Goin' up the country...

A few years back I took some friends up to my home town, promising them a typical country night out at the pub which should consist of; a)a fight (didn't actually get one, but we did get to see someone turning a table over ) and b) a sighting of Sean Smith's dick (again didn't come through with the goods though the only other female member of our party was on watch for us all night.)

But the following exchange did happen at the urinal in the male toilets between my (very camp) friend S and a man he described as "looking like a huge bulldog";

BD: So, who do you barrack for mate?

S: (shit scared thinking "what do I say, what do I say") Um, Hibs.

BD: Huh?

S: Hibs, Hibernian, their a Scottish team, I'm not from here.

BD: Oh.

Pause.

BD: So you gettin' any?

S: (not wanting to say "well my (equally camp) partner is just outside" and thinking "what do I say, what do I say") Um, I'm working on it.

BD: (slapping him on the back): Well get out there mate, there's plenty of puss out there for the taking!

RIP the Cri!