"Morning, Jack."
"Hey Paddy, what's the story?"
"I just made it in before this prick arrives. I'd never hear the end of it if he caught me being late again."
"You look a bit rough, Pat. Were you out on the tiles last night?"
"All fucking weekend, Jack. I'll have to take a rest, I think."
"From the drink?"
"What? Are you fucking mental? From work, of course."
"Work is the curse of the drinking man, Pat. Brendan Behan said that."
"He was a wise and talented man, Jack."
"He should be canonised, Pat."
"Did you do anything the weekend?"
"No, I had to fix a few tiles on the neighbour's roof. The prick didn't even offer me the price of a few pints."
"The hungry bastard!"
"I'll be taking them back off tonight when he goes to bed."
"Be careful he doesn't hear you. Here he is now, I suppose he expects us to become the Fabulous Benzini Brothers again with this roof."
"Health and Safety is not his forte, Pat, as you well know. I'm sure the cunt has a tightrope somewhere in that van just in case. Any joy with the ladies over the weekend?"
"None around, Jack. I had to make do with a couple of little slappers from Darndale."
"Oh, how did that go?
"The one on Friday night was great. She was a little raver. Nothing was disallowed, Jack, and I mean nothing."
"What about the other one? No joy there at all?"
"Ah yes, Jack, a little bit. She blew me but only let me finger her a bit."
"I love a bit of the old fingering, Pat."
"Yeah, it has a certain savoir-faire about it alright."
"I believe they’re trying to change the name of it to something a little less crude or crudely descriptive."
"Ah they can’t do that, Jack. A man knows exactly where he stands with a bit of fingering."
"As a renowned fingerer myself, I can understand where the fingeree is coming from, though, Paddy.”
"What? You mean the fingeree would like the name changed or the practice abolished?"
"They can't abolish it, Paddy, the fingerers would be up in arms, pardon the pun."
"There's not much better than a talented fingerer gently massaging a welcoming minge, is there, Jack?"
"No, it's a sacred thing that was designed by God. The finger was made for a minge: It's a natural partner to it and the women know that. Oh, I know that they have concerns about inexperienced fingerers and the tenderness of the flaps when they're handled roughly or with disrespect but it'd be terribly unfair to registered and authorised fingerers like yourself and meself to abolish it completely."
"It would, Jack, and the taste of them after a good old gusher. I mean you can’t beat it. Here, smell this one from Saturday night."
"Get that away from me you dirty bastard. Did you not wash your hands afterwards?"
"No, that's a souvenir, Jack."
"Did she let you stick it in inside?"
"She did, it was lovely."
"I'd say so, Paddy, there's nothing better."
“Well, I don’t know about that, Jack. A nice sloppy blowjob by the fireside is perfect of a cold winter’s night”
“Have a look at that walking down the road, Pat.”
“Jesus she has fantastic legs.”
“She has, God bless her.”
“And not a stick of clothing to sully their appearance.”
“I’d say she’s wearing a G String, would you?”
“Well by the way she’s walking, I’d say it’s right up the crack of her lovely little arse.”
“Not everyone can carry a G String off, Pat. I mean, look at your woman across the road there, nice tits but her arse is a disaster.”
“Here’s our girl walking past now. Fuck me, she’s gorgeous.”
“She’s well put together, and she’s full of herself too.”
“I wonder where she drinks.”
“It doesn’t matter, Pat. Seeing her up close she has a few little issues about her.”
“Yeah, nobody’s perfect. but I wouldn’t throw her out of the bed, Jack.”
“You’d get up on a crack in the concrete there, Pat, so that’s no recommendation.”
“I know, but it all comes back to the legs, Jack. Look at the shape and colour of them. They’re almost cream. See how they kind of just sneak up under her skirt all the way to her arse.”
“Yes, I see them, Pat. They go all the way up to her arse alright. and then they make a cunt of themselves.”
END
