The Most Beautiful Woman In The World.

It was two weeks ago that I had agreed to the lads night out. Then I was in the mood .

" So we come to the last pub on the crawl and I give my thanks to God and Allah. I'm getting to old for it. To be honest I'm way past the point of. I am. It's just hard to admit it. Yes that's right, Punk is dead! But then again the rest of the 'lads' haven't caught on yet either.
Anyway; the lads have sprawled themselves around a table and when I come back from ordering the drinks I'm not surprised to to find that the subject has turned back to women. I sit down opposite Dave. He's a huge man with pock marked skin and long straggly hair. I don't remember him saying a word the whole evening.
We are a sad bunch of 40 plussers who have lucked out for the past few hours with our corny lines and bravado.
" The most beautiful woman who ever lived", I hear, as I take my first sip of my fifth whisky. And that after all those pints.
" Madonna!", says Ian, 44, divorced, broken nose and with half his teeth missing. " Mature and wild sexy."
" Good choice " says Steve with half closed eyes, " but I fink...." he starts to drool, " Chritine Agua...." God he's pissed, " Bonnie.....Lira..". He starts to fall asleep in the middle of his unfathomable sentence.We poke him with force.
" Who Steve "?
" Crisheen Agleerrrrr" and he promptly falls off his stool. It's late so we don't bother to pick him up.We just smile at each other.
" Susan Sarronden" says Jamie. Almost 60, thick rimmed glasses and a beer belly like Kilimanjaro. We all smile at him sympathetically. He is the oldest of the bunch after all. When last orders are called Shane calls out , " A pint and a Scotch all around. Except for Steve." He's still on the ground.
Dave downs half his pint and then his whisky. He still says nothing.
" Marylin Monroe ", says Dean as he stands up. He gulps his whisky down and shoves his pint towards Ian. " And with that thought I shall go home to my lovely wife. If I can find a taxi at this time of night and if she will let me in." He stumbles out the door.
There's only six of us left.
More whiskies turn up.
The barman's okay.
I stand up to go to the toilet and that's when the commotion starts. Glasses flying, blood on the bar, a woman screaming and the wailing of sirens. If I remember correctly. I could be wrong. It's been known to happen on more than one occasion."

And now I'm looking at Dave standing in the dock. And the prosecutor is saying, " The defendant didn't seem to resist the original arrest but as he was being lead to the police car he suddenly turned and head butted an officer. He then elbowed another officer on the jaw and yelled ..... " I've got three words for you fucking wankers. WENDY VAN DIJK." Then he fell backwards on to his head."

Dave can't remember a fucking thing and neither can I. He gets 250 hours community service. He doesn't understand what for. I wake up in my own bed thinking about Wendy Van Dijk and knowing I've had a stroke of luck.