Shark Bite

Preying upon the drunk and recently emancipated is an art form. It takes time (closing time is preferable), foresight (a packet of 3), and much lengthy assimilation (like the vital information that Black Label is on special). We sharks have come to feel that ‘Victim’ is not a kind word. It forgets the consideration shown in shutting the door to the halls corridor before sex. Knickers off first. That’s patience. Several tours of sharking duty can but result in the recognition of various species of ‘sorts’. Here are the more prominent few:

Cashmere Cardy: If you attempt to remove this homely woolen trapping, expect tissues. Thousands of them. In sleeves, in pockets etc. Cashmere Cardy has a message, and that message is: “I am very highly strung and have a permanent cold. Go away unless you are Philip Schofield” If the cardy in question is of synthetic origin, you can presume militant veganism and add “Do you know how gelatine is made?” to her tirade.

Tight Neon Bustler: Effervescent and crude. Which is a good start. She’s inclined to stick crisps down your shirt or ice down the back of your neck. Comments like “this stuff in my hair, it gets everywhere don’t it” are probable, but do not be over-confident, as ‘Tight Neon Bustler’ has but two objects of admiration: Ian Wright and the knuckle-dragging, ogresome primate that gave you a friendly headlock on the way in – her childhood sweet heart ‘Stonny’.

Country Bumpkin’ Stirrup Wizard: Frumpy and of a distinctly ‘outdoor bound’ hue in the cheek. Fond of woods and barbed wire. By ‘Stirrup Wizard’, we mean the use of tussles of a partner’s hair to facilitate her jockey-like grip during the ‘hump’ (expect archaic euphemisms). Likes to be fed sugar-cubes and is into side-saddle gallop. Frisky and good to firm. Land Rover awaits at parental home in Hampshire.

Nose-Chain Philanthropist: Gothic yet sympathetic. Expect nihilist diatribe coupled with occasional fits of empathic tears. The way to ensnare this one is through misery. Make out like you are sufficiently retarded to see the merit in The Sisters Of Mercy. Rub-on tattoos may be of help here, but try to ensure they’re waterproof.

Facecake Designer Muffin: Drawn on eyebrows. Skin the consistency of fresh-out-of-the-oven sponge cake. Spends more money on perfume than food each week. A set of seam-weary synthetics, stapled together by a recently bumped-off Italian, hold all those buckles around her frame. She represents the sole international market for Bacardi Breezers.

After the spotter’s guide, a word on aftercare. Concoct an unfeasible reason for your immediate departure or her dawn ejection from your room. The more blatantly false your excuse is, the better. Fire drills often come in handy when shaking even the most resolute of bedfellows. Canesten and Alka Seltzer are also ideal to soothe those irritated areas.

Live to hunt only. Let a thick skin hide the belly; full of the detritus the open-mouthed swallow in warm water. Bear missing teeth: a standard by which to denote profit and loss. Sharks have mapped the oceans and are too fast for the small fry. Our jaws are around your legs. We only want a bite. But gnaw the fissure sealing off the same teeth asleep, deep in an cold bed.

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