Flaming Nostrils...

Wings

Hey guys girls and shims. Just a quickie as it's hideously late/early (5:11am). Just had a fantastic night shakin the shimmy shimmy at the club. A saturday night off I hear you chitter? Yes the winged one did actually do a bit of socialisng that didn't include the questions "are you enjoying your night madam", "more champagne sir" or "will somebody tell mark to stop chewing his f**k-eyed nails!". Unlike friday which was a complete drain of a night for the launch of the White Lion! Much hob nobbing and plum talking later, we decided to carry on the festivities back at Ellen's gaff in fancy-hanley-town. After convincing the chippy to give us three bags of food (chips, fish, sausages, fritters, pizza, kebab meat, chicken, battered mars bars etc) for £12 at 3am we decided to down some vodka and coke and let the children get exceedingly high on weed.
After Gert (my manager) decided to polish off most of the bottle, a couple of mini bar bottles and a bit of bacardi we took his unconcious corpse to the floor for a bit of hair removal. As in set fire to his nostril hair. And veet his arm. And his leg. Note that I used a singular not plural use of limbage there. After finally coming to and complaining that his wrist 'smelt of cat piss' and blaming poor salem, he finally realised his folic free appendage amidst much belly achein laughter and wheezing titters. Note to self - do not fall asleep round these guys in the work place...
Other than that I've watched a full spit cat fight between Celia and Joan after hours (much to Sherrin's glee methinx) which included a bitch slap, a drinkin contest, Jerry Springer style reactions from the audience of staff and vomiting. Ah, I do miss the staff drinks after a saturday night.
Brandy anyone?
Wings xXx