Coffee milk steamer, why are we always tuna or later...

A bad batch of beans in the blender!
A purloined panini palava!
I'd rather have Chlöe
All nudie with Sophie
In cinnamon swirl frosting a-slather!

"Eww! A poem we don't need to see

of Starbucks siren fantasies!

What if they read this

And get really pissed

And think that your mind is diseased!"

Ha! As if anyone reads this shite
I can perv o'er who I like!
With no repercussions
or awkward discussions
the worse they can say's "Take a hike!"

"...or have you roughed up

till blood you cough up.

And though they be stunners

they'll soon become shunners

And your orders for lattés rebuffed!"

Shit, I reckon I'd better not mention
The list of babes for whom I've affection
Like ----- and ---
------ and ---¹
In case I get unwanted attention such as a damn good kicking, a public shaming, extreme embarrassment and having to hide in social exclusion forevermore. or something.

¹ NOW, THE QUESTION IS... WHO ARE THESE FOUR! IS THERE JUST FOUR, OR WHOLE LOT MORE? COULD IT BE JUST ONE WITH THREE ADDED TO THROW YOU OFF THE PHEREMONAL SCENT? DOES THE NUMBER OF HYPHENS MATCH THE NUMBER OF LETTERS OF THEIR NAME? OOOOOH, INTRIGUE! IT COULD BE YOU... UNLESS YOU'RE A BLOKE, IN WHICH CASE, IT'S DEFINATELY NOT YOU.

Oh sit down, Oh sit down, Oh sit down , sit down SOMEWHERE ELSE...

What is it with people these days?

What's worse:
● A cunt being a cunt; or
● A person asking a question, not getting the answer they want, THEN being cunt?

Case in point: Last week we were in The Owl Sanctuary, and some drunken bumbling fuckwit falls onto us and grips the empty chair.

Drunk Gobshite: "Excushe me mate, ish thish sheat free?"
Me: "Sorry, it's taken. They're just having a fag."
Inebriated cockwind:" OK, Cool."

And he walks off with the chair!

And today, sat in Starbucks¹ (no S♥phie - boo :( BUT Chl♥e has gone from White Hair [win] to Bright Red Hair [Epic Win with extra ♥♥♥!]), where I expect several other caffeine compatriots to join me. So, I gets a table in the ærie, when two foreigners arrive.

Not-So-Loving Couple: "Excusings, we may have the joining you seating please?"
Me: "Sorry, they're taken. I'm expecting the others to arrive any moment."
Sour-faced Bint & Misery Man:" OK, Cool."

And they plonk themselves down anyway! 

Now, I'd be annoyed if they'd just helped themselves to basking in my presence without asking first - but to ask first and then disregard my response... well, that just pisses me off even more!

AND they had obviously just split up. She's almost in tears, being abrupt with him, wanting nowt to do woth him, and chewing a wasp. He's hovering, petting, touching, haltingly whispering pleadingly at her, and dragging the atmos right down!

Perhaps next time, I'll make it more obvious:

The Next ClitHood Smegma Scrape: "Can I take this chair, or sit here?"
Me: "NO! THERE'S A REASON WE'VE ALREADY CLAIMED IT. NOW FUCK OFF AND DIE YOU PISS MIDGETED PISS-STREAM!"
BanjoString Cockcheese "OK, Cool."
And if they proceed to take the chair/sit down anyway...
Me: "OI! WHAT PART OF NO DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?! DO YOU SERIOUSLY WANT A PUNCH IN THE TITS. PUT THE CHAIR BACK AND BACK AWAY SLOWLY...!"

Grrrrrr!

¹ APOLOGIES TO MY TOPPEST OF TOP PRETTIES, BUT I COULDN'T RESIST! AT LEAST IT WASN'T A GMO PUMPKIN LATTÉ.

Edward! He's trying to grab my pet-trol...

♪ No More Starbucks Anymore ♫

So sang The Stranglers at Karaoke night down The Ferryboat (before offing off a plethora of prozzies), and how true those words are today!

For one of my tip top hot dames has despoiled my beloved beverage!

It's only 4 weeks until Autumn (or Fall¹ for our dumbed down overseas cousins), which means the second greatest latté based beverage known to man is back.

The Starbucks Pumpkin Latté!

I now has to consider this:

First up - the adding of carcinogenic ammonia! Ammonia! You know what that means.

The serving wenches are pissing in it!

