I remember Stinky a tall cadaverous looking chap with a profound limp in his vocabulary.
We bedded at Cambridge together,he had a habit of wanking under a copy of Country life.
Never saw him after Girton College, just sort of went our separate ways, at Winchester together you know.
Some years later, I am sitting in the Dunlop Club having a snifter when who should walk in?
Dear old Stinky, dressed in a nice tweed suit although the skirt looked a bit short.
I called him over and invited him to lunch, do you know, the fellow said I should address him as Sally, I could not believe it; "But you're Stinky old chap" I replied. "Not anymore" he said;"I have changed my sex I am now a woman".
Never, I told him, even with that wig and those very moderate clothes you are still old Stinkey. Well, the fellow got up, pulled up his skirt
dropped his draws and shows me a front bum. I was amazed, it looked so real, even had hair.
After a bit of a dressing down from the Chief Steward, we retired to the lounge.
I put my best foot forward and daringly asked him how much the new chuff had cost him.
When he told me, I nearly choked on my Armagnac. Twenty thousand pounds was his reply.
Didn't want to upset the chap but I did point he had no melons to speak of.
Well, you could have heard a Nun break wind it went so quiet I thought I had offended him.
Nothing of it, the chap starts wailing like a rent boy on his first night about how he did not
Have enough lolly to get the top locker sorted and could I lend him a few quid for the op.
I didn't really know the man that well, I bummed him a few times at boarding school but that was out of boredom not out of affection it's what one did to a ginger that was on a Scholarship, made them feel wanted, one of us, not a snivelling working class oily rag.
I wrote the cheque out, of course I did, he was on the square you see, couldn't refuse.
