Amock Comedy Magazine 3 HTML version

AMOCK has always had a soft spot for barmaids, especially if they are pretty of face, neat of figure and
generous of pouring. One of our writers, however, has had his heart broken by one and we include his
farewell here.
Well, that’s it, it’s over, she’s thrown me out.
I used to see her in this pub and I knew she was interested. She was undressing me with her eyes, so I wore
two pairs of pants, just to tease her.
But she was an absolute doll. Not beautiful, just I’m sure bits of her were plastic.
The pub? Crap! Terrible decor, beer watered down and there wasn’t any Venezuelan folk music on the jukebox.
And let’s face it, a Scotsman's home is his pub, part of his national heritage.
So I said to her, I can imagine tens of thousands of years ago, a Neanderthal version of me, squatting right here
in front of an open fire, drinking fermented barley, his meaty paw fumbling under his mate's furs, grunting vulgar
obscenities in her ear.
After that I made a grab for her parts and she kicked me in the nuts, which is an extreme kind of foreplay, even
for me.
But I said to her, I can’t help it, it's that bum of yours, it drives me wild. In fact, I don't even consider it as a bum
any more, more of a leisure centre.
Is that all you can think of, she says.
Not at all, says I. There's bosoms too. I often think of bosoms. Sometimes just one at a time, I’m not greedy.
You’re just like all the others, she said, you’ll forget me in the end.
No chance, says I, I’ve got a pornographic memory.
And the smart bugger says, ‘You make it awful difficult for me to appreciate the diversity of the human race’.
Accused me of being a misogynist, but I refused to be something I couldn't spell.
What have you got going for you? she asked me.
Well, I was hide and seek champion four years running at school. Not even Big Willie Thompson, who's now
the boss of the Glasgow Police, could find me.
There’s nothing wrong with being an alcohol ingestion operative with thirty five years service, gets the creative
juices flowing.
She said I was a dinosaur, but I’m all for progress and technology. If it wasn't for science there wouldn’t be any
mobile phones. You'd need to carry round a pygmy with a bongo drum.
I took my life in my hands and told her Id just read a sex book with all the latest moves and grips, so how about
‘What about the L word?’ she asked, so I had another lager.
That’s when she told me to bugger off, big style.
Never mind that nations will rock, and dynasties totter; there'll be plague and pestilence, kids crying in the streets,
people smiting their breast and wailing and gnashing their teeth. It'll be worse than getting beat by the English
at football.
I’d got to like that pub. Never missed the fancy-dress, karaoke, quiz-nights on Wednesdays.
Anyway, sod the pub, and sod her. She was a lousy barmaid as a matter of fact, more Mein Kampf than Mine