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“Ah, Paris,” said William Shakespeare, pronouncing it in the French way.

“Shall we head out? See what this city’s got to offer?” said Sice Rowbottom from the Boo Radleys.

“Let’s,” said Shakespeare, rising from his seat.

The pair walked out of their shared hotel room into the corridor. A few paces down the hall, a man at the opposite end caught Shakespeare’s eye.

“That’s not… That’s not… No, surely not,” said the bard.

“I think it is,” said Sice, brightly, as the man in question stepped into the lift. “It’s Chris Rea.”

“No,” said Shakespeare with disbelief. He hunched down a touch and quickened his pace. “Chris Rea. Chris fucking Rea.”

“What’s the matter?” said Sice, jogging for a couple of steps to catch up. He grabbed Shakespeare’s ludicrously puffy sleeve and attempted to gain his attention.

Shakespeare shrugged him off. “Chris fucking Rea,” he said in a venomous voice. He went to start running, but Sice sensed danger and grabbed him with both arms.

“Get the fuck off me,” said Shakespeare, wriggling.

“Stop. What’s the matter with you?” said Sice. The lift pinged and the doors closed. Rea had gone.

Sice released Shakespeare, who whirled round. His face betrayed his rage. “Do you think he’s got bigger balls than me?” he demanded.

Sice was taken aback. “What? I don’t know. What the hell are you asking that for?”

Shakespeare produced a knife from inside his jerkin. Grabbing Sice by the throat and raising the knife to his neck, Shakespeare said: “Who’s got the bigger balls, Sice from the Boo Radleys?”

“What?” said Sice, frightened and confused.

“Whose balls are bigger, Sice from the Boo Radleys? Whose balls are bigger? Mine or Chris Rea’s?” Shakespeare’s grip tightened and the knife pressed into the Britpop singer’s flesh.

“Yours. Yours,” spluttered Sice.

Shakespeare’s grip on Sice’s throat loosened slightly. “Well they aren’t,” said the bard, sadly. “Chris Rea’s balls are bigger. Chris Rea has the bigger balls.”

Shakespeare released Sice and dropped to his knees. The knife fell from his hand and as he stared at the floor, a single tear hit the carpet.

Sice remained frozen. Shakespeare spoke again. “Chris Rea’s balls are bigger than mine,” he said and his silent crying suddenly became audible.

Huge sobs emanated from the deflated playwright. “Chris Rea’s balls are bigger than mine,” he wailed again.

As the miserable noise reached a crescendo, Sice felt he should speak. “I don’t even see how you can know that,” he said.

Shakespeare ignored him. He had reached the point at which the pain remained, but the tears had dried up. He tried to force out just a little more, the effort causing his torso to convulse.

Having failed, he looked up and staring straight into Sice’s eyes, he said: “His scrotum is tighter than mine too, Sice from the Boo Radleys.”

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Posted by Alex On August - 2 - 2011

5 Responses to “The Hotel Champs Elysées Plaza in Paris with Sice Rowbottom from the Boo Radleys”

  1. Bonobo the Clown says:

    Sice Rowbottom from the Boo Radleys shows very little sympathy regarding the small size of another man’s testicles.

    And I should know.

  2. D Charlton says:

    Chris Rea does have big balls.

    And I should know.

  3. Alex says:

    There is a good reason why D Charlton knows that Chris Rea does have big balls.

    And I should know.

  4. Kevin Miles says:

    I once got teabagged by Chris Rea. It was like a sack full of a thousand ferrets rested on my head.

  5. Benny says:

    That is truly heartbreaking. Poor Shakespeare.

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