After a night out…



Yes you.

The girl so far up your own arse that if you shoved a toothbrush up your bum you could clean your own teeth.

See the way you spread yourself out all over the seats and the table?

See that?

See the way I pick up all of your stuff that wasn’t in your section of the table?

See the way I dropped it on the floor?

That’s you that is.

Tough fucking shit.

I really don’t care that you look like some over-hyped version of an Asian princess.

If you put your shit in my space it’s just fucking shit.

Yes that’s right.

I’ve had a drink.

Actually no.

I’ve had a whole bucketful of drink.

And you and your friend. The one that you’re on the phone to?

You are scum.

Cheap chavvy scum.

Fuck you.


You can look at me all you like but the truth is I really don’t give a toss.

Pick your stuff up off the floor and shut the fuck up.


And stop looking at me like that otherwise I’m going to take your handbag off the seat, open my fly, get my cock out and piss in your bag.



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2 Responses to After a night out…

  1. Sophie says:

    My husband.

    The people-person.


    (Hope you’re soaking that bucketful of drink up with a Kingsize Pot Noodle, Jones!)

  2. Brennig says:

    Matt Damon!