Barry...
I went to uni in Glasgow. Great fun, apart from a few moments when i was living with Barry. Mental Barry.

Three mates came up to stay for the weekend, and we took Barry out on the town for a few swift halves. One thing led to another, and it's 4am back at ours, polishing off the last of the whiskey.
My mate Matt had pull a young sort and was in the bedroom with her, when Barry called us in. There stands Matt, bollock naked, bottle of gin in hand, and the room covered in blood. After the initial panic, we realised that he'd stepped on some broken glass and it had left a pretty deep cut. Sobering up by this point, we send young girl home, clean up his foot, then head to bed.

Come noon the next day, we head back down the pub to watch the footy, leaving Matt sleeping off his hangover, and Barry keeping an eye on him.
At about 6pm, and well on our way, we get a phone call from Matt, telling us he's on the train home and that Barry would explain everything...

Turns out, when Matt had woken up the next day (not remembering too much) and seen the blood in the room, Barry had taken the opportunity to spin a little tale, which went something along the lines of:

Matt: What the fuck happened last night?
Barry: You know that girl you brought back last night?
M: Yeah...
B: You raped her.
M: But...The blood...?
B: Virgin blood.

And with this revelation, Barry went off to work. It was about 3 hours before Barry called him to let him in on the 'joke,' during which time Matt reckons he couldn't decide whether to kill himself or go to the police.

Funnily enough, people didn't come to stay with me much after that.

So that was Barry - Always good for a night out, but completely fucking mental.
(kccat does NOT look like Joe 90, Thu 26 Feb 2009, 23:08, Reply)