An evening with occasional txts.
It was a mournful night at the Black Cap, probably caused by the combination of
Eurovision failure and Kylie hovering between life and tribute band.
Text: Wall-to-wall Kylie. Men with big arms and careful hair are dancing very slowly.
Text: Thank god for the football! There's a pretty man here in a kilt.
The pretty man in a kilt did not escape Sandra's attention. The drag queen called him up on stage. He turned out to be South African.
Text: What is it about South Africans flooding the gay scene? Last year it was Brazilians. Is there a gay exchange programme? Can I, oh can I be swapped with a Latvuanian?
When Sandra asked him to take off his top she got more than she bargained for. He whipped off his pants. With a squeal of delight, Sandra ordered the DJ to lie down and inspect the kilted undercarriage. At which point, the South African dropped to the floor and started to thrust...
Text: Oh my god! Live sex show!
A shocked Sandra eventually managed to wrest the grinding kilt wearer off the DJ. I've never seen her speechlesss before, but this was certainly quite spectacular. And how better to follow it than with a support act singing MOR ballads? Well, quite.
Unfortunately, the South African was so pretty that most of the other Handsome Men left in disgruntlement. There was one attractive man there, standing near an old man with a twinkle in his eye. So, I started flirting with the one attractive man left.
Text: Must not chat up escorts in front of their clients
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