my sentence.

We walk up to the club where the sticky one will be appearing next, the PR outside greets us, “Alright lads, get yerselves in ‘ere tonight and see the one and only Sticky Vicky” he shouts “It’s ok mate we’re coming in anyway” I explain. “Oh nice one lads, you’re in for a treat.  She came all the way from Italy in the 19……” “OH FUCK OFF WILL YER!!” I cut him short and head inside.

The lads had managed to get a seat right at the front of the stage “for frigs sake, I should of brought me brolly” I say to myself.  “I think we should sit a bit further away don’t you? There’s going to be all kinds flying about here.”  “I’m not going anywhere mate, I’m staying right here at the business end” Walshy says just as the lights go down and the DJ announces her entrance “ARE YOU READY?? I SAID ARE….YOU….READY?? HERE SHE IS, ALL THE WAY FROM FRANCE SHE’S BEEN ENTERTAINING YOU SINCE THE 50’S. THE ONE, THE ONLY ASTICKY AVICKY!!!!”

“The 50’s? bloody hell, her clackers going to look Freddie Krugers ball bag after a dose of crabs” I moan as the star attraction enters the stage. Sticky Vicky was easily in her 60’s but her busters didn’t look a day older than 3.  Her arse looked like one of them wrinkly Chinese dogs and her belly looked a Spanish omelette.  “What on earth have I let myself in for” I thought as she reached between her legs and pulled out a Sherlock Holmes pipe.  The crowd went wild for it as the list of objects continued.   A Union Jack, a string of pearls, a bottle of tonic water then a teddy bear, it was like a fishy generation game. She even managed to open the tonic water with her foo foo before sticking a light bulb up there and switching it on.  I have to admit I was quite impressed with her agility but made a mental note not to order a Vodka and Tonic.  I had hoped the sweaty tonic water was the big finale but the best, or worst as it turned out was yet to come.

The mucky old boot walked over to where I was sat and lay on her back legs akimbo, my stomach turned and my eyes begged for me to jam a pen in them as she pulled out the biggest string of sausages I have ever seen.  One by one they kept popping out as the crowd yelled for more, finally the last one popped out and she stood up to rapturous applause. “Thank god for that, right lads lets go” I turned around to walk off and the crowd let out a huge roar.  I turn back round and see Sticky Vicky swinging the soiled bangers over her head and let them fly.  They slap me right in the mouth much to the crowd and especially the lads delight.  “OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD GET ME A DRINK QUICK. I CAN TASTE KIPPERS,GET ME A DRINK NOW!!!” I grab the first drink I can find which sadly for me was a bottle of tonic water.

“I bet you won’t want to eat sausages again for a while will you mate?” Chris says patting my back between pukes “No mate, or wafer thin ham”

“Right lads, got tonight’s entertainment sorted, feast your eyes on this” Walshy had been for a walk to stock up on much needed supplies of Beans and Sausages and had been handed a flyer by someone in the town.

“Sticky Vicky!! Who the frigs that?” I ask. “She’s some fit bird called Vicky from England that moved over here in the late 80’s and she fills bars with her show every night” he explained wiping saliva from his mouth. “I presume she isn’t called Sticky Vicky because she decorates cakes on stage then?”

“Oh no mate, this is much better than that. She pulls things out of her fanny”. Ste Doyle sits bolt upright “Whose got cakes?” he asks with a face like a lion that’s spotted a Zebra havin a kip. “Nobody mate, but check out these buns” Walshy says handing him the flyer.

“Fuck me, Sticky Vicky!! I’ve been told all about her, she moved over here from Amsterdam in the 60’s and she’s been filling bars ever since. She pulls all kinds out of her flu, I’m havin a bit of that like”. Jonny comes walking back from the bar “Aye Aye what’s all this then?” Walshy hands him the filthy flyer. “Sticky Vicky!! Who the frigs that?”

“Well” I reply “she’s some bird whose from England and Amsterdam who came here at some point between the 60’s and the 80’s and has been filling bars, and her clacker ever since” “Oh I’ve heard of her yes, she’s actually German and has been here since the 70’s. Pint?”

I grab a pint off him “Well wherever she comes from I bet her dad’s very disappointed”.

Later that day we are joined by another two of the lads Kingo and Chris Watson, they’ve flown out to join us for the second week of our holiday. We meet up in ‘Smokies’ which was a cafe run by a foul mouthed woman from Rotherham and her husband who wore cut down denim jeans that were so short a bollock would pop out every time he sat down to take your order.