Now, I'm up for golden shower just as much as you are, but I don't really want my creamy goodness ruined with warm widdle, and having to flick a barista babe's pubic lice off my cocoa dustings!

And it's made with Monsanto Milk, bulked up with GMO corn! Well, isn't Monsanto that bloke who played Khan Noonien Singh? I don't care how much he makes a Pretties noonie sing, he's not dumping his man-milk as a creamy topper on MY beverage - no matter how much Garmonbozia he's had! I'm not getting cancer off of his septic spunkings1

I don't mind 50g of sugar, and I like the sound of Ambiguous Natural Flavour, but I draw the line at them running a line from the garage and topping up my coffee with petrol... unless we're back to Tubbs Tattysyrup's petrol, which means MORE piss in my drink!

But what's more worrying is, as the photo shows, you can peel away half the cup, and the coffee remains standing! Lookit! A dirty great half cut out the cup just below the lid, and the fluid had yet to succumb to gravity!

On the plus side, with half a cup, there's nowhere to write my name, so they can't continue to spell it wrong!

¹ SO NAMED BECAUSE IT'S WHEN ALL THE LEAVES FALL OFF ALL THE TREES IS EASIER FOR AMERICANS TO REMEMBER. ASSOCIATING FALL, AND ALL, LEAVES AND TREES IS FAR EASIER FOR AMERICANS TO REMEMBER THAN THE SIMPLE EXPEDIENT OF ADHERING TO THE CALENDAR BASED DATAGE OF THE AUTUMNAL EQUINOX! 

The Xym in St Stephens & Haymarket Starbucks...

If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be braiding...

Beards.

I admit to having a slight toblerone merkin on me chin, but there are those who enjoy great lengths of facial furniture.

A length that requires it to be braided into a dwarven style to keep it under control.

But it's very length defies control, as you sit at table, for often it will dip unnoticed into your caffeinated beverage of choice. or tea. Even cameltoe tea.

But is this liquid contact accidental at all?

Perhaps it hides a BrundleFly proboscis, hidden within the hairy braids? Sucking up liquids through a hidden beardy straw... or does the hairy human feed by capillary action? As the tip of Gimli's twat tickler engages with the mocha meniscus, does it draw up the fluid along it's braided channels and into the corners if it's mouth?

Who knows?

Not me, but what I do know is that with a great length of slim chinbeard, you could roll it up around a pencil with some product, and remove the pencil when it's set.

Then you have a chin coil spring thing!

Not only will it prevent impregnation when performing oral sex, but it can be utilised to power clockwork stuffs, and literally turn your visage into a steampunk watch face!

Attach a couple of hands to your nose, and hey presto! What time is it? Well, the big hand is on forehead, the little hand on right eye - 1 o'clock! Oh, it's mouth to left cheek - must be half nine!

And all powered by naught but spring loaded facial foliage!

How come them there Greybeards never think up this stuff? Call themselves clever? They spend years playing with iron filings and litmus paper to prove black holes are caused by 2 Higg's bo'suns havin it off, and I come up with an environmentally practical idea off the too of me head!

Wasted, I am. Wasted, I tell you! All this genius going to waste when I could be time travelling via the use of chronological cheese.

Time after time!

Friday? But it's Nude Tuesday at The Dentons...

Dagnimmitynammit! 

It's Dec 6th and Go To Work Nude Day, and The Rustmobile is broke! 

I'm stuck in Catton Stuck waiting on an alternator being fitted, which means I can't get to The City...

... therefore missing out on my Starbucks Serving Wenches & HMV Babes all nudified :(. 

There'd better be hot Tavern Slatterns baring all behind the bar in The Wildman & Whatacunt t'neet!!

Lunchtime lech...

Being unemployed DOES have some advantages, you know.

Such as meeting up with other unemployed chums for a chinwag in Starbucks.

However, not MY Starbucks. I've been cheating on my sultry Starbucks wenches with another branch (luckily where one of my hotties has been reassigned to!).

And for why? Why leave your reserved space on St Stephens?

Well, for one, it's my compatriots favourite store, and you know me - always deferring to the wishes of others.

And second, the Lunchtime Lech!

See, Haymarket Starbucks has a counter running along the windows wall that looks out on Gentleman's Walk. Gentleman's Walk? Gentlemen's Wankbank, more like!

