The best songs ever made
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The King of Pussy Gettin
Well-known member
mixed_biscuits
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Don't people think it's this?
qwerty south
no use for a witticism
shakahislop
Well-known member
mixed_biscuits
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The time is 11:30pm on Saturday evening and @version is in a nondescript chain pub in Redcar.
For the umpteenth time he'd been invited by his colleagues at the heating company to the only serviceable social venue in the town and this was the first time he'd acquiesced. Everyone is having a good time except for him. A committed communist, Version put the inhabitants of his home town in two categories, revolting working class and revolting working class; his workmates he considered to be unfortunately all the latter. They were the kind of people who thought 'Bourdieu' was the appropriate response to 'how are you?'
No matter, for he was holding his own quiet revolution, standing stock still and staring at his feet in the middle of an ad hoc dance floor and steadfastly refusing to respond to the DJ's 8th rewind of The Killers' Mr Brightside. His hands were also jammed deep into his pockets for fear of getting enmeshed in maelstrom of handbags, elbows, beer glasses and breasts that swirled around him.
All of a sudden the accounting brainbox (5 GCSEs) of Redcar Radiators bounded drunkenly up to Version, bawled something in his ear and tweaked his left buttock. Version looked confused for a moment before a smile started playing on his lips and his hands, liberated from their pockets, were thrust towards the ceiling.
"AND I JUST CAN'T LOOK, IT'S KILLING MEEEE"
For the umpteenth time he'd been invited by his colleagues at the heating company to the only serviceable social venue in the town and this was the first time he'd acquiesced. Everyone is having a good time except for him. A committed communist, Version put the inhabitants of his home town in two categories, revolting working class and revolting working class; his workmates he considered to be unfortunately all the latter. They were the kind of people who thought 'Bourdieu' was the appropriate response to 'how are you?'
No matter, for he was holding his own quiet revolution, standing stock still and staring at his feet in the middle of an ad hoc dance floor and steadfastly refusing to respond to the DJ's 8th rewind of The Killers' Mr Brightside. His hands were also jammed deep into his pockets for fear of getting enmeshed in maelstrom of handbags, elbows, beer glasses and breasts that swirled around him.
All of a sudden the accounting brainbox (5 GCSEs) of Redcar Radiators bounded drunkenly up to Version, bawled something in his ear and tweaked his left buttock. Version looked confused for a moment before a smile started playing on his lips and his hands, liberated from their pockets, were thrust towards the ceiling.
"AND I JUST CAN'T LOOK, IT'S KILLING MEEEE"
That ain't a song mate. I like rackets so I'm not as fundamentalist as @luka but that's not a particularly good racket either.