“Oh fuckin ‘ell ‘eres them scouse bastards back again. Alright lads how the fuck are yer?” The potty mouthed proprietor asks. “we’re fuckin erm, we’re fine thanks flower” I reply “table for fuckin four is it” she asks “no, there’s fuc………there’s er 6 of us now, two more of the lads have turned up” “Oh fuck me so there is, TONY!!! TONY!!!” she screams at her hot pant wearing husband who comes running out from the back. “Pull those fucking tables together, there’s 6 of the bastards now”

Kingo’s not impressed “the fuckin language out of her? Where’s the bogs in here Col? I need a shite” “Just through the back there mate but I’d hang on if I was you. The toilets are even filthier than the language”

He sits back down as Tony tiny trousers comes over to take our order. “Right lads, what’ll it be? 6 full English breakfasts?” Ste jumps in “er yes, 6 LARGE Smokey specials please” Kingo steps in “Just a small one for me please, I’m not that hungry” Ste looks at Kingo as if he’s just told the waiter to piss in his Fanta Limon.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing Kingo?” Ste says “people like you piss me off!!” “how do you mean?” a shocked looking Kingo asks “You know I’ll finish off anything you can’t eat so why order a small one? It’s just fuckin selfish” “I’m not paying for a large brekky just so’s you can finish it off you cheeky shite” Kingo says. “Well it’s not all about you is it. You can forget all about lending my lilo now”

The waiter steps in “Ok so that’s 5 large breakfasts and 1 small one, no problem. Do you want beans or plum tomatoes?” The lads tell him what they want as I’m watching Jim MacDonald trying to chase Liz round the rovers in his wheelchair. “What about you mate, do want beans or your usual plum tomatoes?” I look over and spot that his bollock has made a bid for freedom.

“erm, you know what…..I’ll have beans for a change”

“Who the frig is that sitting in your back garden?” Jonny Baker asked me.  “No idea mate, it looks like Margie Clarke and Barbara Cartland are havin a brew with me dad, lets have a butchers”

It was the morning of our holiday to Benidorm and after a visit to QS Discounts for some soon to be redundant Durex we arrived back home to find Ste ‘Bombhead’ Doyle and Ian ‘Steptoe’ Walsh had returned from a trip to the hairdressers.  It was 1995 when Gazza was causing a storm with his peroxide blonde look, Walshy decided to emulate him and had a bright white barnet that made him look like an albino matchstick and Ste looked like a Rhino with a Peggy Mitchell wig on.

“Alright ladies, love the haircuts very stylish” I said, Ste looked very pleased with himself “cheers lad, Janice the hairdresser said it makes me look very masculine” he proudly remarked.  “Jam Jar Janice? She’s blind as a bloody bat her.  She told me I’ll be bald by the time I’m 28 so I wouldn’t listen to her” I replied.

"Hunters got a perm and he's well hard"

“Well I like it and that’s all that counts, right I’ve got to go the gym and work on me pecs then pick up some hair lacquer.  Me dads picking Walshy up at 4 and we’ll get here just after ok?”

4.45pm Ste eventually turns up “where’ve you been soft lad, check ins at 5” I said “I had to go back for me passport didn’t I” “you tithead” I said “ay it’s not my fault, me mum didn’t leave it on me bed like I told her to” “ha ha, did you ask her to put it on top of your little sailor suit so you didn’t forget it? Ha ha”.

“Shut up and get in baldy” he snapped “what, I’m not going bald…shut up” I said having a sly look at my reflection in the window.  We arrive at the airport and this time we manage to avoid a security alert and get safely through to the departure lounge.  We have a quick look around the shops and after buying a massive toblerone, a plastic tube of miniature dime bars and a tie we board the plane and we’re on our way.

"I'm not going bald, I've just got very fine hair"

12pm local time and we arrive at the Hotel Flamingo II, A 35 story salmonella ridden shithole that was guarded by 2 massive security guards that wouldn’t have looked out of place chasing Arnie in The Running Man.  I hate heights so luckily for me we were on the 29^th floor.  “This place is a fuckin dump” I said “I can’t believe they’ve made 2 of them, they should have learnt from the Jaws films and just left it at the one” I complain.

