50 Shades of the Toon I knew as soon as I walked through the door from dropping the bairn off at school that I was ganna get some. I peeped through the fist hole in the living room door and saw the half a roly burning away in the ashtray perched on the arm of me new Brighthouse corner settee. The telly was turned reet doon, ah cudn't even hear what Lorraine was sayin aboot the new fashions for ...the summer or nowt. Then a saw him, and me heart skipped a beat (just like that Ollie Murs). He'd obviously had a crisis loan and been doon the metty coz he was wearing a fresh new trackie bottoms and brand new pair of flossies, his rippling white chest peeped out from behind the zip of his supadry coat, that was sexily only zipped halfway up, just enough to cover the tack burns but give me a cheeky glimpse of what was to come. He pulled me towards him and whispered "Y'all reet pet" before planting the lips on me, I trembled under the aroma of Golden Virginia and stale Bella. He took me there and then, right on the Argos rug whilst our staffy Tyson looked on. He left without a word, but he would return soon, with tales of a fight in the Jobcentre queue and his joy at finding a pound coin on the floor of the 54. I tried to settle myself with a tab and a can but all the while that one question burned in my heart........ Will he remember my pasty from Greggs???
I didn't think he had, I just hoped he did. He rarely comes into my thoughts unless I'm trying to describe what being an old fat **** on a power trip is. ER's half arse fishing shame.
You're 50 stone of ****e. Now **** off back to the Sunderland board where you're desperate at homour attempts are tolerated.
nerve hit I feel by smooth talker from the typing pool, BTW its not mine but thanks for giving me the credit.
Declan appeared in the doorway, beads of sweat dripping down his pasty forehead and on to his 2005/06 Celtic home shirt. "That ****in lifts knackurt again. Sooner we get oot these flats the better. That's twice this week ah've hud tae come up aw they ****in stairs wi a load a' this copper piping me an' John Paul robbed fae that auld hun school!" "Aye", croaked Bernadette, resplendent in her Larsson King of Kings t-shirt and purple velour jog pants. "Ah'm pyoor sick a' trailing they seven weans up and doon they stairs an aw! Wee Mary Theresa puked up her Greggs sausage roll earlier efter gettin' tae the 12th flair! Anyhow nevermind that, her, wee Declan, Jinky, Henrik and Josephine are in the bed, Martin's away tae get me ***s and Erin's oot trying tae score so we've got peace. 'Mere an' get me pumped!", she demanded, loosening her hair from the greasy scrape back ponytail it had been in for three days. "Ah've shaved ma pie n everyhin!" "Might as well. Canny watch the telly efter that orange basturt up the stair caught us stealing his Sky." said Declan, as he lifted his green and off white hooped shirt to reveal a scrawny set of ribs, three stab wounds and a tattooed portrait of Pope John Paul II. Bernadette forced the stained velour jog pants over her somewhat oversized hips. "Huv yoo nae scants oan?" quizzed Declan. "Aye", screeched Bernadette, " Ah've goat a thong oan - ye just cannae see it for ma belly". With that the sweaty pair embraced and launched themselves on their purple leather DFS sofa, upon which all payments had been defaulted. "Ye can pit it up ma digger if ye want" remarked Bernadette. "Any mair weans and we'll struggle tae make the giro stretch tae a full week's chicken nuggets in Farmfoods." The mere mention of anal sex brought back all of those terrible memories for Declan. He lashed out and caught Bernadette with a right hook and began to reach for a nearby length of liberated copper piping...
