Ok, I give in, I give in, after having my box relentlessly filled with PMS, he books himself under the name[hide] Satanas [/hide]
Evertonians are born not manufactured.
We do not choose; we are chosen.
Those who understand need no explanation.
Those that don't understand don't matter.
Niall wrote:Ok, I give in, I give in, after having my box relentlessly filled with PMS
Makes a change from manmilk, eh?
It may as well be mm if you could see who they were from
Evertonians are born not manufactured.
We do not choose; we are chosen.
Those who understand need no explanation.
Those that don't understand don't matter.
Evertonians are born not manufactured.
We do not choose; we are chosen.
Those who understand need no explanation.
Those that don't understand don't matter.
Niall wrote:Chris Lowe stretched and yawned luxuriously, I saw the moonlight glint of the saliva on his back teeth and gums, and, as his shirt rode up his torso, I caught a wisp of belly hair.
He did that on purpose, didn't he?
How did it look to you? I thought he was a little porky around this time.
Can you actually remember the exchanges between the two of you? I want to know exactly what made Neil giggle so much!
No he looked alright, he wore a great cap, no glasses, had a little bit of stubble on his face, was pretty much the same height as me. When I get the chance (I'm meant to be preparing things for Saturdays show) I'll write the exchange down, but we talked about his team Arsenal and my team Everton who had drawn 0-0 the night before - he hadn't heard the results and wasn't best pleased with it Oh ruddy 'eck he shouted.
It moved on to what he was doing now and what I was doing - he kept persisting with this while I basically stood like an open mouthed shop window mannequin, he was so polite, his voice poofy in a boyish kind of way. After Neil stood laughing like a hyena that had overdosed on helium, he said Come on Chris!!!!! then "I don't know, it's these young, footballing boy types, isn't it" and off they went into the limo.
Before they had left he gave me a name to ask for if they were ever back in town, I guess this is the fake name he books himself under.Before anyone asks - 'No'
So a shortarsed pretend-butch scruffy queen in other words?
Oi, I am butch, I don't have to pretend.
Someone read the story at least twice
Evertonians are born not manufactured.
We do not choose; we are chosen.
Those who understand need no explanation.
Those that don't understand don't matter.