My old mate Dave built a lawnmower out of motorbike parts and I said to him "you know, if you swap the 'D' and 'v' around in your name and add 'r' it spells Vader" and he said "I've fuckin told you to stay the fuck out of my garden, and stop telling people we're mates". Ungrateful bastard, he didn't complain when I let his mom stay at my place so that he could get his end away with the woman from the post office.
One time he called me in the middle of the bloody night, apparently the woman suddenly came-on while they were at it so they had to wash the sheets afterwards. He wanted to ask his mom where the fabric conditioner was, so I took the message and said "Hang on, I'll see if I can wake her". Wasn't too tricky because she was on her hands and knees at the time chomping away at the old pork sword, I just needed to buy a few seconds to let her get her composure. I was as cool as cucumber of course.
A few days later I bumped into Dave at the pub and he was giving it the usual "how come you haven't got a girlfriend eh? what's the matter with you? you don't bat for the other side do you?" and all that, I just kept saying I was waiting for Miss Right and all that, I was thinking "'cos I'm getting free shags off your mom without all the whiney bitchy crap you have to put up with from that tart at the post office" she wanted to marry him but Dave was his own man, meaning he fancied himself more than he fancied her.
Eventually she ditched him and took up with Shane, the guy who did the karaoke on a Friday. It was shame, he on only knew "Blue Suede Shoes" and he could only do it with so much echo on the mike you couldn't tell if he was singing or having a fit. Dave was gutted but not as much his mom was. Me? I just moved on to the next town and the rock rolled on.
PS I'm in England again, going to Paris and Bangkok in a few days, I'll tell yer all about it later