Desperate Cry for Help 011

So I'm in this pub and all of a sudden this guy, who looks like Freddie Mercury on a bad hair day, comes up to me and says he'd like to see me in nothing but a kilt.

I assume that he is gay AND insane - not that being gay has caused him to be insane, or that insanity results in the desire for deep man-on-man thrusting love, but instead, someone who just happens to be completely barking mad AND fancies a bit of bear sausage.

So I calmly tell the guy that I'm not actually homosexual or anything, but he can keep buying me drinks if he likes.

Guy loses all interest.

What a jerk.

I mean, what's wrong with being a philanthropist and getting other people pissed and hung-over on the principles of making society a more fun and relaxed place to be?

Why has there always got to be some alluring promise of sex in back of club, in that part of the alley where the street lights are broken and the CCTV has been vandalized?

Still, I'm just as bad. When that girl at The Three Parrot Feet turned me down, I stopped buying her drinks AND pretended to be German, just to avoid further humiliation.