I would have written this in the recently composed 'Why I hate being single' node, but it didn't really fit in with my self absorbed rant. I think this tale deserves a self absorbed rant all of its very own.

The story starts at 2pm on Wednesday afternoon when the company I work for arranged a 'go-karting' afternoon followed by as much free drink as you could handle aboard a static riverboat on the River Thames.

Quite clearly my sexual frustrations decided to reach an all time high as I flirted, chatted, danced with and generally made a nuisance of myself with anything female I could see. Luckily I was on fairly good form and rather than piss everyone off, I was just seen as 'getting into the spirit of things'.

As the free Jack Daniels began to really kick in I began to lose touch with reality and started to think that even the most (how do I say this diplomatically?) horrible, awful, digusting, repulsive and downright nasty (that should do it!) women were suitable targets for my ill-advised affections.

The next few hours are a little hazy, suffice to say that I eventually paired off with a woman so ugly (and I don't just mean physically before I get abused by you all) and somehow or another ended up in my bed doing, well, you know.

At about 3.30 as she fell asleep I must have begun to sober up as my only desire was to get the hell out of my bed, so I took a pillow and slept on the front room floor.

As dawn approached I plucked up the courage to go back upstairs, wake her up and order her a taxi.

When she awoke, the first thing she said was "Fuckin' 'ell my fuckin' husband's gonna kill me, 'e's gotto be at work in 15 minutes and the kids ain't got no-one to take 'em to school."


The next day at work was NOT pleasant as the rumour spread like a forset fire and my reputation as a decent honest member of the team was shot to pieces. I spent the whole day on the verge of tears, wondering why I had done it and wishing that I'd married any one of my last girlfriends just to avoid such incidents.

Just as I thought things could not get any worse I got back to my house to discover that, while I had been sleeping downstairs, the married mother of two who had spent the night in my bed had urinated in her sleep and ruined my bedclothes and my mattress. This goes some way to describing the overall quality of said woman.

It is now Saturday evening and I still find myself shaking in disgust about every 25 minutes.

I have hereby therefore etc etc vowed NEVER EVER to let my sexual frustrations get the better of me again!

Still, there's always masturbation!

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