A Girl Called Bob.

Some food for thought for my gentlemen readers: next time you're working your charming sex magic on some lucky lady in a club or at a party or maybe even a funeral, remember this - you're not just pulling her, you're pulling her friends as well. I had this the other night when I met a girl who goes by the slightly unusual name of Bob. I didn't find out about this until much later but Bob and her mates held an impromptu council of war, where I was vetted and my suitability assessed. Luckily for me, I was given the nod - I've got good teeth, apparently - but it could easily have gone the other way, and then where would I have been? If they've decided that you're no good then all the clever puns about biscuits (my one and only pulling tactic. I'd like to say it never fails but it does, often) in the world aren't going to save you. It ain't. Fuckin'. Happening.

So think on, lads. You may believe that you're making progress with that hot chick you've had your eye on but if you've wronged, neglected or in any way offended her mates then you're fucked. Or rather, you're not.

Bob's just a nickname, by the way. Still, it could make my next call to the parental homestead a tricky sell, as in:

Me: Ma, I've met a girl.
Ma: That's great news, Pete. What's her name?
Me: Bob.
(pause)
Ma: (slightly weepy) Is there anything you want to tell us, son? Because you know we'll always love you no matter what you do.

I don't need that kind of drama.