If Carlsburg Made Chat-Up Lines

Sat in Gibraltar, a little end-of-holiday grumpy, we decided to console ourselves with a spot of sunshine and a pint of shandy or two. CJ, Emma, Jenny and I were at a sunny table outside 'Ye Olde Rock' pub (no joke) trying to spot non-chav talent for Jenny to play with for her night All Alone in GBZ. I was sunning myself, hands behind my head, drinking in the last of the sunshine before the inevitable greyness of Britain.

Along came two older, pretty skanky looking guys (if I wanted to flatter them, I would call them lads) and one uttered the immortal words

"Are you trying to burn your armpits, love?"

Nice.