Man Kisses Woman in Mimosa – Entire Island Immediately Informed

A MAN has been seen kissing a girl inside a Jersey nightclub, sources claim

A man has admitted that kissing a girl in Mimosa is the best way to endow yourself in relentless ‘bants’ and induce a strong sense of paranoia for a solid month.

The man in question is Blake Dempsey.

He explains how if you’re ever a bit bored in Jersey, and the drama in your life is below par, simply waltz into any nightclub (Mimosa, preferably) and kiss a girl (with her consent) and in no less than 6 seconds, Snapchat will be ‘lit’, #mimosalad will be trending on Instagram and somewhere along the line you’ll have pissed off your ex.

Dempsey explains how his night of ‘wow’ turned into a night of ‘woe:’

“It was your standard Saturday. Nothing was going on and I’d accumulated too much unnecessary energy due to 103 constantly playing bangers from 5pm onwards. Next thing I know, I’m in a Farah shirt on the way to big Dave’s pre-drinks for the 35th week in a fucking row, armed with nothing but those weird half-boat shoes with the dumbass dildo laces and half a bottle of Co-op brand vodka shoved in the pocket of my incredibly tight jeans.”

“Halfway down Queens Road, I realised I’d forgotten mix. ‘Better bell the lads’ I thought, then again, there’s more chance of me getting into Mimosa in trainers than there is of me finding mix in their gaff.”

After Dempsey had rinsed the UK Top 40 playlist at pre-drinks, the squad rolled out to town in a similar fashion to the Transformers.

“This is when the ‘event’ happened. I’ll cut to the chase, I went to kiss this girl I knew from work on the cheek, but sort of missed and my tongue ended up in her face. Turns out we now have to be together because her mate whispered ‘don’t mess her around’ in my ear as Taylor Swift’s Blank Space – known for encompassing undertones of deep emotional shit – played in the background.”

As morning reared it’s narcissistic head, Dempsey awoke to find his Facebook was alight with random friend requests, hate mail, and ironic, witty statuses clearly directed at him regarding his night of promiscuity.

After several hours of investigating, we were able to track down Dempsey’s victim of that night. Gemma recalls her experience:

“To be fair, I thought he was someone else. I’d seen his Snapchat story at pre-drinks and I must have confused him with his far more attractive friend. I have no idea how that happened, but I know it was nearing 2am and I hadn’t caused any drama yet. I remember thinking ‘I can’t face another Monday where the only drama going on in my Whatsapp group is where to go for fucking lunch.’ I won’t stand for that again, I just won’t.”

We left Dempsey for 2 weeks to see if the drama had blown over, though upon our return, things had only got worse:

“Jesus fucking Christ where does it end? My Mum’s invited the girl round for dinner, the lads have convinced me she’s my girlfriend, and I’ve involuntarily got myself caught up in a boxing match with her ex who’s basically the love child of a 9ft bear and Thor. I’m not about this life.”

“Plus, she’s taken my favourite sweatpants. I know this ploy, I know her game and I know I’m never going to get them back.”

“Jokes on her though, I’ve stolen her fucking purse.”

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