Last night I think typified London for me. It was a fairly bog standard day, and I was quite pleased with myself because 1) I’d found the William Shatner version of Pulp’s Common People and 2) I went to the gym for my lunch hour, and then again when I got home.
9pm: Home, knackered and feeling good. I was ok with sitting in and watching some TV when Kev called. He’s back in London because he got a job that starts on Monday. He’s already called James and Nav, and we’re going out to celebrate.
10pm: We’re in the Pitcher and Piano on Upper Street, a place we used to go a lot, and it’s rockin’. Seriously great! The women are not too dressed up, but smiling for summer, and the lads are friendly and chatty.
I’m not sure a lot of women appreciate that, but while women play a big part in our enjoyment of a night out; the men play an equally big part. A couple of idiots, kids, or one troublemaker/loud mouth and your whole night takes a turn for the worse. Thankfully, last night had none of them.
Game on, and we’re chatting away. No Nav (he’d fallen asleep), but Kev and James were on fine form. The music in the Pitcher was great, and no-one really cared that the DJ had played Praise Cats 3 times in the last hour as we were dancing away. I started getting friendly with this cracking wee Spanish girl who was a dancing diva. She couldn’t understand my accent, and I wasn’t really interested in her mind, so we had a great half hour. But she, like a lot of the women, left at about 12.
With Kev being flat broke we just went next door to walkabout. I know it seems that we go there a lot, but considering it’s along the road (literally) from my house, going twice a month isn’t too bad. Kev has an arrangement with a bouncer mate, so gets in free; while James and I are stopped with a “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” from the bouncer who caught me getting a blowjob from the manager’s (now ex) girlfriend. Thinking fast, I give it the old BBG excuse.
This time, he was called Leon. Man, it never fails.
Well, fuck me, but Walkabout was a sausage-fest. And to top it off, the music was god awful. 40 minutes of Speed Garage, constant “big shout out to Tracey on her 16th birthday” and the fact that James is working today made us leave early.
Anyway, we get on the bus home as Kev was plastered and couldn’t remember where his flat was – honestly 5 weeks away and he’s regressed into a bloody tourist. Then the Gods smiled on me, stunning wee Australian girl falls down the stairs. I let go of Kev and pick her up. Kev falls over making a total tit out of himself (can’t take him anywhere). James, was REALLY helpful, as he just stood their laughing – worse he was pretty sober as he had work today. Kev seems fine, or at least alive, so I Start chatting away to this wee woman called Felicity. 2 stops later and her this fugly woman comes on over, stands ON kev, pushed James and me, and demands that I stop talking to her friend cos I’m only after one thing. I assure her that alcohol helps my stamina, and should the conversation go well, I’m after at least 2 things.
This, rather unsurprisingly, results in a slap from the Miss Piggy look-a-like; and the cutie I was holding gets whipped out of my arms, to the howls of laugher from the people around me.
If this wasn’t bad enough, the group of Australians are getting off at my bus stop. As I’m about to get off Hippo-girl starts shouting obscenities at me, about how I’m not going to follow them home and I should leave their mate alone. I’m wondering if I can hit her, because, if I’m being honest, I’m not that sure that she’s a woman. This must have been abundantly clear to the her (I think the looking for the Adams Apple was the give away), as she pushed me over, and the bus driver closed the doors and took off. The cow.
Laughing at the absurdity of the situation, I get off at the next stop and wander home. As I pass the kebab shop, I see the fat one scooping down 5-6 burgers. She looks distracted, and I figure it’s time for one last good attempt. I take out a business card, and keep in my left palm. I go in, and buy a coke from Stelios. Confidently, fuck it, arrogantly, I wander over to the table, making sure that the cutie is on my immediate left. I put my left hand down on the table and give a fake apology to the thing wolfing down 3 whole cows. And I turn an walk away, leaving the card on the table next to the girl.
20 minutes later, I’m in bed, watching the Simpsons when I get a text...
“Smooth. Very smooth. Felicity”.
Steve Bank, fucking legend.
And it’s only Friday.
