Keeping it real

He rampaged his way through Europe, quaffing pilsners, tipping goulash down his gullet, ploughing sweet strange and looking for opportunities to chip bits off old gargoyles. The only gargoyle who really came within reach, though, was alive, female and down a dark alley in the newer part of Dubrovnik, and she was looking for seventy quid. Thirty would’ve been generous. Thanks but no thanks, dragana!

The art of indecision

He could not decide which was the greater problem, his flatulence or his crapulence. Rather than be paralysed by the dilemma, he resolved to minimise both, or rather to do the exact opposite, grunting coarsely from his anal pipe and guzzling Kestrel as he waited for the moment when he was supposed to hand over the rings, which he had probably lost anyway.

A woman scorned

So intense was her hatred for him that she was prepared to sacrifice her own life, sprinting headlong and rugby tackling him, his drink and another unfortunate lady over the edge and down for a good eight seconds before they both splattered satisfyingly on the concrete while the other lady devastated a Lamborghini and the drink smashed all over a Reliant Robin.

Hearded bipsters

Sarah was into bearded hipsters (or bearded non-hipsters at a push). Carly loved athletic guys, being into fitness herself. Rose liked men with a bit of a paunch ; she found washboard stomachs positively off-putting. But Kelly was somewhat harder to please, finding that the only thing that really soaked her knickers was the sight of a Victorian strongman, and only if he had the classic moustache and was lifting old-fashioned barbells.