Lookit all the lovelies leaving for lunch! Passing pretties aplenty on the busiest street! Secretaries in short, airy skirts being blown about by the wind to interesting effect! Downblousing décolletés of dames sat below and the flossing of their labourers cleft with their gaping jeans!

And to think, I used to be stuck in an office compiling COBOL programs and JCL when I could be stuck in an orifice. or something,

Duffin my arse...

"But Xym, it's a Muffin... AND a doughnut! A duffin!"

Sorry, I think you'll find it's actually a Muffnut.

That said, asking my harem of Starbucks serving wenches to give me muffnuts could give them the wrong impression.

Although, this IS "Teh" Xym, so wouldn't be all that wrong, now would it!

Sophie Cinnamon...

Served by my sexy Sarbucks siren, a warmed up cinnamon swirly bun thingy...

With a gingybread latté...

THIS is heaven!

Gym'll fix it...

Now then, now then, goodness gracious!

Apart from straws doing the Honka-Honka, we were treated to most impressive mammarial thrustage!

It seems that down "The Gym" (some place where people go to do something called "exercise") there's all these oiled up blokes who just stand there watching womens in camel hoofed leoturds and boob-tubial tops doing some form of "press".

One which apparently required The Ladies to raise their arms up, so that their upper arm is 90° to the floor, but extended away from the body, with the forearms upright, so they look something like this:

Ψ

Now, the arms are brought to the front to meet, pressing the forearms together. 

Then, the arms revert backwards whilst simultaneously thrusting forth your busoms.

I could've spent all afternoon watching Carla demonstrating that!

Perhaps I can get a new craze going alongside The Fisty Dance at The Whatacunt next time we're out...

Chesticle thrustings, accompanied by a honka-honka squeak of hornyness.

or something...

Choc, choc, don't eat the choc...

Yay! First day back at work, and I already has had generic waste and vitrolic abuse flung at me by the Iceland tramp.

Anyhoo, coz Holidayz is over, it's time for Xym to get in shape. Again...

So, last year, I aimed to lose [umpteen] stone to get slim & trim and stuff, and ended up losing just Arthur Stone, and continued to gorge on pies, choclit and fizzy.

But no mores! THIS year is THE year! And am doing well thus far.

After avoiding the litter wielding bellowing Knight Of The Road, one had to partake of the obligatory Starbucks... but all my Pretties has gone! Only über-legs seems to remain. And none of my passing Pretties are passing either! A clear case of mass Starbucks/Xym avoidance resolutions being made this year!

Anyhoo, I managed to leave Starbucks and totally escape the clutches of Greggs! No Cornish Pasty/Steak Bake/Corned Beef Slice nor sausagey roll today!

And I also scootled passed Poundland, and purchased not Team Jelly Babbies and other diverse confections for throughout-the-day scoffage.

And what's more... I even managed to bypass the Newsagents! No Doctor Pepper, Bacon Wheat Crunchies, Cadbury Caramel and Snickers Duo today!

Go me!

And then comes lunchy munchy timie! What's on the Menu?

Beef Korma, Rice & Naan. Chilli Chickpea & Coriander Cakes with salsa, wedges and onion rings. Chicken Breast with sweet spud mash & Star Wars rodents (Rats on Tatooine).

And did Xym partake of curry, rice, naan with a side order of Onion Rings?

Amazingly not - I got away with a cup of Ham & Sweetcorn chowder!

And soup being no longer self service, the staff don't even swish the soup, so all the Ham & Sweetcorn has sunk. They simply dip the ladle in the top and pour 2½ scoopfuls of grainy water in!

So, an even healthier cup o'gruel!

And because Costa Fuckoffee have a franchise, it was served in one of them paper cups with a branded lid. And, naturally, on my lunch break and physically getting exercise by not eating at me desk, suddenly - I heard a rapping, as of someone loudly tapping, tapping on a Starbucks window.

So, being a rebel, I popped in for a chat with Margherita, and drank my Aviva watery fluid with Costa Packet plastered all over it in Starbucks!

Mwah ha ha ha ha!

And, naturally, because I'm all geared up for diet mode (and a-walking in/out tomorrow), qu'elle surprise. There's been an office shufty, and someone don't wanna sit next to me no more, so there's a spare desk to my right...

...now apparently designated "chocolate desk", where someone has opened a HUGE box of decadent choclits.

Right next to me.

Whoring it in their shiny wrappers and affrodisiac¹ aroma.

