50 SHADES – Chapter 3 – The Hen Neet You would ha thowt after six weddings, ah would be able to plan a bloody hen neet by noo – but this time ah wanted it to be different. The wedding plans could wait, me chief bridesmaid Tasha could help is oot wiv that while she was still on remand. She looked like a bulldog licking piss of a thistle but had a kind heart. And, more importantly, wouldn’t upstage is on the big day. Ah put me leopard skin print lycra leggings on with me tight snakeskin T short owa them. Ah had me black PVC thigh high boots on and me snide Gucci zebra skin clutchbag, for aal those little gorly essentials (G string, Regal kingsize and a bottle of Stevie B scent) completed the ootfit. Ah looked lush, just like that Julia Robson in Pretty Woman, only with a smaaller gob. Ah hired a geet limo and all the lasses were dressed up to the nines – they looked just like them slappas off Geordie Shore, but not as rough. Mario, our driver looked like he knew how to show a lass a good time. Ah think he must have worked in Elizabeth Duke Jewellers cos he said he gave the last hen party a porl necklace each. Me ma was off ah tits on poppers and crying ‘her bairn was gerrin married again’. Ah hord the same owld story aboot how ah wattas broke when she was arrested for shoplifting in Shepherds, how she had to bite on a policeman’s truncheon when the contractions came and, an hoor after having is, she was in Bobby’s Roundhouse before last orders was caalled. What a trooper. Anyroad, we were aal well giddy and dancing on the tables (ah wish Tasha had put a pair of knickers on tho) and a noticed this gadgie looking is up and doon. He rolled his eyes across the dancefloor at is, so ah picked them up and rolled them back (even tho another disabled parking badge would’ve been handy). As a danced roond me handbag wiv the lasses singing “I Will Survive” and supping Blastaways through a straw, this booncer came up from neewhere and led is outside. Ah didn’t knaa what was gannin on. He told is he had been a sowldier. He was just back from deeing missionary work in Sunderland, and had seen sights that would bring a tear tiv a glass eye. Withoot thinking, me mothering instinct took owa and ah consoled him. As ah hord aal the lasses singing “Band of Gold” in the backgroond, wiv me heed torned by too many Babychams and the rush of the cool night time air, he hoisted is up owa a crate of empty Britvic mixers in the alleyway and ah suddenly realised me little sowldier boy was standing to attention and ready to let battle commence. It wasn’t all that Private but he had a Major operation to carry oot. He was hung like a pit pony and ah risked stretch marks roond me gob. After a few crafty night time manoeuvres, he had his wicked way and ah suddenly realised the meaning of true love and what an “officer’s mess” really was an aal. Ah staggered back to the lasses waalking like John Wayne. Tasha was at the bar, ordering cocktails. She shooted “Where yee been? It’s my roond. You wanna ‘slow comfortable screw against the waal’ or wot?” Ah thowt “Christ, not again”
Posted on: Fri, 26 Jul 2013 09:38:19 +0000
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