Pussy Calories

The inexorable march of the Southern Grease ball has reached Nottingham, let me explain I have no issues with Southern people, not grease ball salesmen, but put the two together in an urban sandwhich shop in Nottingham City and you have a receipe for laughs.  And hell did I have issues not laughing at these three guys behind me in the queue.

First they were high-fiving about how pumped up they were about the gym the night before, and they were sucking each others cock about how much they'd sold today, then the third was commiserating about his lass at home opening his mail... "She put her mail down and started opening hers, faaackin' hell, I thought she'd be abowt to find aaaht how much I owe the tax man!"

You could have sliced his accent off, thrown it in to the window and known the direction to Essex, like a fucking Ender Pearl in Minecraft!

Anyway, we shuffle along, shuffle along, shuffle along, and they're going through the menu, and this is where they introduced me to a new phase...

"What you 'avin'?"

"Ah, er yeah thinking about the track tonight, might have the Turkey, just salad like you know"

"Just Turkey?"

Here it comes...

"Just Turkey?  That's Pussy Calories"....

Pussy Calories, yes the eternal pissing match of male ego has now focussed on the contents of a sandwhich.  "Just Turkey? That's Pussy Calories"...

And so they start to escalate what they're having, "I'll have chese on mine then, just one slice!"

"Shit, I'll have grated cheddar on mine and just burn it off on the weights"

"Right, well I'll have an Italian BLT"

"Hurrhurr, well I'll have a faackin' meatball sub, end of, right there!"

And they were bulling each other up!  They were like playing the old school yard "My <insert inflective> and beat your <insert inflective>" game over a sandwhich.  Fucking hilarious on so many levels, lets just hope that whoever these three knuckle heads are with don't breed with them.