andrewducker | The perfect story for a Friday night

Peter Crump told this story on Facebook, and it made me laugh. A lot. And I then I read it to Julie, who also laughed a lot. And so I present it to you.

C had a strange urge to go to Rhyl for a traditional seaside lunch on the sea-front. As you do in January. So I was waiting at the small counter for our cod and chips when a large gentleman stood next to me to place his order. The four fingers of his right hand had the word FUCK tattooed across them in uncompromising capitals. I wondered what was on his left hand. 'OFF!' perhaps? Or 'YOU!'? He ordered a large portion of chips, with grated cheese and gravy on top (cheese first, then gravy). As he reached out to retrieve his delicious entree, I saw his left hand was adorned, surprisingly, with the word PISS.

FUCK-PISS then.

Is that a thing?

For a moment I wanted to ask him if I could photograph his extraordinary tattoos, but then realised that the last thing I would see before I lost consciousness was the word FUCK. Or maybe PISS. So I left it.

If I ever worry about my employability, I just have to remember that somewhere out there is a potential employer interviewing someone who has the phrase FUCK-PISS tattooed on his hands, and I feel comforted.

And then, to top it off someone commented with "Maybe it's to remind him which hand to use."