Emboldened by Two Pints of Bitter

At 3.30 I sat at my usual table in the Sun Tavern for my now customary two afternoon pints of Spitfire. As I finished my first pint a very attractive young man in his late-twenties arrived and seated himself at the bar. I had him down as a bit of a scallywag, 'rough around the edges' and down to earth. He knew the barmaid and he got into easy conversation with her about his unemployment situation.
"Well, if that job don't 'appen I always 'ave Plan B, or even Plan C.", he told her.
"Oh yeah?", she answered, "What's that, then?"
"Well, if I don't get that job, I can, (A), go back to my old job... Or, (B), I can go and work the streets as a male prostitute." At this they both broke into laughter at the ludicrousness of his proposal. He went on,
"But, of course, nobody would ever pay me nuffink for me body, would they?"
Emboldened by my second pint of bitter, I butted in with, "On the contrary!", and waved a £50 note in the air. They both laughed at this, but I noticed that he became a little sheepish when, a little later, he had to walk past my table to go to the Gents.


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