A mate of mine
was told a lovely story one night.
A journalist from a local listings magazine met him one evening and tried to pull him with his witty entertaining story.

Apparently he was working in a bar on Bristol's waterfront, and as time was called and everyone kicked out, it became time to lock up and leave. There is a string of bars down there most with industrial size bins out the back. Sometimes you have to walk past them to get home. As himself and a mate were leaving they heard a bit of a kerfuffle. On closer inspection they saw a couple of locals getting down to a bit of drunk sexy time.
A fine young Bristol man was giving it very energetically to a fine young Bristol girl who was splayed over said bin face first, enjoying her drunken munchies.
His pants were round his ankles and she was arse facing as he went for his life. Bum chicca wow wow and all that.
They were in fits watching, apparently, as it's not the most private of places.
The only thing heard apart from bin hinges squeaking was

'Don't fuck I too hard Gar..I'll spill me chips..'

Thing was, said friend being pulled had been the one to ACTUALLY see this a few weeks earlier and sent the story into the local listings magazine. He won letter of the week.
The journo in a desperate attempt to get into his pants had claimed it as his own. To the very worst person he could.
( Herb Alpert's Taxi Driver I have very beautiful lips, Sun 16 Jan 2011, 1:32, Reply)