I love immigrants

I was at Salsa on Friday and noticed an unusual increase in the number of attendees and the number of young, hot, fuckable women. One look around them told me they weren’t British:

1. No awful clothes. Not much flesh on display.
2. No pads of fat hanging down over the elbows from the triceps.
3. No orange legs with those fuck-awful Roman legionnaire style sandals. No muffin tops.
4. Not drunk.
5. At something character building and social (Salsa) on a Friday  night rather than in bar whoring themselves for validation.
6. Can smile, look you in the eye and hold a conversation.

One or two had dusky meditteranean men with them who had a distinct air of panic and jealous protectivity about them. Could their brains be doing a quick mental sum:

“I am in The Land of the Fat. My girlfriend is hot and thin…… Shit! She mine!”

 

I did some inquiring. It’s Summer School! Turns out the local universities have all started their “pre-sessional” English courses which last 3 months over the summer. Walking in town the next day I notice a drastic increase in the number of totty, even spotting some sweetly rapable Japanese girls carrying stacks of clothes taller than themselves in Primark.

YES!!! YES YES YES!!

Foreign totty has been imported! Hallelujah! Are we going to see “Daygame Newcastle”? Is it possible? I’m damn well going to try. And obviously 100% foreign. Young, fun, fit, friendly foreign girls… come over here to study the Engrish. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a rittle summer fling with a true English gentlemen? We can but try.