I hadn't seen my bestest chums since before Xmas, so I went to see them tonight. Not sure they'll want to be my friends anymore though, after subjecting them to the Killer Yoghurt movie (not a patch on killer tomatoes. Not even a cabbage patch - more a garbage pail).
THE STUFF - ENOUGH IS NEVER ENOUGH!
However, one that'd finished, and we'd watched an episode of Starsky & Hutch, there came a program called Virgin School!
Now, being single, We watched the first 15 mins to see where I'm going wrong on the bird pulling front*.
It started out promising - apparently, you have to have a confident strut, like John Travolta in the opening titles of Saturday Night Fever. After that, it seems more like a case of 'get yerself to Amsterdam and nob some decrepit old nanna'.
I can't be arsed to trek to Amsterdam, so I think on Saturday I shall begin trying to bag meself a bird. I'll leave The Yeti at home (which is a bugger, coz I brushed it up all spick and span this arvo!), and doll up in some confident looking clobber.
Then I shall strut a-la Travolta up & down Gentlemen's Walk, maybe throwing in a couple of double pointers a-la Peter Porker in Spiderpig-3. You know where he starts dancing about, and doing them pistol firing moves at hot tottie.
Maybe I'll even touch a few on the shoulder, and draw my finger back at speed saying "pssssss - you're HOT baby! Smokin'!" then doing a spin before firing the double gun salute at 'em then sauntering up the street.
I can join the ranks of Marigold & Puppet Man as one of them loveable eccentrics of Norwich!
Hey, Baby, check you out!
* BEING FAT, UGLY, TOO NERVOUS TO SPEAK TO THE LADIES, AND HAVING NOWT TO DISCUSS WITH BIRDS FOR A START. EVEN I COULD TELL YOU THAT!!
