The day I thought I had been raped


Evening ****ers. Did you miss me? No? Good.

It occurred to me that I may not have spun this dit on here, but apologies if I have.

One night a little while ago I was down the pub having a few Guinnesses. Having had a few, drinking alone, and noticing a vista of beauty at the bar I wondered over to say hello. This beauty must have been close on 20 stone, had a face like a shirt found at the bottom of a pongos kit bag, and smelled as if she had bathed in a vat of cheap perfume. She was perfect.

Being young and cocky, and drunkly irresistible I employed my best line of "Alright? Fancy a... drink?" having had a moment of wisdom before substituting the last word for "shag". Not only did my sweetheart accept, but she also paid. As I said. Perfect.

We got chatting, and it emerged that (at the time) I was applying for the marines. She told me she lived next door to someone in the navy, yet didn't know how he fit in a submarine because he's 6ft 6. Using my lightning quick powers of deduction I realised I knew this man giant as a very good friend. When I told her this she decided to end the conversation saying it would be a bad idea, bought me another drink, then left.

Shortly after a man comes up to me and says he saw the whole thing, tells me to keep my chin up, and buys me a Guinness. The landlady smirks at me as she hands the drink over and walks off. She never did like me much, but tolerated me because of the quantities of money I put behind the bar. Maybe because I shagged her sister.

After about 20 minutes of talking to this bloke I realise something in his voice is a little amiss. A little Graham Norton-esque. I notice this is he is paying for another pint for me. I figure a free drink is a free drink, and crack on. This continues until he has brought me about 5 or 6 pints. Coupled with the few from earlier I'm beginning to feel rather drunk. I realise for my safety I need some scran. I seize my opportunity when he "nips to the loo" as he put it. I call the landlady over, tell her I now realise why she was smirking and that I want to buy a carvery. I quickly grab my food and hide in a corner where my new best mate can't see me.

I watch him return to the bar, look around for a few seconds, finish his drink, and leave. I finish my scran and head back to the bar. The landlady calls me a coward and gives me the drink he bought for me before he left. I stay until I'm well and truly drunk and start the long stumble home.

The next morning I wake up, sit up, and realise that it's not my head that hurts. It's my arse. It was ****ing agony. As I begin the piece the night back together I remember old Graham Norton from the bar. I begin to panic. I look around my room and he's not there. I check the kitchen - still no sign of him. Did I? Didn't I? The last thing I remember was dropping half my carvery and stealing someone's yorkshire pudding. ****. How much did I spend last night anyway? I check my wallet and find a receipt from the chinky on the way home.

I shuffle to my phone and call my friend who works in the chinese. The conversation was something like this:
"Erm, yeah hi. Listen, did I buy something from the chinese last night?"
"Err, you can't have eaten it all. You bought loads"
"Yeah, yeah. Was I with anyone?"
"No, I don't think so"
"Did anyone follow me?"
"You're being paranoid"
"Alright. I'll level with you. I woke up and my arse feels like it's inside out. Do you know what happened?"
At this point she starts laughing. Lots. When she finishes she explains:
"I know what happened. When you came in you were very very drunk. It was nearly home time and you were arguing about the price of the crispy duck. I bet you that if you could fit my whole G-string up your arse you could have the duck free. Obviously you agreed, you cheapskate. We went to my car and you tried. Well, you succeeded. The problem came when you went to take it out. You see, there was a gem in the back. It got stuck. In your drunken state you thought the best idea was to give it a quick pull and just rip it out, like taking off a plaster. THAT is why your arse hurts you stupid bastard".

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