Memoirs of a Whoremonger - the Human Piano

Discussion in 'The NAAFI Bar' started by trickywoo, Jan 20, 2009.

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  1. Mate of mine’s just been to Amsterdam for the first time and this has reminded me of when I lived in Cologne near the legendary brothel then known as Pasha. This was a twin set of converted council blocks, each ten stories high and a few kilometres from the City centre. One block was entirely full of Africans and other assorted members of the non-swimming nations. As such it was cheaper than its more European cousin across the way. I never went inside the cheaper one as my lower half by then knew what was to come in Africa and was alarmed into a state of shrivelled shyness when in the presense of Ladies Afraid of Water.

    The main building was, then, a work of simple Teutonic brilliance. One paid 5DM entry which allowed access to all nine floors (the tenth floor was forbidden – more later), with a bar on each allowing those of an arab extraction to gawp at the ladies on display. The really clever bit was that the floors were stratified. Floors one to three were for those less blessed with good looks. Four to six were attractive and seven and eight were all stunners. Nine was the kinky German fun floor with rubber doors and God knows what behind them. There was no lift, so the truly stocious would not make it past floor 3 and those of us of a more weighty nature had to be properly up for it to make the effort to walk to eight. There was, however, an alternative. This was Club Maximillian on the tenth floor. To enter this haven one had to swipe a credit card in the lift on the ground floor whence one would be whisked toot-sweet to the moistened den of the Club. I’d recently left a consulting firm who’d been daft enough to give me a Corpy Amex card and this was still live. In the card went, in went Dickie and in went three of my former colleagues all happily buzzing on Sekt and Kolsch. Therein, I received the second best blowy of my debauched existence (No.1 was Vegas, since you ask) however we decided that when the bill hit £3,000 it was time to leg it.

    The following week we reconvened in my flat to see if the night could be bested. It could. However we were now on our own cash so a cheaper form of debauchery needed to be found. Whilst living in Koeln I’d recently been in the habit of getting massively hammered then bagging a couple of ladies of negotiable freindliness around to the flat for the evening where I’d watch Top Gun and they’d put on a show in the sitting room. Later on, we’d have some threesome fun in my room then I’d pay ‘em with a large tip and all was well. This gave us an idea. There were three of us so with bellers bigger than our brains we decided we’d need three each. So, in my little flat we had 9 lasses and 3 lads. One they’d wrestled Top Gun from my fingers, we made a plan. We needed a way to have a go on each of them which meant some sort of ordered list. What Charlie worked out next was a stroke of genius. In the line-up were 6 euros and 3 non-swimmers. As such, we invented the Human Piano. This was nine girls, bent forwards over a dining tabel we’d dismantled (at 4am) and rebuilt badly in the sitting room. Charlie had Grade 3 Royal School iof Music so we naturally deferred to him for the arrangement and, with one of the Euros being from the Pornoland Confederation named Sofiya, we had our middle-C. The deal was than upon entry each lass would call out in more or less the correct note (very musical these European types). We needed an extra black note so persuaded one of the more adventurous and /or skint white girls to take a difficult brown for double money. My Russian skills led me to understand that she was up for taking it but resented being treated as a black woman. Not at all politically with it, your Rooskies. All proceeded as planned for half an hour or so, the only problem being Achtung Andreas from Ost Berlin who was a bit too keen on the old Rascenschander and hogging the sharp notes but once the rules were written down all became fair. As the sun came up over this happy scene and over the nine assorted bums, we managed two verses of God Save the Queen. Andreas even got us to bang out Deutschland Uber Alles. By 7am we were flagging and decided to shut up shop for the nicht. After Andreas discovered two of the girls were from the Ukraine he claimed Lebensraum and got a staff discount of the only female Eric.

    I think I’m going to go round the corner to RBS at lunchtime and offer a few of the more attractive traders hard cash for the time of their lives. Anyone coming with?
  2. It's "Koln" with an umlaut above the "o" ;)
  3. WTF ?? You watched Top Gun, thats bad drills !! :roll:
  4. At airports in Germany, there are no umlauts on the information boards. This is why Munich is seen as Muenchen and Cologne is Koeln, the ue and oe being the "accented letters". Diese Methode fur die Deutshe Leute keine Probleme praesentieren. Why not for you also?
  5. It was Cologne when we were flattening it............

  6. we left the Dom Cathedral though........

    Well the Germans left St Pauls............

  7. Fecking hell. You spend an hour or your morning coming up with something witty in a vain attempt to raise a smile and you lot just want to talk about German grammar.

    Ich habe mein Teddy auserdem Kinderwagen geworfen. Zo da.
  8. It's very good, Trickywoo.
    It's very witty, funny, clever, inspired and fascinating.
    I was impressed and amused.

    So I thought you must have pinched it!
  9. Allegedly, a Pan Am 727 flight waiting for start clearance in Munich overheard the following:
    Lufthansa (in German): "Ground, what is our start clearance time?"
    Ground (in English): "If you want an answer you must speak in English."
    Lufthansa (in English): "I am a German, flying a German airplane, in Germany. Why must I speak English?"
    Unknown voice from another plane (in a beautiful British accent): "Because you lost the bloody war."

    and the now famous;

    Allegedly the German air controllers at Frankfurt Airport are renowned as a short-tempered lot. They, it is alleged, not only expect one to know one's gate parking location, but how to get there without any assistance from them. So it was with some amusement that we (a Pan Am 747) listened to the following exchange between Frankfurt ground control and a British Airways 747, call sign Speedbird 206.
    Speedbird 206: "Frankfurt, Speedbird 206 clear of active runway."
    Ground: "Speedbird 206. Taxi to gate Alpha One-Seven." The BA 747 pulled onto the main taxiway and slowed to a stop.
    Ground: "Speedbird, do you not know where you are going?"
    Speedbird 206: "Stand by, Ground, I'm looking up our gate location now."
    Ground (with quite arrogant impatience): "Speedbird 206, have you not been to Frankfurt before?"
    Speedbird 206 (coolly): "Yes, twice in 1944, but it was dark,... and I didn't land."
  10. We were lucky to hit Cologne, never mind pick out individual buildings!!

    Early in WW2 some of the RAF were so afr off target they bombed targets in England............

    You must be too young to remember the days before laser/GPS guidance. The history of the Bomber Command campaign is fascinating - look up the Butt Report of 18 August 1941.....

  11. B_AND_T

    B_AND_T LE Book Reviewer

    How did we go from doing whores up the ricker to bombing Koln.

    Oh I see both topics are about fcuking Germans. Gotcha!!
  12. Looks like Dashing Chap has some competition.
  13. What are we talking about here lads? Whores or German grammar?