The Southall special. Usually starts after the mandem have finished their lamb chops and Hennessy, and someone (Dhunna, obviously) gets too gassed. The “pickle twist” is when he rams two greasy fingers straight up Choda’s bunda, gives it a proper wrist crank like he’s opening a stubborn achar jar, and then licks it after, swearing it tastes “spicy but sweet.” Choda’s screaming in Punjabi, Harps is holding his ankles behind his head like a rotisserie chicken, and Manvir’s in the corner tugging it while blasting Panjabi MC. Ends with the sheets smelling like garlic naan.
Bruv, she hit me with the Punjabi Pickle Twist outta nowhere — one second I’m calm, next second I’m folded like a samosa in Manvir’s mum’s tupperware.
by HorseCoq August 25, 2025

(noun; slang; NSFW)
A shady, half-baked operation run by someone who pretends to be a professional but is really just scamming everyone involved. Named after Pintu, an ex-videographer who now spends more time plastering lies than walls.
Sexual slang: when someone makes a huge sticky mess, tries to cover it up poorly, and pretends nothing happened—exactly like Pintu covering up his scams.
A shady, half-baked operation run by someone who pretends to be a professional but is really just scamming everyone involved. Named after Pintu, an ex-videographer who now spends more time plastering lies than walls.
Sexual slang: when someone makes a huge sticky mess, tries to cover it up poorly, and pretends nothing happened—exactly like Pintu covering up his scams.
Example 1:
“Bro, don’t trust that used car dealer, his warranty is straight out of Pintu’s Plaster Shop.”
Example 2 (NSFW):
“She thought it was gonna be romantic, but it turned into a full-on Pintu’s Plaster Shop all over her bedsheets.”
“Bro, don’t trust that used car dealer, his warranty is straight out of Pintu’s Plaster Shop.”
Example 2 (NSFW):
“She thought it was gonna be romantic, but it turned into a full-on Pintu’s Plaster Shop all over her bedsheets.”
by HorseCoq August 30, 2025

Bhushan from Ambala is behind the counter in the tiny side-street shop, perched on a stool in lace lingerie that’s doing zero favors for his bulk. He drags a fat joint and immediately collapses into a coughing fit, tears streaking his face. Someone slips behind him, hands gripping his waist, thumbs brushing just right, and the Bajaj scooter outside revs like it’s cheering them on. Bhushan wheezes, “I’m fine yaar,” but the lingerie and the smoke make the whole scene feel like a bizarre, smoky dance.
Bhushan hit the joint in pink lace and instantly went full Bangalore Blow Back—coughing, tears streaming, hands on his waist, Bajaj revving outside, and the whole shop smelling like chaos.
by HorseCoq September 1, 2025