"I just hope we're not too high up..............Oh for fucks sake"

We get in the room and decide whose sleeping where, by that I mean Ste shoved us out the way, burst through the door and put his suitcase on the biggest bed.  He then locked the bedroom door while he filled the wardrobe with all of the clothes his mum had packed for him.  “Ok lads, come in and have a look at what I’ve got for you”. Walshy looked worried “He better not be bollocko in there, I’m a bit worried about him with that bloody perm.  Walshy likes the easy pink not the tight brown Walshy does”

We nervously open the door and pop our heads around the corner, thankfully Ste isn’t bollocko but he’s unpacked about 200 quids worth of Piz Buin sun cream.  “Where the hell have you got all this from lad” I asked “I slipped one of the security lads at the warehouse a few quid to turn a blind eye and stuck em in me boot”

"I'll keep an eye on the door while you load the car" "nice one, keep the other one on me"

“How many blind eyes did he have, it must have taken a few trips to get this lot in yer car” I asked “I don’t know mate, but my brown eye was twitchin like fuck at the time.  Right let’s get on it”  We head out for first night out in Blackpool in the sun.

5am and we stumble back to the Flamingo II which was not only a cesspit it was also on the top of a big bastard hill which a lazy fat bastard like me didn’t appreciate.  We get back to the room and decide to carry on with the party spirit and get the ghetto blaster out.  JB being an Evertonian sticks ELO’s ‘Mr Blue Sky’ on at full volume while simultaneously twatting a pan on Walshys head with a metal ladle.

Ste bursts into the living room “have some of this you fuckers” he’s opened up 3 bottles of Piz Buin, he stuffs ones in his pocket and sprays the other two all over us.  “Right ball bag” Jonny says as he runs into the room and grabs as many bottles as he can.  A full scale factor 8  with skin darkening enrichments riot breaks out in the room, Jonny proves men can actually multi-task by covering my Beautiful South t-shirt with suncream and smacking the pan which was now on my head with the ladle.

BANG BANG BANG BANG!!!!

There is a loud knock on the door “Shit, turn the music off” I shout “If we keep still I reckon they’ll go away”. “It might be some women looking for some Walshy lovin, I’m letting them in” Walshy walks to the door and looks through the peephole. “OPEN THE FACKIN DOOR EEDIOTS” a very deep menacing voice shouts.

"keeep dee noise down you peegs....eez that a perm?"

“Fuckin hell, it’s the law” Walshy says as he bolts through the room and out onto the balcony.  “OPEN THE DOOR RIGHT FACKIN NOW” he shouts again.  “Ok,Ok I’m coming I shout back” I say calling the lads into the room “right, JB and Walshy you get in the living room and keep quiet Ste you jump in the bog and come out as if nothings happened in 2 minutes.  I’ll handle this”

The lads follow my instructions and I compose myself to open the door “here goes nothing” I open the door and am confronted by the two massive mental looking security guards.  “What the hell is going on in this fackin room, guests complain about music and shouting” the one who can speak asks “oh nothing, sorry about the music I didn’t realise it was that loud” I reply whilst following through.

“So what was all the screaming, you fight?” Mental Manuel asks “Oh no, that was me I get a bit excited after a days travelling and I was just unloading.  I guess I got a bit carried away”

Ste comes walking out of the toilet in just his boxers after putting his sun cream soaked jeans in the sink to clean them.  He winks at the guards “Oh hi lads, sorry about the mess, he covered me from head to toe in his cream and I unloaded one in me pocket”

"Hello boys!! ooh look at the muck in 'ere"

The guards look at Ste’s hair dripping with cream and look confusingly at each other, “What’s going on in here” they point into the living room and walk in to find Jonny whose holding the massive bar of Toblerone at crotch height and standing over Walshy whose wiping sun cream off himself with a towel.

“Oh hi lads, what a night Ste had about 10 litres to shift and started off by splashing it on me” Walshy explains. ” Do you want a piece of this” Jonny aks pointing at the massive Toblerone sticking from his nether regions.

“You dirty bastardo English pigs make me sick” the two massive lunatics shout as they storm out of the room.

“What did they mean by that?” Ste asks me “No idea mate” I replied “but from the way they were looking at your perm I reckon they might be gay”.

Walshy and Jonny before the dawn raid

At the Wacky Warehouse I met the thickest person I’ve ever come across in my life.  He was about around 21 or 22 and as he was from a council estate he already an army of kids.  I knew he was thick as soon as I told him Sheffield Wednesday was a bank holiday in Yorkshire and all the shops shut.

Sadly for him the people running the warehouse were also thick as shit and decided I was the best person to help the new boy settle in.  I’m not going to lie to you, I spent every single day winding the stupid little tit up and he always managed to supply me with plenty of ammo.  Like myself Lee was a fan of Liverpool FC although he’d never actually been to a match.  He was one of the new generation of SKY SPORTS fans and only ever watched them from the comfort of his Brighthouse sofa.