Quietly whispering "eat me, eat me" like some cunnilingual quim obsessed choclit clit.

Or something.

But I SHALL defy the call of the orgasmic rush of cocoa based products!

But I soooooo want choclit right now. I'm ever so hungry, with naught to look forward to but a big pot of Onken yoghurt for tea with a coconut sesame snap...

no, choclit, NO!!

[edit] Fucksicles. Some fat fucker has fucking purchased fucking doughnuts because the fucking fat fucker was in fucking Greggs and now the fucking fattening feastables are right fucking behing me! Now I has sugary jammy doughballs to contend with. Beckoning me to motorboat them before ravishing them down in an orgy of gorging and gobbling. But I shall resist... I shall... I...

I shall struggle somewhat in the presence of afternoon delights...

¹ MAKES YOUR HEAD STAND UP IN A BIG BUSH. PROBABLY.

The green green grass upon...

..ye barnet of Xym!

I went into Starbucks this morning, and they had a card for me!

For ME!

With me name on it and everything!

Looks like all them days spent ogling up beautiful barista babe's buttocks bent over tables and sashaying up the stairs has paid off!

Clearly theys been watching me on the CCTV, and feel all empowered because they realise they're all hot and stuff!

Perhaps I need to make my comedy pervatoricals more obvious, so next year I get showered with pressies...

...or invited to the Starbucks Office Party to be ravised by drunken serving wenches as they dip their nips into them teeny expresso cups for some Calendar Girl type photogratifications and flange photocopying.

or something.

But in addition to that, it seems the Angry Hair Of Hulkness is causing much attention! Why, I've never had so many banet-based compliments. Everywhere I go, there's huge smiles and quick chats as to the follicle finery.

Never before have I been retained at point of purchase for random shit-chat and engaged in many a diverse discussion. Ah, the power of plumage.

You'd think, being all evergreen pine needley and the color of jealousy, people would treat me with the usual vehemence. But no, seems people open up to The Green rather than the usual red & purple. Jason Woodrue¹? Alec Holland? Bah - Xym IS The Green!

Perhaps I should have had Xmas tree hair with dangly baubles before!

Or, due to the retention of some streaks of pre-color, chocolate lime hair!

Luring Pretties with my hair of sweeties!

Totes amazebaubles...

¹ ♫ JASON
      JASON
      FLORONIC MAN (DUMM DUMMMMM)
      KI.... MO... ♫
          - CLANNAD, SOMETIME IN THE 1980's, PROBABLY ON A FRIDAY.

I see a Pacha Push-ya coming on...

Now, everyone knows where Xym is to be found of a morning (usually bewixt 7:30 and 8:35).

In Starbucks on St Stephens! Always in the same seat - on the right, not in the window, but by the stairs with me back to the wall¹.

Unless it's a Saturday afternoon and I've agreed to meet the Pomme De Terre Possé, in which case we're up in the ærie² on the plush chairs by the window, ogling down babes blouses at bras and bountiful bazingas as they bend over babies in prams, hang about waiting for friends, or just pass by in loose tops.

Anyhoo, the point is, Xym always has that seat of a morning, without variation. Might as well have a plaque with me name on it, or a big RESERVED FOR XYM placard.

But not this morning. Oh no.

Some git nicked my seat!!

And everyone knows that seat is reserved for me!

Why, I was spitting feathers³ and had to find another seat!

Ooooh, I so could have performed the now legendary Xym's Pacha BitchSlap Special on him, and beat him to the ground in comedic childish fashion... if Lady C was there to witness it.

Anyhoo, when he went, Old-Trout-Who-Sits-In-The-Window-(Sometimes-With-Her-Ancient-Mum) said "Some people! They have no idea of the etiquette here. This is my table, that's your table!"

And indeed it is!

There is a natural, unspoken consensus within Starbucks - certain people have certain reserved places.

● Old-Trout-Who-Sits-In-The-Window-(Sometimes-With-Her-Ancient-Mum) sits in the window in the corner
● Polish-Woman-and-Mum sit by the window by the door.
● Bloke-With-Laptop-(Whose-Missus-Sometimes-Joins-Him-Later) sits on the left of the long sofa.
● Old-Couple-Who-Always-Say-Hello have the plush chair suite nearest the window, or the ones by the counter if someone else has sneaked in.
● Non-Stop-Texting-Cleaning-Blonde has the table near the door, but not in the window.
● Woman-With-Long-Jessie-J/Claudia-Wankleman-Hair sits where Old-Trout-Who-Sits-In-The-Window-(Sometimes-With-Her-Ancient-Mum) has vacated (or on the second plush chair suite if someone else has sneaked in)...
...And so on, and so forth...

