Encounter with a window-licker

Mercifully, our "special" friends do not feature largely in my life; the Dutch seem to have a knack for sequestering our educationally-challenged brethren in municipal animal parks, where they can be kept under supervision at all times to ensure that they're not rodgering the Vietnamese pot-bellied pig or licking the exotic south-American toads. This has the added bonus of ensuring that if I wish to experience these people, I know where I can go for a good laugh after a few mid-day bevvies. Sometimes they even attempt to talk to me, and I can assure you that a mong trying to speak Dutch is just as funny as one that tries to speak English. In some respects even more so, since the amount of phlegm produced is several orders of magnitude higher, and often ends up cascading onto their careworn and love-stained "I love 1978" T-shirts.

But not today, however. The path of my otherwise "normal" life was crossed by a window-licker.

I was at the pool after work for a bit of a swim - and by swim I mean attempt to drag my corpulent body through a measely kilometre of mild disinfectant and urine solution - and as I was about to enter the pleasant, calming waters, this apparition appeared in the pool beneath me.

Now, I'm a speccy 4-eyed twat at the best of times, but on these occasions I am without my little windows on the world. I squinted to see more clearly. Something was not quite right about the apparition before me. Poking out of the water was a head. This head had upon it your stereotypical mong coiffure. "Aha! One of our less-fortunate brethren", I thought.

But something appeared wrong. The head of the 19-toed wonder was ostentiably male-looking, as far as a being with 97 chromasomes could be considered male. Through the haze of my mild myopia, the glint of a cubic zircona ear stud caught my eye. "This proves nothing!", I thought. "Plenty of males wear ear studs in these 'progressive' times". As the entity hauled itself under the lane ropes to gain access to the steps, something else caught my defective eyes: over its shoulders were STRAPS. Swimming costume straps.

This puzzled me. "Well, the son of my gay uncle wore a girl's swim suit", my open-minded id whispered in one ear. "Or maybe it is just a very male-looking mongette".

Fascinated by the specimin before me, and convinced that it should be mercifully killed (i.e. no chainsaws or axes) and preserved in formaldehyde for scientists to puzzle over for centuries, I tried to study it without blatently staring. There it was, in the water, with the head of a male and the swimsuit of a female.

Well, this is Holland: stranger things have happened here.

Whilst trying to sex the beast, it performed some kind of duck dive, and appeared to have some sort of bulge contained within the lower portion of the swimsuit - the part usually destined to prevent gentlemen from seeing a lady's naughty bits. This thickened the plot rather.

As it approached the steps next to which I was sitting, I believed that I would be presented with a perfect opportunity to settle the question once and for all. As it egressed from the water, I searched its chest for any signs of mammary glands. Small protruberances were visible, however these could have equally have been the relaxed pectoral muscles of a male of average build, or the extremely teeny titties of a poorly-endowed female. I was puzzled, and rather disturbed. Was this the product of some vile scientific experiment?

As it passed me within range of my visual acuity, I looked again for any definitive signs to ascertain the sex of the window-licker. The bulge which I thought I had witnessed appeared to have disappeard, but I could not be sure. I was trying my hardest not to stare, but the sheer thrill of this scientific investigation was compelling.

By this time it was well out of my visual range, so I formulated my conclusions:

1. Whatever it was, it licked windows - Dutch windows. Probably the windows of some serious stoner.
2. It was most definitely a BoB ("Bloke or Bird").
3. The Stoat is a 4-eyed speccy twat and went for a swim in a mild solution of tard piss this afternoon after squinting at the mong-beast that provided it.
4. Whatever it was, MDN would probably shag it anyway.
stoatman said:
4. Whatever it was, MDN would probably shag it anyway.
Only if it was dead :D

Bernoulli is the man for mongol mounting
Mighty_doh_nut said:
stoatman said:
4. Whatever it was, MDN would probably shag it anyway.
Only if it was dead :D

Bernoulli is the man for mongol mounting
I'm sure it would play dead to gain an entry by such an esteemed man as yourself. :twisted:
You should of swam up behind, and "Spocked" it. Always works for me.


Special Wing.
HMP Kingston

Anyway, MDN is the last man who should cast aspersions: I know for a fact that he still has three flat-headed, mewling lovelies shackled up in his allotment shed.

I should know, I sold them to him.... :D
Stoatie, I always rely on Mr Wobbly at times like this, as he is invariably right and I fully respect his judgement.

What you need to do is corner the Bug (Beast of Uncertain Gender) somewhere quiet, the changing rooms are good for this, a cubicle even better. Once there, casually approach the Bug, lean across them as if reaching for your towel and then, in a flash, quickly stick your tongue down their throat while grabbing clumsily at their nipples.

One thing is certain... they will wriggle. You now have to hold on for a bit and wait to see how Mr Wobbly reacts. If he stays curled up asleep, it's time to make hurried excuses and leave (Holland probably) asap. If however, Mr Wobbly gets 'angry' then you are on to a winner. Not only have you solved the riddle, but also have secured a date for the evening and maybe even a potential bride.

One thing to watch out for is if the Bug turns out to be not only a bloke, but a bloke with an ever increasing bulge in his shreddies. This situation can go from bad to worse if he turns out to be a bit stronger than you and then the seclusion of the cubicle can seem somewhat of a, shall we say, handicap.

Hope this helps.
I am a little perplexed by the whole situation - especially the potential bulge in the swimming pool. I may be putting my neck on the chopping block here but when ever I frequent a swimming pool my *modest* tackle shrivels up in to what can only be described as a cheesy Wotsit thats gone stale. The fact that this creature had a visible package in the water makes me gasp with fright, or embarrasment (I haven't decide which).

My mind does meander off slightly when I contemplate the Dutch mongos though. I am sure that I read an article on the smuggling operation of sea snails through Holland from the Adriatic sea. Could it be that these ruthless modern day pirates are using public baths to carry out their illicit trade? And that they are using Special Needs SAG's (Shes A Geezer's) as mules?

Think about it.... As the SAG pulls out of the pool the transfer of snails could have occured. The local authorities would never cotton on as they, like you, would be preoccupied with trying to sex the creature. And who in their right mind (appart from AWOL obviously) would ave a fumble and a play to catch the SAG in the act?
FNB - your synopsis is outlandish, but there's merit in it.

The way the window-licker staggered back to the changing rooms did indicate that something strange was going on - whether in its head, or if indeed a transfer of snails had occurred.

Perhaps I should have enticed it into a hessian sack weighed down with scrap iron & pushed it in at the deep end - to find out whether mongs have gills, of course...
You could always have Dundee'd it................as in Croc Dundee, just walked up and copped a feel.

Time spent in recce is never wasted and as it would have been a recce casts no apertions on your sexuality for deliberately grabbing a male mlarrrs tackle.
Thread starter Similar threads Forum Replies Date
Auld-Yin The Book Club 2
ThunderBox The NAAFI Bar 112
Goatman Photography 43

Similar threads

Latest Threads