Does anyone else get the raging horn when theyâre hungover? Iâve been priapic all day after a night on the guinnesses and little RTFQ has been âin review orderâ since naafi break. I went to lunch after Moodybitch suggested I get some scran (that's not the only thing she suggested, the minx), as I couldnât face the mass humanity of the dining room, I opted for a bar meal. There was an ulterior motive for this decision. The barmaid (letâs call her Mary to protect her real name, which is Michelle) is a pert little thing from the province. She has lovely blue eyes, a quick, pretty smile and ma-husive chebs for such a small frame (I asked, sheâs a 32D). I flirt harmlessly with her when Iâm ordering drinks, because quite frankly it makes her day, but today was different. Iâm stood at the bar feeling like Dr Jekyll trying to fight Mr Hyde whilst little RTFQ is trying to jump up to the bar to see what all the fuss is about. All I wanted was an OJ and lemonade, but the word âBlowjobâ wouldnât leave my mind. I managed to order my drink, she pours it and asks âIce?â This stumps me as what I heard was âPlease bend me over the bar, cover my waps with pork scratchings and fcuk me like the stallion you are.â Mary is clearly used to me staring agape at her t1ts when she asks me things so proceeds to put cubes in my drink anyway. By this stage mini RTFQ is drooling and proceeding to experiment on the breaking strain of CS95 trousers, all the while my brain is about 5 seconds behind events and feels like its been knocked around like Little Mo off Eastenders. Things now start to get out of hand. She drops an ice cube on the bar, quickly picks it up and puts it in her mouth. Now, my brain instantly gets back on mission when her hand is about 5cm from her lips, and the whole thing goes soft-focus slow motion. I even caught a glimpse of her pointy pink tongue darting out to the cube just before entry. Oh bollox, the horn is backâ¦ hang on, I just need to readjust. Thatâs better, right, so I turn from the bar with my drink and put the other hand in my pocket in order to hide the fact I have a stalk on and painfully aware that Iâm wearing loose boxers. For the benefit of the ladies I will explain that CS95 trousers and loose keks are NOT a good combo when âRoger is Agitated.â Meanwhile Michelle disappears into the back room. Iâm just about to sit down when thereâs a smash. Sounds like Michelle has tipped over a load of glasses so I gallantly go to the backroom on the off chance that she did so whilst masturbating furiously on the worktop. Again, little RTFQ is leading from the front like a demented mini H Jones. I turn into the room. And walk straight into Michelle. Who, in a gloriously Carry-on moment, is bent over picking up pieces of glass. Mini RTFQ is pushed firmly against her left buttock. Iâve explained that CS95 is flimsy, and little RTFQ ainât that little when in fighting order, so there is no way she could NOT feel the arrival of my closest friend. She recoils and I try to grab her hips to (I SWEAR) stop her falling forward into the glass. Unfortunately she turns quickly to, understandably, identify who it was who just tried to storm the breach. For the briefest of seconds my left hand brushes her right butt cheek. She looked shocked, I was probably staring agape at her chebs again. All this is all very, very bad. I have unwittingly just performed two acts of sexual harassment. Luckily I have by now gone extremely red and I start apologising maniacally. With a twinkle in her eye she says in that beautiful Irish brogue: âDonât go worrying about itâ - a lightning quick look at my crotch â âI didnât feel a thing.â The lying cow. So, has anyoneâs extreme arousal ever got them in trouble before? Iâd be interested to know if any of the ladies have ever slipped off a bus seat because the bus driver was fit? Secondly, do you reckon, after the whole ice-cube, witty come-back situation that she wants some of me? I might get drunk and sing Neil Diamond at her or somethingâ¦..