All us regulars have our allotted seats, and it right riles us up when someone moves in and claims our territory!

One day, we'll all be there, and a Stranger will walk in. At that point, we'll all go silent, and eye them warily. Presumably, it'll be left up to The Xym to lurch up (dragging one leg behind) to advise them:
"We don't be takin' kindly to strangers round these 'ere parts... now, tek yer cloves orf! We take our bedding seriously here - thou must spend one night in ye crypt. Mwah ha ha ha ha ha!".

That'd put The Fear into them!

Teach you to nick my seat, y'bastard!

¹ AS THE XYM DON'T LIKE UNKNOWN PEOPLES BEHIND HIM IN CASE THEY CREEP UP AND STAB HIM UP!
*READERS VOICE (well, more Carla & Gio's)* AND TO OGLE THE PASSING PRETTIES, SEATED PRETTIES, QUEUEING PRETTIES.. NOT TO MENTION PRETTIES POSTERIORS AT THEY SASHAY UP THE STAIRS IN TIGHT PVC LEGGINGS, OR SERVING WENCHES BENT OVER TABLES AS THEY GIVE 'EM A GOOD POLISHING, OR...

² UNLESS THE POLISH PRETTY IS ATTENDING, IN WHICH CASE WE'RE IN THE SOFA IN THE MIDDLE TO SAVE HER BAD HIP FROM TRAIPSING UP THE STAIRS

³ BECAUSE I HADN'T PLUCKED THAT CHICKEN I HAD FOR BREAKFAST, OR SOME OTHER FEATHER BASED ACTIVITY THAT WOULD REQUIRE THE EXPULSION OF THE AFORMENTIONED DOWNY COVERAGE FROM CAKEHOLE. OR SOMETHING.

The X Fucked Off...

Oh, my poor Pretty!

One of my top Starbucks Saturday Harem was in all alone and miserable :(

Clutching coffee, curled up on comfy couch, all a-teary eyed.

Then in walks hubby (sans kids) to sit aside... turn to face the wall. Shrug off the comforting arm. Whispery whispery discussion...

A long cuddle...

A sit apart...

A long silence...

A departure in silence...

So, looks like a breakup! And if she's now an "ex"... well, looks like she's mine nEXt!

Well, she might have a thing for short, fat, troll-visaged gothboys with preposterous hair, outlandish 'tashe, a comedic lecherous double-entendrey turn of phrase and ill advised fashion!

Well, anything's possible!

These are the loons I can do without...

If it's not a disembodied dick rampaging through Vietnam (only to resurface at The Cabin In The Woods) what puts The Fear up ya, it's cannibalistic Koreans making their babysitters into sushi soup.

So, after a night a scary scariness, what could be more traumatic than a scary pumpkin drink?

A scary shouty man, with much of the psychopath about him!

And no - it's not The Xym making a vociferous vocalised ejaculation at a surprise siren of extreme Pretty wandering into Starbucks for the first time.

Although I did have to hold back many a lecherous exclamation upon sighting several strikingly sexy Starbucks sirens sashaying through the store this morrow.

Why, me fingers, all a-wriggle, almost spilt me drink!

And I don't want cream all over me table!

I mean - this Xym in Starbucks, not drunken Polish birds on trains smearing their cream filled purse all over the tables.

Anyhoo, yesterday was the female fapper, surreptitiously fapping with one hand as the other tries to obfuscate the cover of the literary tome she was thoroughly engrossed in¹. But does the randified strumpet get all lathered up into a right old hornfest and drag me upstairs for a bout of nobbage in the Starbucks toilets?

Does she 'eck as like!

A Pretty gets herself frothing at the gash, and I don't even get substituted for her fictitious lover.

But today...

Oh today...

I gets all the attention...

FROM MAD MUPPETS!

There I was, a-sipping of my Hallowe'eny beverage, when there's a pounding on the window. For once, it's not Margherita, window licking and smearing his butt all over the window. This was some unkempt loon, bellowing at me, like Bob Mortimer at Nicole's wedding.

Ignore him Ignore him Ignore him Shit I looked up and he's grinning and pointing at me...

