A young clubber has reportedly plead ignorance as to why a €50 note that his mother found in his jeans was rolled up into a straw.
19-year-old Garry St. John claims that while he was sprawled across his bed comatose in nothing but a t-shirt and under the influence of several wanks and a valium his mother tidied his room and made the discovery of the €50 note rolled up.
“She stuck her toe in my arse to jostle me awake but, cause I’d a head full of blueys, it took a bit of prodding,” explained Garry. “Eventually, after sleepily telling her to fuck off several times, I came to full wakefulness and found her stooping over me, holding out a rolled up €50 and asking what was I doing with it.”
Garry claims that his mother is “dog wide” to what he does on weekends but, being a mother, is willing to turn a blind eye to most stuff or accept whatever lie he can come up with so that she doesn’t have to face the truth.
“First, I told her it wasn’t mine and I hadn’t seen it before,” explained Garry. “She then said that she found it in my jeans so I told her the jeans were my mate Brian’s and that the rolled up note must have been his.”
“I thought she’d buy that, shifting as it does the blame from me to someone who didn’t come out of her, but she pointed out that it was her who bought me the jeans for Christmas and that Brian was about four stone heavier than me,” he continued. “So I said, oh right, maybe it is mine. I don’t know how it got rolled up like that though, first I’m seeing of it.”
Garry says that with that evasion the scene reached a pivotal moment of tension during which he noticed flecks of crusted white powder on the rim of the note which forced him to blurt out several excuses at once.
“Maybe whatever way I was rolling around in my sleep made the note roll up into a perfect cylinder in my pocket,” he suggested. “Or, while drunk, maybe I thought it was a skin and tried to make a cigarette with it, yeah I’m sure it’s one of them.”
At that point, according to Garry, his mother seemed to accept the plausibility of the second excuse, tutted and left the room without a word.
“I thought I’d well gotten away with it,” concluded Garry. “It was only when I went into the jacks later that day that I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and was met with the sight of a nose that looked like it’d had been dragged through a soggy, talcum powdered arse crack which had now found a home in all its white glory on my nostrils.”
“I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to tell me Mum caused this,” he added.
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