Stickboy, two businessmen and a bar owner walk into a sports pub…
Beers, banter and the usual bullshit is how it goes for the first 30 minutes as all four catch up on what’s been going on.
Mr Biz #1 is distracted by a pair of massive melons passing on the street and nudges Stickboy to check out the gigantic jugs. Titty talk ensues and lasts a good ten minutes as other beautiful breasticles passing are admired.
When the pair return to the group phones are out with Mr Biz #2 and the bar owner discussing trading prices of currencies, the closing price of gold and other such stupidity that should have been left at the office.
Refresh, refresh, refresh for the latest GDP-EUR price.
“I’m gonna sell soon”, says the bar owner.
Thinking he was talking about his stash of pounds he was sitting on Stickboy says, “Well, you sell up and get a round in with your profits”.
“No, not my currencies, I’m talking about my bars. I’m gonna sell up. All of them”.
Sensing a scoop Stickboy prods for more details.
“Yeah, I was watching National Geographic the other night and Igloos are the future”, says the bar owner.
Mr Biz #2 doesn’t bat an eyelid but Mr Biz #1 and Stickboy are stunned.
They both know the bar owner hasn’t had that much to drink tonight but his face is straight, not a smirk to be seen.
“So where are you building your village of igloos?”, Stickboy inquires.
“Bangkok” is the reply.
“Bangkok? The fuckers will melt before they are built”, responds Stickboy.
“No, these are 21st century igloos. They don’t melt in the heat”.
The four sit looking at each other for a few moments in silence taking in the plans of the bar owner.
“Jesus, look at the USD-GDP rate now”, shouts Mr Biz #2.
The bar owner returns to his phone while Stickboy and Mr Biz #1 turn back to face the street in search of more nice knockers.
For the next three hours igloos were never mentioned again.