Friday, November 10, 2006

Spouse Sparrow talks about: Old homeless woman sex

Years ago, when I was a manager in a McDonald's restaurant in Belfast city centre, I locked the place up at about 4 am and proceeded to walk the mile home. It's how I would unwind after a night of telling teenagers what to do and stopping drunk customers from fighting, and throwing the odd wino out.

I was passing by a phone box when I saw one of the local tramps that infest the city. She was lying in the bottom of the phone box with her arm outstretched like a wounded soldier cut down by machine gun fire, "Help me Sarge, don't leave me here to die!" No she didn't say that, you gift. She wasn't a young hot wino (strange you don't see any of them), she was anywhere from 50 to 70 and was minging. I didn't want to touch her but I'm a soft touch, I'm a first aider also, so I thought she might be injured.

She communicated in gruffs as if she had been raised by wolves, alcoholic wolves. She muttered something about a bad leg and I helped her up. There was nothing wrong with her grip, it held onto my arm like a vice, and I made a mental note to burn the clothes I was wearing.

I decided to walk my hygienically challenged friend to her home, hoping it wasn't far, as it was on my way. The only problem was we looked like a courting couple, and I was so glad no one was about. Well, until the milkman that delivers to McDonald's saw me while he was doing his rounds. I could just imagine the conversation he would have with the opening manager. I looked down in an attempt to be invisible and hoped to work more nightshifts for a while so I wouldn't have to see him in the mornings.

It took what seemed like an eternity to reach the row of houses Mrs Rif Raf claimed to live in, she pushed open a door of what looked like a vacant house. Total darkness inside, the smell of piss was in the air, and I suddenly felt like the fly in a spider's web. In a second, as she pulled me towards the dark, I remembered my army training and rolled my arm breaking her Vulcan grip. She looked at her hand dumbfounded as if she was thinking, "Hey, that never happened before." I quickly said, "Well, goodnight" and walked off at speed.

The moral of this story? Don't help anyone because they will just want to eat your brains (or worse) in an abandoned house. No, you'll not see this tale in Aesop's fables.

Spouse Sparrow

11 comments:

Anonymous said...

When I was 11, I was cornered by a pedophile wino on a railway line. Sick cunt. Luckily all I had to do was suck him off and he let me go*.

I can't imagine how many other kids he must've done real damage to though.





*not really. It was just a handjob.

fatmammycat said...

A darling good friend of mine claims 'all people show be viewed as cunts until they prove otherwise.' This seems to be very good advice.

Anonymous said...

Such an act of kindness Mr Sparrow, yet you shunned her advances......Sounds like the poor woman only wanted to show her gratitude. You sound like a real gentleman though, as to take advantage in such a position would have been very wrong, not to mention possibly life threatening.

PI said...

It's sad but one does get harder with age. In my thirties I gave a lift to a woman late at night who turned out to be mentally challenged and ended up driving her twenty miles away from my home because I hadn't the heart to drop her. Now I don't think I would give anyone I didn't know a lift.
Mentally challenged or no she really conned me by pretending she only needed to go as far as i was going.

Spouse Sparrow said...

Kav -- That was you? It's me; Paddy the Pedo! How are you doing? To be honest, the way you dressed back then.... Well, you were asking for it.

FMC -- That's also my view; Your friend is very wise. I'm the product of being let down once too many times.

Auntie Pauline -- I'm a soft touch. If I had walked past her I would have tormented myself forever. Being as hideous as she was I really didn't need her "gratitude."

Pat -- I am getting softer as I age, but less trusting of people. Those of integrity are hard to find.

Fat Sparrow said...

Pat -- I had an experience like that with an "old dear".... "The Cautionary Tale of the Old Bat."

Foot Eater said...

If you don't mind, FS, I'm going to print that off and read it to any children I might have. I might even dress up like the wino for added effect.

Haven't been commenting, by the way, because Blogger wouldn't let me.

Fat Sparrow said...

Footie -- I'm sure Spouse Sparrow won't mind, as long as it will save some other youngster from the horror of becoming a McDonald's manager.

Fucking Blogger. Here I was thinking, "Beeeotch, where's my comments?!" I pardon you.

PI said...

Fat spsrrow: I read about the old bat and tears are coursing down my cheeks. (Laughter not sadness) Trouble is my memory relates and empathises with you but part of me is leaning towards the old bat! Maybe it's the two glasss of champagne I have quaffed!

Anonymous said...

Yeah. We're not talking about a paedo here are we? We're talking about someone who likes people like me:' a gerontophile.

Talking of which, I fucking hate the word paedophile. This was a word invented by perverts about 25 years ago to justify what they do. Literal translation from the old Greek, paedophile: one who loves children.

I want to start a campaign to call these cunts paedophobes.

Fat Sparrow said...

Pat -- I could have handled the Old Bat a lot better with two glasses of champagne in me.

Bock -- I want to start a campaign to have them euthanized and called "dead assholes." Oh, and cutting off their nads and making them eat said nads before they cark it, that would be an excellent plan too. Fuck trying to rehabilitate them; the planet is crowded enough with people who deserve a chance. Off them and move on.

Did I mention I don't like kiddie fiddlers?