Monkeys Fist

WYN PDO1

I sense a name change.

Bloody hell Catmag it is only thee best film of all time and I don't say that lightly having to reduce Hairspray and Mama Mia to 2nd and 3rd place. It is thee ultimate Christmas feel good film. Get it watched. And you wonder why your cock is giving up ?

Has she got hairy tits then?

On Toontastic, the average age of the combat poster was thirty-two. On Newcastle-Online it was nineteen. N-n-n-n-nineteen.

Happy Birthday.

Calls for a mass debate on the issue.

Some of the mental images this thread is creating… Not least, CT's pudgy pink-tipped little fella, giving up the ghost and jettisoning sparse ginger pubes as it disappears into the doughy belly fat which is engulfing it at a spectacular rate. And Chez's old fella looking like Robinson Crusoe on a bad hair day.

Increased Man gunt?

Yo Ho Ho http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ufY-QRVndGw&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Before or after digestion?

The Great Escape. Cooler King beats Santa.

I was fucking sweating watching that.

Amen

That turkey sounds like beef wellington, but with turkey.

Sorry Clint, much man love and that, but it's true.

Unwanted mental images.

Nah, I've ruined her for other men- Ape Gape

Drunk and incapable.

If only she'd known how fast my nipper valve was oscillating when I told her, I'm sure she would have played it out longer. Wynn all round I'd say.

Oh dear God, what a fucking donkey! Spent the day in bed recovering, told Mrs. F. the full crack , to which she roared with laughter, called me tit and said you don't go to titty bars to look at wallpaper. She was more pissed off that I was out of action all day. Catmag very kindly offered to erase the post and it's traces, but no need. Let it stand as a beacon of idiocy. Although, reading it back, I have to say that after 12 hours on the lash, the spelling and grammar is top notch. And cheers for not tearing me a new one chaps… yet

Top bloke - appointed Frank Zappa "Special Ambassador to the West on Trade, Culture and Tourism". Genius. RIP

Very mixed emotions going on here. Went out for our company piss up tonight. All was well, started in the Telegraph, moved on to the Bridge, we then said " let's head to the Ouseburn, via the Quayside." My choice at this stage would've been to hop in a cab and miss out the Quayside entirely. Over ruled. Cut a long story short we ended up in the titty bar on Dean St. Here's where the problems started. For a good hour or so, I sat and watched my pals hoy money at a steady succession of skinny birds with plastic tits, amused but feeling slightly above it all as none of them did a thing for me. Then , BAM! Out of nowhere this vision of womanly ness ( i.e. curves in all the right places ) parks her arse on my lap and whacks her ample bosoms into my face. Before I know it, I'm in a " private room" with this superbly proportioned woman ,naked and doing things I really shouldn't be even be entertaining. Here's where the turmoil comes in. I cannot lie , I enjoyed every minute of the half hour I was in there with her. But I now feel like an utter bastard, and that I've cheated on my good lady. Trying to justify it to myself by reasoning that the same lass was away doing the very same thing to the next paying punter in line, but it's not working. I know I've done something that , had the tables have been turned, I'd be absolutely gutted about. Am I over reacting, or , as it feels to me, have I fucked up? Right now, I'm not going to say owt to Mrs. Fist, but I feel like a weak willed twat. So, there we are. Fuck knows what I was playing at, but I feel like an utter cunt right now.