“Hey asshole, do you know I fucked your missus before you did?”

He was motherless drunk and looking for a fight. I’d cheerfully have killed him but he was a lot bigger than me.

 He was a hell of a conversation stopper too. The other three couples on our table looked at me wondering how I was going to deal with the situation. Fortunately the band played on. Other couples were dancing on a crowded floor and no-one except our table seem to have heard. Oh yes. Some people from adjacent tables turned in their chairs in expectation of entertainment.

There was a girl pulling at his arm. She looked distressed.  “Roger, come away,” she kept saying.

The drunk shook her off and she fell. I think she ran off at that point which was probably the best thing she could have done.

“Then you must be Roger,” I said. “You’re the one with the tiny prick.”

There were titters of laughter from the girls at that.  It didn’t do anything to improve his mood.

“Isn’t that right? You’re the one girls call Silly Willie ’cos it’s too small for them to feel.”

More laughter put Roger on the defensive.  “It ain’t small.”

“Don’t worry Pencil Prick. We won’t tell anyone.  Your secret is safe with us.”

“But it ain’t small.  It’s normal.” He was displaying all the befuddled confusion of the drunken mind

“My missus wouldn’t lie.  She told me about you.  She said she couldn’t even feel it in her. We had a good laugh about it but it’s quite sad really.”

Behind Roger I could see three huge bouncers making their way to our table. Everyone else was concentrating on me and the drunk.

“I tell you it ain’t small.”  He was starting to get aggressive again.

“Then prove it. Lay your little willie out on the table for all to see.”

He wasn’t quite drunk enough to fall for it.  Then one of the girls started on him.  “Yeah come on Roger. I’ve never seen a tiny one before.”  The other girls picked it up, urging him on.

Even the girls from the next tables got in on it.  It was quite wicked of them.

He unzipped and put his normal sized chopper out on the table for all to see. One of the girls got to stroke it before it was whipped away.  The three bouncers manhandled Roger out of the ball room. They didn’t even give him a chance to put it back in his pants.

Roger got the fight he wanted.  Outside the three bouncers, probably all on steroids, beat him senseless before the police arrived.  The police charged him with being drunk and disorderly as well as indecent exposure.  The girls from our table had to give evidence.  The magistrate gave him six months corrective servitude.

“Well, I think your old flame got what he deserves,” I remarked to my wife as we drove home from the court.

“My old flame? I’d never seen him before in my life.” She was highly indignant.

Roger got another court appearance, this time to give evidence against the bouncers for assault. Amongst other things a kick in the groin had cost him both his balls.