Oh fuckicles... he's coming in the store!

HEY! HIYA! HOW YA DOOIN? HOW ARE YA MATE! YEAH!

Shittery shitnuts slathered in shit scented shitsauce - everyone's looking at us! I don't have a clue who this bloke is, and he's acting like my best bud! Smile, nod, say "yeah" and try and hide in the Kindle..

YEAH MATE! THINGS ARE GREAT! YEAH! HAVIN' COFFE YEAH! I HAD MINE ALREADY! I GOT FREE COFFEE! YEAH! I'M MEETING MY MATE OVER THERE IN A MINUTE! COOL BEANS!

Fuck off fuck off fuck off concentrate on Stephen King's 11/22/63. Time Traveller back in Derry. oooh references to IT. Oh fuck he's still here.

YEAH! CATCHYA LATER MATE! GOTTA DASH! GREAT TO SEE YA! SEE YA LATER!

Thank fuck the scary shouty man is gone... but... now everyone thinks he's my best mate. That Pretty I had my eye on is giving me evils now, them other 2 Pretties are shaking their heads at my choice of companionship. Everywhere I look - Pretty's disappointed with no xympathy for my sufferance from the shouting of strangers.

As if I wasn't unpopliar enough - now I got the added baggage that people believe I come with unexpected Bonus Feature of Shouting Mentalcase!

Who'd be me, eh...

¹ 50 SHADES DARKER. HEY, CUMMY-MUMMY... UNDER-SCARF STROKING OF YOUR SLIPPERY SLOT IN STARBUCKS ISN'T SUBTLE. YEAH - PRETEND TO BE ROCKING IN TIME WITH THE MUSIC, AS YOU FURIOUSLY FINGER YOUR FLANGE AS ANA SUCKS CHRISTIANS POPSICLE.

This is Xymon's dream...

This is Xymon's dream

Pumpkins steam in the lunch hour rush

This is Xymon's dream

Baristas make thoughts obscene

'Coz they hired

two new Pretties gonna make Xym blush

Forget my weekend woes - ignore yesterdays bewailing of Saturdays abandonment, for everything is right in the world today!

For this morrow I had my usual morning Starbucks and admiration of my Harem. But then, I gets to work and..

Spooky Stauf song Ghosts Of Bo

(or dodgy massage parlour brothel tune if you prefer)

"Hi Xym, this is Starbucks, gitchore fatass down to St Stephens, for we has a new drink for you...

The Pumpkin Spice Latte!

Signature expresso blended with autumnal spices and topped with whipped cream!"

Oh my, three days into Autumn and we have seasonal beverages! The Xym waddles down there quick-smart!

Bonus #1: Yes, they are doing the Pumpkin Spice in this store

Bonus #2: I'm served by my favourite Pretty¹

Bonus #3: Two new serving wenches - and both are major Pretties too!

Gawd help 'em if I ever win that there lottery, for they'll never get me out of the place!

I mean, It's hard enough now!

As is leaving Starbucks.

Ba'dum tish!

¹WELL, ONE OF THEM, ANYWAYS! THERE ARE SOOOOO MANY TO CHOOSE FROM IN STARBUCKS!

Back to work, back to reality...

Oh, jizzummy fecknuts, huzzah, and arse biscuits!

Jizzummy fecknuts - my Kindle wasn't handed in to Starbucks. Waiting to hear back from FirstBus :(

Huzzah - I been awarded an award! Fifty Squids! Whoo-hoo! If they finds me kindle, that'll cover the next 2 Twilight Zones on Blu-Ray! If not, it's dosh off the replacement Kindle Touch/Fire!

Arse Biscuits - Because I been off for a week, I'm chocka with catch-up meetings. So, naturally, I gets a text from one of my Top Pretties about meeting for a Starbucks at lunchtime! But the flatulent fingers of fate decree that I have to have a meeting right at the time my sensual sexpot wants to Starbuck with me :(

Much growlage currently ensueth...

Olé olé, olé, olé...

...Xym, she's Hot, Hot, Hot!

A most enjoyable afternoonage with Carly Fearme Bottom, Gio From da potato possé in da hood, Kelso, Loki, Sexy Hexe and Frank Bruno.

Know wot I means 'arry!

In addition to Polish Pretties proffering posteriors to be patted, several Starbucks sirens from Xym's harem also made an appearance!

