I was working away a couple of weeks ago with another member of the boards, URFA. We were doing a load of survey work around the Dumfries and Galloway area and ended up staying in a hotel in Dumfries for 3 nights. The first night we were there we just had a few pints in the hotel bar and knocked it on the head. The second night we got bladdered in Dumfries then went back to the hotel, to find a coachload of Irish farmers ransacking the bar. We had a few beers with them and ended up leathered, with the next days work starting in 4 hours. That meant that the next night had to be a fairly sober affair, and we were trying to think of things to do that didn't involve boozing. I came up with the bright idea of going to the flicks to see "Pirates of the Caribbean 2" There was a big queue to get in, all fcuking couples. We spent all our time trying not to do or say anything that might exacerbate the appearance that we were a couple of fruits on a date. It was funny as fcuk. You could see the birds in the queue pegging us and doing a nudge-nudge-wink-wink with their fellas, whilst me and URFA started talking loudly about our kids and wives and how we had no interest in interior decor or Shirley Bassey. You know what though, a little bit of me wanted to ham it up a bit, and start giving it the Larry Grayson routine, just to try and embarass the fcuk out of URFA. I was sorely tempted, but resisted as I didn't want to have to scrap with a 4 foot 2 Dumfreeshan fuelled up on 2 pint bravado, all the while shouting "I'm not a fcuking puff, you knob. I was only messing" In a small reproduction of the circumstances, URFA today accompanied me to the Asda Walmart near Man City's ground. My 18 month old flushed the Sky Plus controller down the toilet to see if he could break both at the same time. He only managed to sha-g the remote. Our toilet is used to sturdier stuff and has coped with logs so big that the Sky Plus box would be considered a Malteser in comparison. I came home last night to find my wife on the phone to Sky to get a replacement. I had to do a Clint Eastwood, In the Line of Fire style dive to grab the receiver and prevent her completing the transaction. "Fcuk that, they'll charge you the earth for it." So there we were in the Walmart, a pair of potential puffs again. URFA had come along on the flimsy pretext that he needed a couple of bits and bobs. I mentioned to him as we 'cruised' the aisles looking for the Sky boxes, that we were looking like borderline quegs again. We found the right bit of the shop. The only other person in the aisle was an old bird looking at the Freeview TV's. As I looked at the price for the remotes, I could see her eyeing us suspiciously and seized my chance. URFA in his ridiculously strong Geordie accent said, "How man, that's nee fcukin laffin matta, the price o' them" I immediately replied, in my best Dale Winton, "Well if you don't bloo-dy like it, you can just bloo-dy well move out," followed by an over the top hands on hips gesture. Her face was a fcuking picture, as she mentally pressed the record button on her internal gossip machine. For a couple of seconds URFA was like a rabbit in the headlights, frantically wondering which response would secure his heterosexual status in the eyes of a sag-titted complete stranger. A full punch in the face may have pulled it off, but in the end, and to his credit, he topped me. As I was stood there grinning like a sh-itting dog, he shouted, in the loudest voice that he could possibly muster, "Well maybe I fcuking will and you can suck your own fcuking co-ck" I dropped the fcuking remote and ran for my life. I could hear him p-issing his sides as I vaulted the checkout and legged it to the car. Have any other ARRSERS adopted similar tactics in quasi-queer situations?