Day of being a fanny part 2 began with myself, Lil Red, Beautiful Boy and Straight Man A packing a picnic of sandwiches and wine for our supposed trip to the beach which turned out to be a jaunt to a park with more bushes than a lesbian orgy. We knew that 2 bottles of wine would satisfy no one's need to get twatted in the sun/rain so we loaded up our trolleys with jumbo alcopops and cheap fizzy wine along with silly snacks like the 14 year olds that we are and caused a full on physical ruccous when the haggard old bird who could have tripped over all her body parts asked us all for ID. With an average age of 22 between us this was the last thing we expected, despite our drinking habits of kids. A fight ensued until nasty old bint couldn't add to 21 and was forced to retreat and packed up the wine in thin carrier bags which were sure to break mid route. Along the 8 mile hike to get to bushy park we bought a stupid football cause we knew that after half a bottle of wine and multiple boxes of pringles that we would be up for a spot of exercise. This was not an opinion shared by us all of course because we all know I love exercise as much as I love meat paste. Once we finally dragged our heavy legs (mine weighing in at around 10 stone each) we found a secluded spot where no one would bother us apart from the gardeners doing community service who would later appear in their blue overalls to wink and salivate at the ladies (all four of us) as they slumped about, tools in hand (ahem) with their far too tightly laced boots. It wasn't long before the pretty blue sky turned into a torential storm and we took shelter within the bushes which really is the story of my life. Wine all finished it was time for Beautiful Boy to defy his sexuality and Lil Red and myself to conform to ours and play football. How is it that every boy, even gay boys who've never ran in their lives can play football without the slightest hint of effort? Maybe it's the good ball control. Or maybe it was because us lesbos were so utterly appalling that even my gran with 2 plastic hips would have done a better job. There was plenty of mud and sliding tackles and shoulder barges mainly from over competitive Fee who found running like performing a handjob, pretty much impossible. All adrenalined up there was only one thing to do. Tic and Tag. Everyone ran off in various directions but Fee got caught with her face in a bush before Beautiful Boy had even counted past 3. Eventually I snuck back to the alcohol area, grabbed myself some pop and snuggled up under a dripping bush where no could see me but I could see them. It's kinda funny observing people that can't see you. They all chuckled to themselves as they thought Fee was still running around the park thinking the game was still on and it’s really just as well I did not hear them mention the words ‘overweight’ and ‘thick legs’. Clearly by this time everyone was well on their way to being pretty smashed and being in Hazlehead Park, the park famous for it’s hedged maze, we had to go in. The only problem being it was locked up for Winter, despite this being as good as Summer as Aberdeen can get. This deterred no one and we snuck in through the wire fence with only my fat ass getting left behind as I could not gather enough energy to pull the oversized butt through the fence. It would only hinder my journey anyway. The maze was long and hard, no that story is going somewhere else that I’m unfamiliar with and we left trails of alcopop lids, crisp packets and most notably, my farts which spurred us on til we eventually reached the middle, with our heads all dizzy and our legs all wobbly, which was mainly from the guff induced haze we were all part of. The centre piece was an upturned bench which deserved to be carved and we tore out of the maze only to be greeted by a grinning park warden who said ‘hi’ and waved as we tried to pile out of the fence, as though we had slipped in by accident. How rebellious are we not? And why was this lone warden not intimidated by us gang of rowdy youths? Maybe because we looked more like a queer tea party who would swear and hurl abuse only at Kate Moss for having last season’s gear on. Bless. As it was lashing with rain and the kids had all buggered off to tea of fish and chips and early beds we had the whole playpark to ourselves, apart from the 12 year olds who yelled queers at us on a couple of occasions. There was much swinging and much sliding, favourably face first down tunnel slides and there was plenty of mud. Again. I really am trying to recreate my favourite video of Shakira frolicking in the mud, except I look more like a pig in shite when I try. Then there was a nasty swing incident which involved two people on a swing, an over exaggerated push to gather some momentum and afore mentioned two people flying backwards off kid swing for one to reveal an entire bare arse to all who gathered near. Yes, and it would have to be my global ass that decided today was the day the whole world needed to view such a mammoth sight. Who cares that heads were smashed of the ground as we fell off and who cares that my pants were now mud filled because the sight of my ass, skidding along the ground, is one that will have scarred the minds of all who saw it until they die. Mortified? Oh yes. Having also gotten carried away with see saws and falling off them and bruising my fanny in the process I was ready to trek to the bus stop and head to the vodka Bar for liquid refreshment in the form of a jumbo puke. The day was all good and the photos are even better. When I work out how to post them on here I will pleasure you all with the delights. No, really.
Listening to: Dolly Parton 9-5 (revived and remixed)