Plus some new Haremettes. Or concubines. Or whatever them Pretties in Harems are called.

Although the none-too subtle hints of "phoar, that birds hot Xym! Xym! Look! She's HOT! HOT!" in an effort to draw my attention to Pretties does go rather amiss, as the alleged "Pretty" now has a scowl of "don't perv at me you pervy perv perving away like a perverted pervert perving at Pretties" on her miseryarse face.

I think I'm going to have to buy one of them silent SpyCams, so I can create one of them there albums on FaceBook called "Harem" and store a collection of all my Pretties in photgenic photographical representation.

But then, would there be arguments over who appears in the album? What if Pretty A objects to Pretty B who, in turn, is well jel of Pretty C, whilst Pretty D is given a confidence boost at being recognised as a Pretty, whilst Pretty E takes offence at being called a Pretty and thinks it's pervy and demeaning to womens, whilst the gf/bf/husband/civil partneress of Pretty F takes exception to someone else looking at their bird and stabs me up!

And then someone would want me to rank¹ then in order, and then there's be arguments over who rates higher than who, and then it'll be all Snog, Marry, Avoid.

With The Xym getting 100% avoid.

¹ I SAID RANK!

I don't need no posture phase (they's got no chairs for Xymni)...

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Of loos & piss & time elapsed, of moustaches and minge...

All for one, and none for Xym!

Suit Allures! le Roi Charles was invited to a surprise partay in the Take That Crypt!

But what's this? Last minute telecommunicatory advices of locatory confusion - not that The Crypt, it's t'other The Crypt! Die Krüpps? Nein! The Xym must fjord yon slumber apparatus for ye quaffage!

Ah, but it seems The Xym is more suited for queefage, due to the trimness of facial foliage! For Pretties adviseth that the 'tache is ideally suited for quim based stimulation¹. Admittedly, the young, innocent rock chick was unaware of precisely what quim is, and I doubt an offer of putting the 'tache to the test wouldn't go down too well.

Which rather disproves the point (if you know what I mean, and I'm sure that you do!)...

Anyhoo,  more Pretties to perve leer ogle talk at!

Discourse now squeaks around combining WKD core and Goldschläger becoming Apple Pie. Naturally, I'm informed by the inebriated lady that her flange feels nothing like pie de pomme. Although I guess it depends on pie in question. 

What if it's a Maccy D's Apple Pie? All hot and covered in crispy batter... not to mention shaped like a 'Brazillian' merkin, not dissimilar to the velcro-esque strip of chinwig I now sport under my twiddly 'tache twat tickler!

Or am I thinking of the filet o' fish (with obligatory 4 minute wait for that Sir, an NO! We don't sell onion rings)?

Whatever - all I know is that eventually there was a comPEEtition² for the fastest golden shower in the somewhat 'green' toilets, monitored by young fellow-me-lads through the windows.

But, alas, today is the tumbling of toothpaste, for according to sexy sirens of Polish prettyness, although Pretties like to admire impressive 'tache's upon the menfolk, they won't not kiss 'em due to 'tache rash & itchiness induced by stubble snoggage

On the other hand (probably the hand not caressing her beautiful busoms with her five palce due to lack of a kchuk) - if Pretties prefer the tingle of 'tache on their twinkle, is entwining tongue all that important? Perhaps I need to extract my 'tache, so I can put it on to pull, whip it off to snog, then stick it back on at fish supper time!

Not to be confused with penis buttock jelly time, involving Brian in a banana suit. Probably. 

Still - she says that now. Just wait till it gets long enough to tease into a Go Cumpare stylee³ - Pretties will be queueing up to ravish me then, coz all women want a Gio Cumpario!
 

Go Compaaaaarrrre!

Go Compaaaaarrrre!

A joy so rare

with Xym's lip hair

on your 'down there'

With just a few licks

and clitoral flicks

and you'll thank your stars that your quim met Xym's lip hair!

Go Compaaaaarrrre!

Or something...

¹ V FOR VAG-EATER, AND INTO THE (LURVE) GRAVEE! OR FANNY BATTER, TO BE MORE PRECISE. OR JUST DOWNRIGHT OBSCENE.

² SEE WHAT I DID THERE!

³ AND IF MY 'TACHE GET'S LONG ENOUGH, I CAN DO THAT TOO!
BA'DUM TISH!
I'M HERE ALL WEEK.
THANK YOU, AND GOODNIGHT!