"life is like an East 17 album, fuckin shit"

Liverpool were playing local rivals and horrible bastards Everton on a Monday evening and on the morning of the match I managed to get hold of a couple of spare tickets.  I decided to give Forrest Gump a break and asked him if he wanted to go “oi Forrest Gump do you fancy going the Derby” I asked him, well his Burberry cap nearly flew off with excitement “Oh wow mate, that’s top I’d love to go nice one”.  He ran off with excitement to ring his pregnant girlfriend and tell her not to put any Crispy Pancakes under the grill as he wouldn’t be home for tea.

"you wanker, I've spent all day fuckin defrostin this lot"

“I can’t wait mate, so excited me” he said “good lad, I hope you enjoy it.  Have you called Sky to tell them you’re going?” I asked him with the cogs in my brain working overtime.  “erm, no mate I’ve rung me bird and asked her to tape Police, Camera, Action though.  Why?”

“Well if you subscribe to Sky and you actually go to a match that they’re showing you have to ring them and tell them you’re going” I advised, thinking he’d never believe me.  “Ay? What do I ‘av to do that for?” he asked.  “If you tell them you’re going and where you’ll be sitting they’ll look out for you and if they spot you they’ll give you your money back for the game”.

"Oh look Richard, there's Lee from Warrington" "Ha ha ha, ha ha ha, thick as shit Andy"

“Bloody hell, how goods that?” the silly fucker asked “It’s pretty good mate, they want people to still go to the match instead of just watching it on the telly, so they refund any customers that go”.  “What a stupid little prick” I thought to myself.  “Well I can’t ring em now I aint got the number on me” he said “Don’t worry mate, I’ve already rung them and said you’ll be going they said if you post the ticket stub to them they’ll send you a cheque”.

“Nice one, you’re a good lad you Col”.

A few days after the match he said he was still waiting for his cheque from SKY.  “They cheeky bastards haven’t sent me cheque yet Col, what should I do?” he asked looking like somebody had nicked his East 17 album.  “Shit, sorry mate I forgot to say you only get the refund if the team you support wins so because it was a draw we’ll all miss out”

“I thought it was too good to be true mate, bastards” he said shaking his head like a bell end “I know mate, it’s a bitch I nearly cancelled my subscription the first time it happened to me”.

“I’m never cancelling mine mate, no way” he said leaning in toward me as if he was going to tell me one of his kids is  Clives off the Hitman and Her.  “I’ve discovered a free porn channel, it’s top mate.  You see the lot, tits, arse and even a fanny.  I always stick it on when me bird goes to bed”.

"nice one, Norwegian weathers on"

“It’s not that Live TV channel is it, the one with topless darts and all that?” I quizzed.  “Yeah mate that’s it, it’s proper filth” he replied.  “how much do you enjoy it Lee, I mean do you really enjoy it” I said with a wink and little tap of the nose.

“I’ve just told you it’s top ‘aven’t I, I love it me” he said with a more confused than usual look on his face.  “I know mate, but there’s enjoying porn, and there’s really enjoying porn” same wink but this time a few more taps on me nose.  “’ow many times do I ‘ave to say it YES!! I think it’s good and I like it” he said.  “What I mean is do you have a little fiddle with yer sausage while your watching it” I said, the penny finally dropped.

“Aahh, I see ha ha I have done like yes I’m only human aren’t I” he said “Well you’ll probably get a bill for a fiver then” I told him.  “a fuckin fiver, what for?” he asked “well you know that little red sensor at the front of the digibox?” meaning the remote control sensor.  “Yes of course I do, do you think I’m stupid or something?”  I resisted the obvious answer and gave him some inside info.  “Well inside that there’s a little camera right, and it comes on when you put any of the porn channels or when there’s a bit of tit on any of the other channels, if you crack one off while it’s on they charge you a fiver.  Now, this is a bit of a personal question but did you finish yourself off?”

"ok charge Lee in Warrington a fiver, oh hang he's reaching for a sock make that a tenner"

“well erm, I did yeah” he said “well that’s a tenner then mate, they charge you more for that” I said “You should do what I do.  I always place a mirror in front of the telly and another at a certain angle outside the bathroom door and have a go in there.  The bastards haven’t spotted me yet”

“tell you what Col, you’ve got it sussed pal nothing sticks to you does it”

“No mate it doesn’t, not apart from me boxer shorts anyway”

The warehouse I worked at would quite literally employ anyone to do any job of any responsibility, if you could get yourself dressed in the morning and eat your golden grahams without assistance you were in and could quite easily end up as warehouse manager.  So you can imagine the type of people they took on to clean the shitters.

