Classic clangers from the last week
Firming the butt
On the smoking terrace at The Rib Room Bar, an Arabic lady told her friend: “Cycling: You’ve got to buy a bike… I’ve tired it all but running on the treadmill now… Running on the treadmill is the only way to get a firm butt”. A Jennifer Lopez in the making?
A man on the terrace at Sandy Lane in Barbados told his wife he was divorcing her for a younger woman. When she cried and said she loved him, he reminded her of the status of their sex life. “We’ve only been having ABC sex: anniversary, birthday, Christmas”, he calmly commented. She cried a little more.
“I bet that scummy block of flats is dear”, commented a Northerner standing outside a building in Lowndes Square, Knightsbridge to his bleach blonde wife. A passerby overheard him and responded: “Oh yes… And you get Roman Abramovich for a neighbour”. “No thanks”, answered the Northerner: “Oh him… Now, there’s a piece of bloody scum. I’d have to vomit on his doorstep every day”. Charming.
At the National Art Library at the V&A, a Peruvian woman asked: “I know you’re a library but do you have books?” What did she expect would be on offer? Porn films?
An orange coloured Essex broad in the express lift at Harvey Nick’s: “She was well jel… She was well, well jel…” Her equally glowing friend: “Jel of what babe?” “You know, you know… My figure of course… She told me I looked like Katie Price”. Friend: “The cheek: You’re more of a Jodie Marsh”. Harsh.
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Once overheard students in a Pub discuss genetics. The skinny fellow said to his friend “How do you determine the genetics of a blonde girl? His friend had a sly grin on his face and said “I merely pull down their jeans.