SMIFFY's 30th

                                                                     (a true story)

My first ‘proper job’ was at the Valuation Office. Oh yes I sold my soul to the civil service. I worked at the Valuation Office for 8 years before being made redundant. The thing about the civil service is, it employs some very unusual characters. It is not the grey dreary environment you would expect…well it wasn’t at that time.

My best friend at the V.O. was a lad called Kev who was a quite a babe magnet. I was with Kev one night, in a club called Ronaldo’s, when a girl came up to him and asked him if he wanted to go outside, she did not acknowledge that I was even there, it was a common occurrence. Kev looked her up and down and told her he was talking to his friend and pointed at me. (Yes that’s right darling me the invisible man, hello!) She grimaced dismissively in my direction, looking me up and down in a very different way than Kev had done to her, she looked like she had seen a turd. After momentarily being put off her stride she turns back to Kev as bold as brass and says ‘Well it is your call, you can carry on your conversation with gorgeous here' pointing at me (i don't know why... i felt she was being disingenuous) 'but if it helps make your mind up I have no knickers on and I like the taste of spunk!’ Needless to say even though I consider myself a fairly interesting conversationalist, I did not get to continue my chitter-chatter with Kevin that evening.

 To be fair I would have done the same had i been in his position. 

It is quite odd that throughout my life I have had quite a few mates who fall into the category of babe magnet, sums up my luck really I was a magnet for babe magnets! To be fair though I have also had many friends who are just as unfortunate as me in the wooing game. One of those friends was a bald lad at the Valuation Office called Smiffy, Smiffy was one of those blokes who it seemed had  been forever bald  he went bald very early in life and it was hard to imagine he would have ever had hair, even during his school days you would have guessed a ‘Bobby Charlton’ was the only hair style he ever sported... However Smiffy played the main part in one of the funniest nights of my life.

As I mentioned Smiffy was not very successful with the ladies, so in the week leading up to his 30th birthday myself and Kev had a whip round at work and ordered a topless kiss-a-gram for Smiffy. I was very friendly with Chris the manager, at the time, of the legendary Wayward Frog a favourite watering hole for most of Peterborough’s, handsome and pretty, bright young things and I used to go there frequently too. After the ice-rink I definitely had some of my happiest times in The Frog. I had my first snog in The Frog with a woman called Maggie, it was quite lovely, far nicer than I had imagined snogging to be.It is embarrassing to admit but I was a very shy and prissy youth. Anyway these are stories for another day. I cleared it with Chris that we could have a kiss-a-gram in The Frog that Friday but we had to stay in the corner, after all topless women are fine and dandy but only in moderation. Me and Kev thought it would be hilarious to see Smiffy’s face when some bird got her baps out for him. However fate played a hand and a few days before the ‘event’ I bumped into my old mate Percy (the king of the babe magnets Perc got all the girls, no really ALL the girls..we had been born on the same day and had gone through school together other than that similarity were like Ying and Yang).

Percy asked me if I fancied going to the Hospital Club on the Friday as there were a couple of strippers on. Excitedly I said I would as I had never been to a strip show but then I remembered it was Smiffy’s birthday. Percy grinned. ‘That is fine’ he said. ‘Bring him along I will have a word with the manager and we will get Smiffy up on stage for the encore. ‘Fucking hell’ I said. ‘Can you do that?’ Perc went into his Jack-the-lad mode and assured me he could. I told Perc if he could manage that the night would go down in Valuation Office folklore. Ok not a huge statement but folklore is folklore even if it is only within the civil service.

When I got back to work I relayed my conversation, with Perc, to Kev. We then informed the rest of the office apart from Smiffy, obviously, about our plans for the coming Friday (maybe not the best choice of words there, but I am on a roll). I should explain that at the time myself and Kev had our own office, one of the reasons was that we were working on a council tax appeals project…the other was that we were seen as a quite unruly influence in the general office so the powers that be banished us to a room of our own. We were even allowed a radio, the decision to separate us from the office did not work that well as whenever people took a break they came to sit in our office, partake in ribald banter and listen to Simon Bates on Radio 1. 

