Sexy talk

I was sitting in the corner of the room, in a lap-dancing club, you know, that type of dodgey and cheap strip clubs who falsely claim themselves “gentlemen’s clubs”(nowadays “gentleman” tends to become an obsolete term anyway).

We’re all aware of the cliché of the “gentleman” who is courted by an army of blond bikinis, and we know very well what the game is all about: the “gentleman”(spelled l-o-s-e-r) thinks the blond bikini is after his looks or wits, when in fact the blond bikini (let’s call her B.B.) thinks his Visa is sexy enough for her bills.

There was this natural big breasted B.B. trying to make her living. The gentleman was into it as if everything was for good, as usual.

No, he didn’t want a lapdance, he just wanted everybody to acknowledge him as a pig who disagreed with the government.

And we all did, especially when the B.B. said: “You know, what, this is a lapdance club.Men come here to see tits and asses. Girls don’t want to hear you talking about politics, the financial crisis and the Lisbon. They just want to dance and they do it good. This is not a lapdancing club talk. You better go out if you feel like talking politics. But if you stay, you better pay a lapdance , see some tits and ass, drink a few beers and cry in the morning”

Another funny proof that this world is upside down and fake. In my perfect world a lap-dance club would only be for lap-dances, a pub would be for talking to the lads and drinking beer and so on.

People created society, society created rules….let’s say I could live with this.

But the most annoying part comes when the same people that created the rules break them.

This is the point when the chaos begins.

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