Working at the NIA one day..
I was on my lunch and went with my work mate down to the local hardware shop as he needed to get a small hatchet to chop up kindling or his fire place.

Later that evening,.
We had been on the beers and were taking a walk up broad street. Now my work mate is a lovely chap, kind gentle but has had a dark side to his life. To describe him i would say he isn't rotund its a combination of muscle and a slight beer belly, but built like brick house made of poo. he is about 5ft 10.

On our way up road street 3 big guys walk towards us, and demand money and try kicking off. (bear in mind this is the middle of Brum Friday night, lots of people, police dotted around etc). He reaches in to his coat pulls out the hatchet....the look of pure evil and death on his face and says "You go that way we'll go this way" - the 3 guys have the look of needing their mum and slowly back away. My friend puts the hatchet back in his coat and off he toddles...It took me a few seconds of what the fuck happened....before I caught up with him

I miss those days...
( The invisible ham Fig rolls are the best, Thu 31 May 2012, 16:44, 2 replies)

Is
"a brick house made of poo" a shit-brick house? Or do you mean "brick shithouse"? These questions have to be asked.
(Rsoles, Fri 1 Jun 2012, 10:37, closed)

You gotta
axe his friend that one.
(username failed moderation, Fri 1 Jun 2012, 10:53, closed)