I bet the fucker wore Huntsman bespoke while doing the animals.

http://www.statemaster.com/encyclopedia/Bestiality%27s-Best

Well, bugger!

When I was in middle school, there was kid nicknamed Catfish due to his alleged activities with that creature.

Last edited by The_Shooman (2010-01-09 22:26:07)

^That was a bit of a crap post, almost like trying to regail strangers in bars with stories about one's slipped discs and hernias in the neck and back. As an apology here's a true tale, just one of my adventures in the oil and gas construction business.....

Back in the mid-Noughties, I was working on the experimental phase of Kashagan, which was the name of the biggest oil find in the last thirty years. There was more money, liquid MDMA, whores and coke than sense. Everyone was doing blow from the top to the bottom and even lowly technicians were earning 150-200K GBP a year, a lot of it tax free, if you had bothered to set up obscure companies in Northern Cyprus and transfers to Gibralter. One would have thought that such lucrative day rates would have an ensured an elite of the capable and a focus on operational excellence.  By a cruel twist of fate, the exact opposite happened, and the company was populated by rank mediocrities and dodgy Englishmen who were ex-heroin addicts, con artists and convicted meta-amphetamine pushers. Failing this, if you had a fake CV or had spent all your career on obscure projects in Thailand with references that could not be verified, guaranteed you a top position.

There was a certain M, a young Italian lad who was the son of a well regarded, and kick ass project manager in the higher INEpt group who had to be looked after. He was given a job as protege to the HR manager and all was going well.  The first time I met him was on the way to a party, and to impress me, he walked into an all night store and robbed a bottle of some S.American liquer.

He had managed to ingratiate himself with one and all, with all the girls clucking away at "our M this, our M that, oh what lovely chap." Needless to say I had him sussed immediately.

We all use to go around to a regular party night at someone who had bought a house in the center of the Hague. Loads of coke and E was being dropped. People use to sit around cross legged taking about their favourite colour whilst listening to some shite music.  I noticed things were starting to get weird, young M and the owner of the house had become blood brothers and young M would arrive and ask if he could change and wear his blood brother's clothes and would go upstairs and return with a tracksuit on and boast how good it felt wearing his mates clothes.

He once scored some coke for me and a mate, but it had obviously been cut with something, perhaps young M's lithium, because it soon transpired that young M was a complete nutcase, hiding under a medical condition known as bi-polar disorder. Soon after the coke incident, young M's girlfriend telephoned me and a few others, telling us to stop making M into a drug dealer.

Things started to get more and more weird and the more coke I did, the more focused on the absolute weirdness of it all. M started to boast that he was close to something big, something would make him famous and rich overnight.

Then one day, young M went missing, for several days, everyone was worried, except for me. He had last been seen by his neigbour who had watched him emerge from a taxi and set up a trampoline outside his house and spend the next two hours jumping up and down on one of the main streets in the Hague. He then tried to get the trampoline inside his door, but it wouldn't fit, so he left it outside to the bemusement of the local kids.

He contacted me and promised me a night in the local casino, I refused, but the same night he had contacted others from the local high class brothel with the promise of a real Roman orgy.

Eventually, they caught up with him and what a mission of self destruction he had been on. He had taken out two loans of 30 thousand Euros each and promptly spent it on a binge of two Smart cars, on the red in the casino, on a whole night in the local high class brothel with a dozen girls and had bought literally hundreds of iPhones and given them away to local prostitutes and strangers as part of his master plan as a latter day saint, in an attempt to usher in his 15 minutes of fame and fortune.  When the ambulance came, at least he could say he had had his fun.

A mere three months later, he was out and back working in HR. On one of his weekends out of the nut house he boasted that the male psychiatrist fancied him, not only physically, but his mind.  There was nothing really wrong with him, but he would indulge the fantasies of the pyschiatrist for a little while yet.

The story ends with M, now out in Atyrau, Kazakshstan, still taking lithium, still waiting for his moment of fame to arrive....

Last edited by 4F Hepcat (2010-01-12 14:23:19)

Last edited by Big Tony (2010-01-13 17:05:51)

No, I'm definitely not old Kav, if he is my doppelganger, I've not met him yet.  Where can I find his fine postings?