It started as a bad day,
The minute I awoke.
I knew it was the vodka;
Because, I had passed up on the coke.
I took the sheets and pulled them up,
Tight around my head,
Did you ever get one of them days?
When you wished that you were dead?
It was then I felt a movement,
And whispers on the phone,
Although my head was splitting
I thought, ‘ Christ I’m not alone’.
I chanced one bloodied beady eye,
With great effort turned my head;
And saw this gorgeous creature,
Lying next to me in bed.
Now everything was pounding,
Except my bloody dick,
Tried moving towards the edge –
I now was feeling sick.
Then, I heard her moving
And walk across the floor;
Going into the bathroom,
I thought ‘please don’t slam the door’.
Everything was just a blank,
Nothing came to mind,
Except that bolshi Russian,
Who kept singing ‘Auld Lang Syne’
(some of you might remember him)
I heard the toilet flushing,
The shower turned on full force;
If my head could just stop throbbing,
I might think of who she was.
Then, I remember people dancing,
Throwing glasses in the fire;
And that stripper from Belarus
That took off her whole attire.
I heard the handle turning,
I rose up in the bed a little more;
While the hammers playing in my head,
Said,’ please don’t slam the bloody door’.
Her long blond hair, a small black dress
Worn high up on her hips,
Although my eyes were groggy
I could see she had great tits.
‘You English, you are nothing!’
She gestured with her hand (V),
‘You cannot fuck or anything!’
‘You have just a little man!’ (>)
With one final degrading remark,
She tossed her head once more,
But by now, I was really hoping
That she would slam the door.
I lay there for a moment
Then started laughing fits;
This day might still turn out ok,
She thinks I’m a bloody Brit.