Feeling a right t*t
Ages ago, my mate's wife had just given birth to a healthy bouncing baby boy whom they'd named Daniel. About a week later I popped around to say my hello's. As I walked through the door my mate said that he'd taped a footie game for me (as I had requested) and asked if I wanted to watch it. My loud reply was "No thanks, I'd rather watch Daniel!"

Cue me walking into the front room to find Daniel sucking greedily on my mate's wife's exposed, milk-bloated breast. So I'm a perv who gets off watching little babies suck on titties, eh?

Once my girlfriend (now my wife of 8.5 years) picked me up from a pub. As we were about five minutes from home I deemed it unnecessary to fasten my seat-belt. Girlfriend (being stroppy type) tells me to put it on. Me says no. G/f says put it on. Me say no.

Girlfriend stops car, and says she won't move until I put belt on. Me - not wishing to diminishing chances of bj fun later that evening (okay, being scared of her) puts on belt.

G/f, with smug, satisfied smile, drives off . . . straight through a red light. A small victory for the common man.

Oh, and this one happened last week. My son Ben is six, and we were on our way back from Skegness on the train. Six year olds pay fares on trains, five year olds do not. My son makes friends with the small boy sitting opposite him. Eventually, mother of the small boy asks Ben how old he is.

"I'm six!" says Ben, "but Daddy says when I'm on a train I'm five!"

Oh, and when I was about seven and sitting on a crowded bus I proudly and loudly told my mum that she had a moustache.

I'm just a cnut, I think.
(SneakyPete, Wed 21 Apr 2004, 13:03, Reply)