Dead bodies make great beer

Written by nigmuncher

Friday, 16 October 2009

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image for Dead bodies make great beer
Offended tribal chief and 'missus'leave in disgust

A few years ago I was working offshore in Nigeria, and after a long drive through the bush. During which some nice gentlemen carrying Uzis kindly invited us to sit for a couple of hours under a palm tree while they checked our paperwork, just to make sure some unscrupulous rougues didn't managed to find a reason to fleece us.

Finally, after a 24hr drive, I checked into the Lagos Hilton. A pleasant enough dump with prostitutes of both gender on tap, and a constant supply of Legionaires disease and Botulism.

I stretched out in my room and called room service for a few bottles of 'Star Beer'

Now, let me tell you something about 'Star Beer'. It is made with Formaldahyde (embalming fluid, which causes hallucinations and psychosis) and is made from water produced using boreholes sunk through the middle of Lagos's largest cemetary, hence producing water tainted by the fluids leaked into the water table by decomposing Nigerians....You guessed it....more Formaldahyde.

One bottle of this lethal brew gets you pissed as arseholes and gives you probably the worst hangover in the history of....well....hangovers.

I drank about 5 bottles one after the other and was completely off my face.

It is hot in Nigeria and the humidity hovers between 100% and 100% so I thought it would be a great idea to disrobe completely. Beer, as we all know enhances the need for food, so I got on to room service and ordered a club sandwich. Have you ever noticed that? Room service and club sandwiches go hand in glove.

I smoked at the time. Not at home, but when I went to Nigeria. The stress and boredom does that to you. I lit a fag and waited for the knock at the door. About three hours later the sandwich arrived. I answered the knock at the door and was confronted by a little local guy with a silver tray who looked a little nonplussed to be confronted by a mad eyed, completely naked, balding white guy, wreathed in smoke with a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.

"YES?.....WHAT?" I yelled at him. At which, he quickly put down the tray in the middle of the corridor and f***d off, post haste.

Inhibitions shot to shit, I stepped out into the corridor just as a tribal chief and his good wife came round the corner. They were both dressed in the full regalia, and looked stately, proud and fabulous I stood there with my knob hanging out and looked like an idiot.

"Evening." I slurred, picked up my tray and fell backwards into the room.

I felt crap the following morning, and couldn't understand why the girls behind reception kept giggling at me.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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