In the days leading up to Smiffy’s birthday night out, we needed a revolving door. The lads who were coming on the night out kept popping their heads in to make sure they had heard right. Was Smiffy really going to be the unwitting star of a strip show? Perc, had been back in touch with me and had assured me it was all sorted and I passed on this news to my delighted colleagues. Some of the office womenfolk came in to express their concern, they felt a topless kiss-a-gram was good fun but to have Smiffy set up as the stooge in a live sex show was a step too far. Me and Kev tried to look concerned and take their views on board but as we were both rolling on the floor laughing I think the ladies doubted our sincerity! 

I have to be honest here if I thought Smiffy would hate it I would not have done it but I had a good idea he would actually enjoy it. I certainly wouldn’t have! and my view was shared by the majority. Those of us going out that Friday agreed that if the strippers should try to drag any of us up on stage we would, en masse, leave the building at a rate of knots!

Me and Kev spent so much of that week laughing, imagining what was in store for our follically challenged colleague. We were reduced to giggling wrecks when a girl called Di told us that she had heard of terrible things happening on these nights. ‘I have even heard of one bloke who had a lighted candle put up his arse.’ She told us seeming genuinely concerned. I assured her everything would be fine. Perc was in the fire brigade and some of his other firemen friends would also be there. 

Now, you know how it is, sometimes when you really look forward to a night out something goes wrong and the night can never quite live up to expectations. Well the night of Smiffy’s birthday was an exception to that rule.

On that fateful night of pure hilarity, our motley crew of civil servants of various ages and sizes arrived at The Wayward Frog. I had a chat with Chris (the manager) and assured her that we would be as discreet as a group of blokes can be when a girl gets her tits out. There were about 8 of us in total myself Kev and Smiffy. Then there was Paul, Martin, Phil, Mark and Scotney. Scotney was his surname it is funny isn’t it how some people are known by their surname, thankfully I was only ever Gaz or Gazza I would not have been too chuffed with Wrighty!

The night started well for me as Kev (the ladies man) went to wait outside the front for the kiss-a-gram lady to arrive but she turned up at the back Chris let me know where she was and so it was I who went to meet her. Me and a kiss-a-gram had a nice little chat, who would have thought it? And then I took her through and introduced her to Smiffy, his face lit up. 

‘Oh my god lads you are the best friends ever.’ 

The kiss-a-gram proceeded to release her fair sized knockers from the confines of her brassiere and it was at this point I realised Kev was still waiting out the front. I went and fetched him and when we got back to our friends, Smiffy was sat in the corner with a topless woman on his lap. He did seem quite fascinated by the breasts that were before him, he held them like you would expect an antique dealer to handle fine china, he was enthralled and he did not stop grinning. After about twenty minutes the buxom kiss-a-gram lady informed us that she had to go as she had an appointment at the Rugby Club. I was guessing she would be lucky if her assets were treated like fine porcelain in that environment. 

When she had left the loved up birthday boy could not thank us enough we were, according to him, the best friends a man could have. ‘This has been the best night ever’ he said. At that point we told him we had to move on as we were meeting up with Perc at the Hospital Club. 

Smiffy was not impressed when we arrived at the hospital club. ‘We left the Frog to come here!?’ he said. I told him to stop moaning and grab a seat and then added that there were a couple of strippers performing that evening. Smiffy could not conceal his delight and ran and grabbed a table at the front. I met up with Perc, Rocky and Jim. ‘Is it definitely sorted? I asked Perc. He grinned back of course it is he said. During the show it became apparent that Perc had been true to his word. As I stood at the bar I saw blokes chatting to the manager and he, in turn, was pointing to the back of Smiffy’s bald head and laughing. By the time the second stripper had completed her accomplished performance, everyone in the place bar Smiffy, knew that he was soon to be part of the show he had already been appreciating more than most.

So at the end of the night as the rather course comedian/compare, who had earlier in the evening rather unfairly described my friend Rocky as the cunt in the Hawaiian  shirt, returned to the stage we all knew what was about to happen.

The comedian began to speak… ‘So as you all know at the end of the night we usually get a bloke to come up on stage and join the girls for the finale. Well as it happens we have a bloke here tonight who is celebrating his 30th birthday.’ Smiffy started to look around all eyes were on him. The comedian continued. ‘Now this bloke does not usually have a lot of luck with the ladies but tonight that is going to change, he is the bald fella in the black shirt sat right at the front here.’ The comedian pointed at Smiffy who was pointing to his own chest mouthing ‘is it me, is it me?’

