Monday, 15 August 2011

There’s this one time in Soho, London...

Two eastern European immigrants enter a gay bar... True story, this time it's no joke.

So I was walking around Soho with a friend and decided to sit for a beer. And we picked the first pub with free seats on the table since we were not the mood to stand out from the crowd. Not from that crowd any way. I don't remember the the name of the pub, but I can remember our revelation when we turned from the bar with our pints: "do you see any women in here?".

Fearfully we escorted our drinks to what seemed the most isolated table on the premises, with shyness in our eyes as we scouted around. We took notice of the two exits and named the nearest as the emergency one. Soon beer got us looking for the other most important door in a pub. It is then we noticed there was no ladies' room. And having looked around we saw no need for it, cause everywhere you looked there were just men wearing skinny shirts and other revealing revealing clothing, commonly known as gay clothes. But going straight to the men's room seemed like going into the beast's lair. For you may go straight but must never turn your back! All butt that.

After all, gay bars are quite straight forward... Well, I guess they're actually neither straight nor forward; butt backwards...

The beef burger was great though. I was stuffed after that.

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