Expat Retirees Swingers Club

Sweltering sunshine can bring out strange things in people, not least the British expats retired in Spain.

We had begun frequenting a bar based on the fact it was the only place in town showing the football with English channels, having grown wearisome of Spanish commentary which rattles along at a thousand words a minute, the depressing negative mutterings of Mark Lawrenson were surprisingly welcome.

It is in this bar that I noticed the large volume of English and Irish expats, not newly retired, these folk have been absorbing Spanish rays for half their lifetime and most were likely eagerly awaiting their 100th birthday greetings from The Queen.

Observing them seated in the bar their skins mahogany coloured and leathered, looking like the handbag department of Selfridges, I noticed there were no couples, just single men and women.

One Irish fellow took us completely by surprise, popping up behind us singing “Goodnight neighbours” as he stumbled home.  The next day he passed by declaring to two dining ladies “Top o’ the morning to ya beautiful, and to your fecking beautiful friend too”

On the night of England’s latest footballing failure we had seated ourselves in the bar long before the alligator skinned armies arrived.  Most took up residence in an adjoining room which was hosting bingo, I looked on jealously as I surveyed their ranks sure I could outwit these dabber wielding hordes in a game of House.

As the football prepared for kick off two ladies sauntered in, two painted ladies.  Their skin of course that deep bronze colour, taut from years of sun abuse and cigarettes.  They were dressed what I would class as slutty for a woman of any age, so seeing these pensioned damsels mini skirted and boob tubed was quite a sight, then I noticed their faces, they had applied make up in the Barbara Cartland school of beautification, which basically involves it being applied with a shotgun.

I was not the only male alerted to the clown faced jezebels as every elderly gent were drawn to their medusa gaze as there appeared to be the frantic search of their pockets for some Viagra.

We had empty chairs at our table which we offered them, they were not impressed by this act of chivalry as they wanted two additional seats so the aforementioned gents could all try their luck at getting into their bloomers in their own version of speed dating – if you can associate the shuffling feet of the spinsters and their admirers as speedy.

They soon procured some seats and one by one a gent would try their luck at wooing the harlets.  .

One man hobbled over aided by his walking stick, his body so frail, his arms were spindly and no flesh were on them just visible bones and blood vessels.  He sat with the ladies but was soon ushered away, seemingly discounted for his lack of energy.

The parade continued until one gentleman who looking about 80 years old and one of the youngest cats in the bar had won out, he got up to leave taking the hand of one painted lady as she then offered her other hand to her friend, and off they shuffled into the sticky night air for surely one of the most vomit inducing ménage a trois imaginable

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  1. Thanks for that visual. That will haunt me for days…just so you know.

  2. Oh God, no. Please say this is a complete work of fiction! PLEASE!

    • I’m afraid not, it certainly appeared that way, I was drunk of course, but I think we all agreed what sordid events were occurring

  3. Dear Joe,

    Ah, bless their hearts. Fun in the sun.

    Love Dotty xxx

  4. This cracked me up big time. In San Diego we get quite a few of the old ladies who have charbroiled themselves into pieces of walnut driftwood. They tend to still wear bikinis when ever there is sun, which is most days in Southern California. I want to feel slightly ill after reading your post, but some day, not too far away, I will be old, and these ladies might start to look good to me then. Consider the alternative to these aging jezebels… blue and pink haired grandmothers in orthopedic shoes and support stockings, with sagging flaps of flesh dangling from beneath their arms like pterodactyl wings… oh man, I never thought I would live to be old.

  5. You paint a very vivid picture. And a terrifying one.

  6. Hahaha! Nothing like a good undercoat and high gloss acrylic enamel finish to bring all the boys to the yard.

    • What happened to growing old gracefully?

      • At least we now know what kind of strange fetish Barry Manilow had when he sang the lyrics, “Her name was Lola, She was showgirl, but that was 30 years ago”. I think the muppets did this song on their show. Oh God. Now I have your images, this song, and the Muppets in my head…

  7. Luvly! So glad to know they are getting lucky! ♥

  8. “Shellack for all my friends!”

  9. Nice. There aren’t enough mojitos in the universe to erase that image.

  10. So you’re saying you had a good time at the bar?

    • YEAH! it was great, more so when I went to the toilet and cockroaches were scurrying around my feet so I had to hop as I urinated


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