My full name is John-Christian, though Christie is on my birth certificate and i have been denied a middle name. It haunts me to this day. Through sympathy or the zenith of stupidity, during the summer that just was, my friends tried to get the nickname "JCguns" off the ground. Needless to say it suffered the Hindenburg Effect.I'm from Bembridge, a small village on the Isle of Wight. I am a walking, talking stereotype.
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"it is an event sociologique"Bembridge -So welcome to this labyrinth
Of moral destitution,
Liquor and debauchery,
Some male prostitution.Enter at your peril,
No Bowie as your guide,
Feel free to judge us if you will,
We have nothing to hide.Nazis relocate to Warners,
John Virgo promptly follows.
For me I find the pockets,
Would sooner spit than swallow.Blackadder boozing
And Annika Rice,
Took Rich two weeks to find out
He didn’t have lice.One-handed pull ups
Leave dents in the floor,
Matching those in my ego,
Throwing bottles a cure.With hedges for hurdles,
Dan lost in a bush.
The first of the summer,
Count Vicki at a push.In a hot tub in Bembridge,
A bubbling sausage stew.
Now honestly Ollie,
“Who throws their shoe?â€Rich and Sophia,
Whose plainness precedes her,
Boyfriend and girlfriend?
Well never say never.Barbeque stalkers
The minge of Toms missus,
While we sat oblivious,
Sat staring right at us.“Stella†Rich shows Elina
The back of his hand.
A clash of the titans,
Nose to nose giants stand.There’s collateral damage,
Sophie gets in the way,
But all is forgotten
Come sober light of day.Waiting for Dans phantom fatty,
Christies consistent loosing
Now in the same breath as branding,
Comes internal bruising.Jump from poles in the Solent,
Maybe weak immigration?
A lung full of water
Unwanted hydration.The Andy of Lockheart
Is a very lucky man,
As Sophie has two fannies,
That’s one for each hand.Shanons friends shining for Richard
Who couldn’t stand to be near her.
Disconcerting for Daniel,
His new girl’s a feeder.The exotic Elina,
Bens Bulgarian wet dream.
Downstairs an audience
Heard a chorus of screams.Taking his mind off Andrea
With a walk in the woods,
Call it lust-fuelled adventure
Or just that he could.In Cowes for fights and fireworks,
Bar queues ten people deep.
Females forcing the conclusion-
The best things from Wales are sheep.In the case of Gemma Spinx,
As a way to pierce the silence,
Dan does what only Dan does best –
And resorts to mindless violence.At first it seemed to do the trick
But he’s too proud to be persistent.
Like Gingers personality,
The “massage†was non-existent.“Warts and all†Daniel,
Faced the deadly concoction
Of bad aids and boyfriends
But won’t let it stop him.The pub heaving with heathens
And Hugh Grant impostors
So swift to say sorry
After spilling your Fosters.A lynch mob after Ollie,
Stoic Ben will take the fall.
With three fences to choose from
Assaults a pebble dashed wall.With Ollie in hiding
Within a three hour void,
The old bill in his bedroom,
Ben’s more than annoyed.With several eyewitnesses
Seeing “blood on his handsâ€,
How there’s no cuts or bruising
We can’t understand.St Helens and pikeys,
Sampling ale at the Vine
That’s flavoured with poison,
Resulting tumours benign.Dan’s a catalyst for chaos,
A social lubrication.
A laugh a minute guaranteed,
Party liaison his vocation.Ellen, Dawn and Nancy,
Dans oestrogen trio,
Making him feel feminine
But making up for Rio.Dawn sets her sights for Benjamin,
Dan sets his sights for Nancy.
Despite the talent deficit,
Ellen took Christies fancy.Go to Steve’s shed mate?
I’d rather go blind.
Fultons and females
Was a much better find.Sampling the whisky
The slow gin and rum,
Just don’t touch the Uzo
Ferries will rape your bum.Consider this a disclaimer
For my being a bit blunt.
But Chicago Rock is full of,
Walking, talking cunts.The Sandhurst leaving party,
Strangely undersubscribed.
One in three people present,
Poor Steven had to bribe.The mud, the blood, the blisters,
The proper river rowing.
An epic voyage down the Yar
With only the cows knowing –
That those they tried to segregate,
The men, the myths, the legends,
Would soon be part of history
And heroes among humans.Bender at the Bestival,
His budget tent a haven
For daytime sex and laughing gas,
All types of misbehavin’.For “ring master†Daniel,
It’s a not too sober story
Of involuntary chastity,
And grossly swollen testes.
Quite the opposite for Benjamin,
Encyclopaedic sexual tales,
He retells in vivid detail
That would turn a Negro pale.
So what of Rich and Christie?
The former a conundrum,
A puzzle an enigma,
The truth hard to discover.
So John-Christian is the author
And mayhem is his muse,
Hyperbole is contraband.
The truth is overdue.So to come to some conclusion
At the end of this adventure,
I think it’s safe to say my friends,
It’s been a summer to remember.
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