The crack team of cleaners were Big Bellied Sid, Uncle Fester Dave and Pissy Ken.  They were led by Brian ‘do you wanna go faster’ Jones who looked like he was equally at home working the waltzers as he was cleaning shit graffiti off toilet walls.  The names they were given weren’t exactly imaginative as they pretty much describe them perfectly, Sid had a big belly, Dave looked like Uncle Fester from The Adams Family, Brian looked like a gypo and Ken fuckin stunk.

I worked outside their store cupboard which meant I very often ran into at least one of the ‘Pooh Crew’ at regular intervals and it was harder to get rid of them than it was to get the yellow stains out of Pissy Kens undercrackers.  I remember one occasion when Pissy Ken spent 15 minutes telling me in great detail how his brother fitted a ‘fuckin great big sssshhhower’ (he always whistled when he said anything beginning or ending with an ‘S’ hence the ssssssss I’ll use from now on) I came away covered in more spray than any shower could ever produce and wishing he’d actually use the bastard thing more often as he smelt like a pensioners coach trip to Presthaven Sands.

"Stop the bus I need a wee wee, aaaaaaaaaaaahhh, it's ok drive on"

Despite being a right smelly bastard Pissy Ken was a really nice fella, unlike his Brother-in-law Big Bellied Sid who was a right bell end.  He’d decided to make a stand against the canteen putting the price of a brew up from 10 to 15 pence (he was a tight bell end as well) and started making his own jug of instant tea using an urn he’d found on a skip.  I walked into the canteen one day and was called over by Pissy Ken “here Colin, sssssssit down and ‘av a lovely brew with ussss”.

"Ok Sid, I'll have a cup of tea but I don't fancy a chocolate finger"

“my sweet lord” I said to myself as I looked down at the jug of tea that looked like each one of the Pooh Crew had sieved through his undies.  “Erm, no it’s alright I’ll get one from here” I put my hand in my pocket and discovered I’d left my money in my jacket.  I considered asking the woman on the till if I could get a cuppa and pay her later, then I remembered word had previously got back to her that I said she had a face like Mrs Doubtfire lickin piss off a nettle and she hated serving me at the best of times.  “Oi come on ssssssssoft arsssssse, come and have ssssssome of thissssss”.

"come and get some of Mrs Doubtfires special sauce, you baldy twat"

With a mouth as dry as Ghandi’s flip flop I had no other option.  I sat down and watched as Big Bellied Sssssssid poured a cup of rancid ‘tea’ into a mug that was filthier than Katie Price.  “There you go Colin, get that down you lad” ssssaid Sssssid.  “Just grin and bare it son and it’ll all be over soon” I thought as I brought the mug toward my terrified lips.  I hadn’t drunk anything this brown since I jumped into the River Weaver to get away from the ‘Weaver Wanker’ who’d flashed his cock at me and me mates when I was a kid.

I was contemplating whether to drink it or accidently pour it over me bollocks when Brian ‘do you wanna go faster’ Jones burst in and said someone had shat on the bog floor and they had to ssssssshooot.  “Ssssssaved by the sssssmell” I said as the colour slowly returned to me cheeks.

"scream if you wanna go faster" "I'll scream if I drink this bastard tea"

My all time favourite Pissy Ken moment came when me and my mate Andy were chatting to him, he’d recently sssssssubscribed to cable TV with cable and wirelessssssss and was ‘basssstard furiousssssss’ that his digibox was ‘basssstard ssssssssssshagged’.

Andy told him he’d previously had the same kind of problem and that he’d rung them to complain about the state of his ‘shit box’.  He said it worked a treat and he forced them to send them a new one.  “seriously Ken, just keep talking about your shitbox and they’ll cave in and send you a new one” Andy advised.  “I fuckin well will ssssssssunny boy, I’m fuckin well ssssssssssssssick of it” Pissy ranted as he walked off.  “What a sssssssstupid bastard” Andy said “I can’t wait to hear how he gets on”.

The next day we spotted Pissy Ken and called him over “Alright Ken” I shouted “did you complain about your shitbox sorted last night?”.

“Yesssss, they’re fuckin ‘opelesssss them basssstards, ssssssssome ssssstupid ssssssplit arssssssse anssswered.  I told her me sssssshitbox was playing up and I wanted her to come and ssssssee to it but ssssshe wassss having none of it.  I went fuckin mad, I sssssaid all your boxessss are ssssssshit and if she didn’t ssssssort it out I’d go round and sssssssmash her ssssssshitbox right in”

"please to be minding your language Mr Pissy Ken Sir"

Andy was doing his best to keep a straight face “well did they sssssort, I mean sort it out?”

“No, ssssshe fuckin cut me ssssky off”

Lovely man, thick as sssssssshit.