29th July, 2012: Ghetto Soul

Spat by Soulgirl at 10:55 pm | Comment here! Comment (0)

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I was going to Radcliffe, then I wasn’t going anywhere and then I changed my mind again and ended up sharing a night of laughter at Ghetto Soul in Southampton.

Bearsy & Marie kindly offered me their sofa so I arrived in good time to share pre-event laughs and chilled Cava in the late afternoon sun. Before we’d even left for the gig I’d nearly wet myself laughing at his ‘guff’ problem. Poor old Marie, what she has to put up with.

I told them the tale of the disgusting ‘chicken korma’ farter all those years ago at Bisley, that managed to make the whole room move in and out like a Mexican wave. The culprit was revealed… it was Bearsy and he remembered it!

Inside the house Paul was playing records and they have a lovely wooden floor so I had a wee dance in the socks. Before I knew it Max, their doggy, was dry humping my leg. I was taken by surprise and a little worried that the only cock I have been offered in years was from a fucking dog! I held his paws and defiantly advised that what he was suggesting was actually illegal and to ‘leave it’. Anyway, Paul came in the room, laughed, and found his own leg a testing ground for this ball-less pooch.

Our taxi ride in was hilarious and we had the driver in stitches. There was talk of Bearsy being naked in many places and something about a cake. Apparently there was going to be cake at this event so I impertinently advised if anyone offered me a cup cake they’d have it shoved up their fucking hoop!

The venue was ‘intimate’ but without character. Alfie kicked off proceedings with some good records and I familiarised myself with the table arrangements/bar/smoking staircase.

Knowing 95% of attendees, unfortunately there weren’t many of us – 40 tops, made it more of a private party atmosphere than a soul night but the laughter continued throughout the entire evening.

Smithers and Topping delivered the best music for me and my foof got a bit of a hoof on the dance floor although nowhere near as much as I usually enjoy. However, having pre-event Cava and in-event Sol I was able to talk enough crap to make peoples ears drop off. Before I knew it the lights went up and it was home time.

Thankfully Adam span Memory Of A Dream and that more than made up for any negative points making it all very much better.

We were offered a lift from a bloke who later admitted, back at the Bears, that he was the drummer from The Shamen. An impromptu rendition of Ebenezer Good rang out and further drinks were consumed. I even got to give My Proposal a good rimming.

After a couple of hours playing tunes and being stupid I collapsed onto the sofa bed in a drunken heap. The following morning I awoke to rain and a lovely hot cup of tea. Marie had kindly offered to whip us into Town as La Senza had a sale on and I needed some new slingshots. I thought it was probably a good idea to get myself measured properly again and stood in the changing room whilst the assistant measured under my boobies. I was hoping for a little tit action for the cup size but alas, she just looked and them, said E, and left me stood there thinking WTF! I’m only 5 feet tall… that’s a bit top heavy

Anyway, it was a success; 6 bras and a bag full of pants found us returning to the house and stuffing our faces with a fried egg sandwich.

Thanks so much for your hospitality guys; I had a blast