Another glimpse. Post-match at Port Street Beer House
The fart cloud is brewing again. Burger van snacks and tasteless, gassy lagers fermenting to awful levels. You can almost TASTE the stench. Experience tells me that from behind the bar, its getting too much, they can barely breathe back there. Or hear. Noise levels are through the roof. These people are ELATED they must be heard. They found reason for celebration and they’re letting everyone know about it. I’m in on the celebration, but I squirm at the obnoxiousness. Maybe these jeans are too tight, they smooth my crotch over too much, my cock is barely swinging at all.
(Image by Richard Manders/Man Trout Ink. Check out his blog. He’s a fucking genius).