War stories
How does a French woman hold her liquor? By the hair or the ears…
Oh Harry! Ruth blushed, can’t take you anywhere!
Harry loved a stir. There was no political correctness in his house. What a load of s**t, he’d say about the matter. First you’ve got dames running a country and now you can’t talk about queers either? f**k me! I remember when the only reason you wouldn’t say f**k me was on ship. And that’s cos there was always some old poof who would. Be playing your pink piccolo before you could get a piss out.
John cracked up at this. He loved lunches with Harry. Dirty Harry he’d call him after his idol, Clint Eastwood. Harry had done his war stint in the navy as a stoker and always had a yarn to tell. Like Harry, the stories got larger every year too.
Grandpa
