Was drinking Earl Grey
in a quaint little coffee shop in Brighton once, minding my own business, counting the seagulls, quietly reading the paper. Then as if from nowhere the place was rammed full of fat American tourists talking loudly and generally getting in the fucking way.

My quiet serenity was shattered. Must’ve been a whole coach load of the inbred redneck brigade. They took up all the available seats and a few of them even perched on the edge of tables. One of them – a particularly fat and sweaty tosser – dared to plonk her fat arse down on my table, sending my cup and saucer bouncing into the air. While at the same time a couple sat at the table behind me, ramming my balls into the leg of my table as they squeezed their big-enough-for-two-sized arses into their seats.

“RIGHT ! YOU FUCKERS ! GET THE FUCK OUT BEFORE I GO FUCKING NUCLEAR ON YOUR FLABBY OVER-PRIVILAGED ARSES ! GO ON - FUCK OFF !” I said.

And eventually, when the booming sound of my voice had stopped resonating off the windows, the invaders departed banging on about: “Well, not all English people are polite…”

Worst case of tea-rage crush I’ve ever experienced.
(Pastabator earned his brown wings with your girlfriend on, Thu 12 Nov 2009, 11:14, 2 replies)

yikes...

well played.
(Mr Twisty Cheeky The worst kept secret in B3ta..., Thu 12 Nov 2009, 11:17, closed)

And the strange thing is
this pun wouldn't have worked at all if I had my usual tipple, a nice hot black coffee with milk in it (what some people call a white coffee or a 'larrr-tayyy' if you're a cunt.

And this encounter could never have been committed to B3ta for future generations to marvel over.
(Pastabator earned his brown wings with your girlfriend on, Thu 12 Nov 2009, 11:19, closed)