Dead Trev (i)
Trev (nick-named Dead
Trev for obvious reasons to those who know him), couldn't believe his luck. There,
at the disco (it was the 80’s) in The George, was the current girl of his
dreams. Ever since she'd served him dinner in the staff canteen he'd fancied
her. He made a point of always choosing something, no matter what; “pig’s
balls? Yea, double portion please, lovely stuff”, from her servery. She, in his
words, ‘would soon be begging for it’. All he had to do was bide his time until
the perfect moment presented itself. And here it was.
She was dancing, he
joined her and using one of his original chat-up lines said, “mine's a bakewell
tart and custard, luv”.
So, though she smiled
sweetly, he returned to our table and said dejectedly, “I think I’ve blown that
one”.
Dead Trev (ii)
A whole crowd of us from work were enjoying a birthday lunch at the pub
when we were joined by
extremely straight-laced,
high-church, Pandora Arkwright. She had not been in work that day so was
dressed in her casual clothes. Very casual as in low-cut, tight white t-shirt,
jeans and obviously, no bra! She was flaunting her big
jugs all over the place while Trev, with his eyes popping out of his head and
not known for subtlety just couldn’t resist the temptation to speak.
“Can I slip my cheesecake down your front?” he asked.
As they say, the silence was deafening. Even we, his mates, were in awe of this blunder! He turned to us and said, “Did I say THAT?” Yes you did Trev, and it was brilliant!
Dead Trev has been in touch to tell me I'd got one fact wrong so I feel I must make a correction. He insists the disco was held on company premises, not at The George. Hahahahaha. He also mentioned a 'short' story he was glad I didn't print. Maybe that's one for the future, heh Trev?
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