This story contains some 'Bloke' - type humour, don't read if you are easily offended.
A few years ago, when I was in my early thirties, I used to drink in a bit of a rough pub in Bootle. When I say rough , I mean a couple of punch ups a week type place, feet sticking to the carpets type place.
There was a very strong pub-culture and a great number of local 'characters' and this story is about one of them, I wasn't central to this story, but I witnessed it, from the crowd. The character was a guy called racker, I dont even know his real name, he got the nickname because he was dark skinned, so we called him racoon, which truncated to racker. We called him racoon because he looked like a... well I'll let you work that one out for yourself.
I first got to know him when he ran the pub raffle. He would come around the lounge with a bucket and a pad of cloakroom tickets, when we bought the tickets he would put them in the bucket and have a draw when all the tickets were sold. We had the odd win but it was usually some git in the bar that won the raffle (about £20). I was chatting to a friend who drank in the bar with his dad and he complained one day 'it always seems to be some git in the lounge that wins that fkin raffle'.
A few months later racker was taking something out of his pocket and a ticket was spotted by an eagle eyed punter that later turned out to be the winning ticket. He had been keeping back one of the tickets, coming into the lounge shouting 'winner in the bar', then going into the bar shouting 'winner in the lounge', then keeping the money.
Oh how we laughed. Clever guy racker, and a great hit with the ladies.
One day we got a new barmaid, I cant remember her name, but she was an absolute stunner, great personality, and a good barmaid to boot. All the studs tried it on with her but she was very firm 'I wont go out with anyone from the pub. I have made that mistake before, I wont mix work with my personal life'. She was adamant.
That didn't stop them trying though, and racker was the most persistant. He tried all the tricks in the book, and he knew ALL the tricks. One night she started to crack and he was there, with all the lines. 'If I go out to a club with you tonight you have to promise never to breathe a word to anyone here. EVER' she warned, 'Of course I wont, trust me. On my mothers life, on my grandmothers life, on my kids lives, on my hamsters life..' etc. you get the idea. So she agreed, and they met secretly after closing and went clubbing. None of us in the pub knew any of this.
Next afternoon we were in the pub, about a dozen of us, sitting round telling jokes and having a gab, Racker came in with a grin like the Cheshire cat
'Guess who I was sh@gging all last night?'. We all gathered round to hear the details and we were awed, he was the man. The he shouted 'Look what I got' and he whipped a pair of knickers out of his pocket. We fell about and Terry, a big lad took them and gave them a good sniff, 'Fck me, kippers', then Steve 'Nah, tuna fish'. We all had a good sniff.
Racker didnt seem to have a care in the world, big grin, totally relaxed. Then an older guy from the back of the bar came over to get a round for his table, he said 'what you got there boys, givvus a sniff'
Racker jumped forward, snatched the knicks and ploughed through the crowd, knocking people out of the way, spilling ale, causing howls of protest. He stormed out of the pub leaving a lot of very angry scousers in his wake.
He had a point though, it would not have been right to let the guy sniff his own daughters knickers.
A few years ago, when I was in my early thirties, I used to drink in a bit of a rough pub in Bootle. When I say rough , I mean a couple of punch ups a week type place, feet sticking to the carpets type place.
There was a very strong pub-culture and a great number of local 'characters' and this story is about one of them, I wasn't central to this story, but I witnessed it, from the crowd. The character was a guy called racker, I dont even know his real name, he got the nickname because he was dark skinned, so we called him racoon, which truncated to racker. We called him racoon because he looked like a... well I'll let you work that one out for yourself.
I first got to know him when he ran the pub raffle. He would come around the lounge with a bucket and a pad of cloakroom tickets, when we bought the tickets he would put them in the bucket and have a draw when all the tickets were sold. We had the odd win but it was usually some git in the bar that won the raffle (about £20). I was chatting to a friend who drank in the bar with his dad and he complained one day 'it always seems to be some git in the lounge that wins that fkin raffle'.
A few months later racker was taking something out of his pocket and a ticket was spotted by an eagle eyed punter that later turned out to be the winning ticket. He had been keeping back one of the tickets, coming into the lounge shouting 'winner in the bar', then going into the bar shouting 'winner in the lounge', then keeping the money.
Oh how we laughed. Clever guy racker, and a great hit with the ladies.
One day we got a new barmaid, I cant remember her name, but she was an absolute stunner, great personality, and a good barmaid to boot. All the studs tried it on with her but she was very firm 'I wont go out with anyone from the pub. I have made that mistake before, I wont mix work with my personal life'. She was adamant.
That didn't stop them trying though, and racker was the most persistant. He tried all the tricks in the book, and he knew ALL the tricks. One night she started to crack and he was there, with all the lines. 'If I go out to a club with you tonight you have to promise never to breathe a word to anyone here. EVER' she warned, 'Of course I wont, trust me. On my mothers life, on my grandmothers life, on my kids lives, on my hamsters life..' etc. you get the idea. So she agreed, and they met secretly after closing and went clubbing. None of us in the pub knew any of this.
Next afternoon we were in the pub, about a dozen of us, sitting round telling jokes and having a gab, Racker came in with a grin like the Cheshire cat
'Guess who I was sh@gging all last night?'. We all gathered round to hear the details and we were awed, he was the man. The he shouted 'Look what I got' and he whipped a pair of knickers out of his pocket. We fell about and Terry, a big lad took them and gave them a good sniff, 'Fck me, kippers', then Steve 'Nah, tuna fish'. We all had a good sniff.
Racker didnt seem to have a care in the world, big grin, totally relaxed. Then an older guy from the back of the bar came over to get a round for his table, he said 'what you got there boys, givvus a sniff'
Racker jumped forward, snatched the knicks and ploughed through the crowd, knocking people out of the way, spilling ale, causing howls of protest. He stormed out of the pub leaving a lot of very angry scousers in his wake.
He had a point though, it would not have been right to let the guy sniff his own daughters knickers.
Quality EO.
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