‘Yes it is you Smiffy’ bellowed the obnoxious comedian. ‘Now get your arse up on this stage.’

As I have stated before I think most people at this point would experience a degree of anxiety, I myself would have bolted for the door. Smiffy, however did neither of those things, Smiffy jumped from his chair punched the air and ran to the stage with his arms aloft and in doing so he won the crowd. The crowd were chanting ‘Smiffy, Smiffy, Smiffy’ the comedian sat Smiffy down on a seat at the front of the stage before calling the strippers back out. The comedian then shook Smiffy’s hand wished him luck and bid us all a goodnight before handing over to the two ladies.

Smiffy’s shirt was pulled from his body leaving him looking a little similar to the kiss-a-gram from the Frog only she had not been bald. The two strippers then removed their own tops Smiffy was now surrounded by tits and very large tits too it has to be said. The girls then produced a bottle of baby oil that they poured over their tits and over Smiffys head. They the stood either side of him and started battering his head with their heavy oiled up knockers, baby oil was flying everywhere the crowd cheered and Smiffy despite the onslaught punched the air with delight. Much to the amusement of those watching and the slight bemusement of the strippers.

So after the initial onslaught Smiffy did look somewhat bedraggled, what little hair he had was quite skew-wiff, thanks to the boob bashing he had taken moments earlier. The topless ladies now decided to up their games Smiffy’s shoes were removed…then his socks…then his belt…then his trousers. Jesus! Our work colleague was stood before us in only his underpants looking like a fat, pale, greasy Ghandi. It was a terrible sight and then it got worse… one of the young ladies pulled down his underpants before sitting him back down. While one of the women distracted Smiffy by removing the rest of her clothes the other stripper poured baby oil into his socks and set fire to his underpants. She danced around the stage waving the burning briefs like they were the spoils of war. She then handed the baby oil soaked socks back to her now naked friend. The tears were rolling down my face and Kev was having great difficulty in drinking his beer and was spitting it everywhere with each new humiliation that Smiffy endured.

The strippers then lay our naked friend on his back on the stage and one of them began to play with his penis, looking at it disdainfully she flicked it from side to side before spinning it round and round like a helicopter propeller. She then took the baby oiled soaked sock and gently tied it into a loose knot around Smiffys manhood while she tenderly stroked his belly. She then took the two ends of the sock and seemed to take great delight in pulling them tight, trapping Smiffys startled penis! Her actions caused his legs and body to spring up at the same time and he virtually smacked himself in the nose with his own knees! Oh how we laughed.

Smiffy was then rolled onto his front and a candle was produced. Di, had been right, the candle was placed between the cheeks of our, naked and battered, friends arse and set alight. Now I have seen some funny things in my life but the sight of that particular civil servant laying on the floor with a candle burning away between his buttocks is one of the funniest. The crowd broke into a chorus of Happy Birthday. I must add hear that Smiffy was still laughing and was making a grab for tit flesh at every opportunity.

The candle was eventually put out and at that point the dark haired stripper, had I not mentioned there was a blonde and a brunette. The dark haired stripper wandered over to Smiffy carrying his belt, she then turned him onto his back and placed the belt around his willy before pulling him to his feet. At this point something like the Birdie Song started playing and Smiffy was led around the stage by two naked dancing ladies who were leading him by a belt attached to his John Thomas! It was bizarre and hilarious in equal measure, then as suddenly as it had begun, the music stopped and the strippers abruptly left the stage no doubt sick of Smiffy’s groping and his refusal to be embarrassed. Smiffy was left on stage, alone and naked, with his own belt dangling dejectedly from his now disappointed penis. The Smiffy chant died down and a voice from the crowd enquired. ‘Don’t he get a blow job, they usually get a blow job?’

When it became apparent Smiffy would not be getting any oral delights he began to collect his clothes that were scattered willy-nilly about the stage. He pulled on his charred underpants that were little more than a waistband, he battled with his oiled socks and by the time he had put on his trousers and shirt most people had gone home.

Smiffy joined us and once again told us we were the best friends in the world adding that he would remember the night forever. As we walked home we stopped to get a burger and Smiffy was spotted by some of his new fans, a cry of "Smiffy Smiffy" began to echo in the night sky. Like I say one of the funniest nights of my life.

The Caging of George James eBook : Wright, Gary: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store