Sergeant, what are you doing with that orange bag over your head? I told you to cuff them, not muck about!, And ... O my god, that woman’s hardly got a stitch on — cover her up with a black bag someone — and as for you Cocktail Dress Lady, haven’t you got a home to go to? Hey, what’s going on? You, Blonde Southern Belle, stop fiddling with my belt this minute. O sh... my trousers, give me back my trousers! And leave my w...
ALRIGHT, QUIET EVERYBODY! No one is to leave — and that means you three. Names please. Ahem, it has been drawn to our attention that there has recently been some highly irregular behaviour in this bar, and there will be prosecutions. Do you want me to spell them out? 1. Wearing of non-biodegradable plastic. 2. Abuse of cocktail party products. 3. Oral gestures of a forbidden nature. 4. Excess perspiration of an offensive...
Sashaying, (or should I say, sacheting?) back, Rumps is eerily quiet. Not a solitary belch marks my return. ”TRAADAAAAAAA!” I shout, twirling around the ‘exercise’ pole for maximum impact. Voluminous orange polyethylene billowing; his enchanting, porcine eyes feasting on me. “Damn!” My finger bleeding from an embedded cocktail umbrella. Thats when I spot her. My saboteur and potential garbage man thief I think, seeing th...
