That Man Wants You
Was in pub in Manchester in 1998-ish, enjoying a pint or few before getting the train back home.

Bloke walks up to my table, sits down opposite me. Smartly dressed but clearly pissed, with a face like Davros on a bad day. He's got a pint of Kronenbourg and a double whisky with him.

Something about him disturbs me and I smile nervously. He gives me an appraising look and seems to be trying to chew his own teeth.

I'm about to get up and get away from this weirdo when he speaks.

'Alright cock. Can ye play the fuckin' guitar y'cunt?'

I shake my head. 'No,' I reply nervously but truthfully.

He takes a long pull at his pint whilst staring at me from over the top of it. 'S'alright. Do y'wanna be in my band?'

By now quite scared, I shake my head again, make my excuses and leave.

What a fucking, FUCKING idiot.
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Fri 24 Sep 2010, 15:05, 4 replies)

Sounds like Mark E Smith to me

( Blue Star was working part time at the 5 and Dime, Fri 24 Sep 2010, 15:13, closed)

What's the best way not to get punched by a Mancunian drunk?
Don't join The Fall.

(But I'd've jumped at the opportunity all the same. Yes, you are a fucking idiot.)
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 24 Sep 2010, 15:23, closed)

I have dreams about this happening to me.
(gnuchu, Fri 24 Sep 2010, 16:20, closed)

I think it was actually
Paul Heaton... or David Gedge
(Dr Skagra glorious glargzhem, Mon 27 Sep 2010, 13:22, closed)