Party season is always in full swing around here, and this is where to come to have a butcher’s at all the big bashes and wotnot.
As I’ve been barred from most of these dos I don’t tend to get to get out much these days, so in my place I’ve got Calvin to send over a few fit women to shake their tic-tacs, mix things up and report back to me with all the gory details.
After all, how fuckin’ hard can it be to throw a good bash? Just invite some lookers, lay on the free booze and then sit back and watch the car crash. There’s always some drunk twat ends up getting caught in a lift with a moose and his trousers around his ankles.
Only catch is, the strumpets Calvin sends out may be quite tasty but they ain’t always the brightest crayons in the box. Can’t trust them as far as they can throw up after a couple of mojitos.
So, if you’ve got some juicy gossip of your own from one of these shindigs – just slap that Ask or Tell button and I’ll blab the news quicker than them 3am girls from the Sun.
-Bo DaDogg
