Boaby

Before I begin, I should tell you that I've been inspired to recount this tale after reading this.

Remember the fuckwits? The fatter of the two, the one riddled in cold sores, the spoiled child, once told me about a friend of his. They both belonged to some aspirational club, a bunch of no-hopers who thought they were something special, something like a cheap version of The Freemasons.

They would go on tours around the UK, getting drunk at British Legion clubs and generally make fools of themselves. The fuckwit's friend was a right cheapskate. In order to avoid paying for hotels or similar accommodation, he would chat up old ladies, go back to their place for sex and thereby not have to spend a penny on his overnight stay.

I should add, at this point, that the friend of the fuckwit was in his early twenties at this point.

The fuckwit told me his pal met a woman in her eighties at a British Legion in the highlands, took her outside, through the fire escape in order to chat her up. The fire escape was right by the men's toilets. On going to the toilet, the fuckwit heard his friend's latest target say, "Never before in aw ma life have I put a man's boaby into ma mooth."

How low would you stoop, dear reader, to save money?