November 27, 2005
Mooki Spoo Laffed
It’s been a fairly eventful few days and I do feel like writing – although it is proper park ji sung at the moment – a famous footballer rhyming slang for “parky” – which is UK slang for “more than a bit cold” – which the UK is doing a very good job of being at the moment – but it’s feckin winter so what do folk expect exactly? Bunnies, rainbows and sweet summer morns?
I am back in the village again after my recent London and all day drinking experiences – Thursdays dinner was a stratospherically expensive expenses bashing meal for five people and was a massive success – excellent food, very cool restaurant, everyone got along famously and I might get some huge business out of it one day. Later on I reviewed what I said over the course of the meal and judged that only 30% of it sounded stupid – so that’s pretty good for me – you might think that 30% sounds like a lot – but when you consider that means 70% of what I said made me look like I knew what I was talking about, then I’m sure you’ll see the positives.
I was then charged with taking out my Canadian bosses son to show him the night sites of London – to be fair the lad had done the same for me whilst in Toronto and I still hold that cities charms in high regard as a result - we ended up at a private party courtesy of my good friend Gali – I was supposed to make sure my bosses son got into no trouble what so ever and was back in the hotel by 1am – I was fairly successful in this - it would’ve been kind of career threatening to have done otherwise.
Well he wasn’t that drunk – he did get back to the hotel eventually – and he didn’t get into any arguments with the boy friends of the women he was trying to chat up - but it was close.
The shindig was held at a fairly old skool kind of basement club called the Jam Bar, I met a 36 year old woman from Vancouver who looked like Meg Ryan and she has my number if she ever leaves the under-appreciative chap she lives with – I know she’s 36 because she told me she had been living here for 14 years and the easiest math for me to do was pronounce that means she would have been living here since she was 16 – I headed for the nearest ten and subtracted you see – if that makes sense – I mean you know, 29 minus 14 – that would take me time to think about – I’d look stupid – so I went for 30 – easier to do.
But of course for a woman to hear that I had guessed she was 29 rather than 30 – there’s a world of difference there – normally you don’t get involved with women and age – but her statement was an invite onto the subject – and sure, to hear I thought she was 30 when she was actually 36 – that’s a good thing to hear – but 29 or 28 would have been soooooo much better.
So much better to the point that if I had been better at math she would of called by now and we’d be married with twins on the way and looking to buy a farm in Devon.
After the club Gali and I hoovered a great deal of Colombian marching powder at the Farringdon Travel lodge and talked codshit for about 4 hours. That’s the first instance I’ve done that in a very long time – but as Obi Wan should of said – moderation is the key young Skywalker – just don’t make it a habit.
The next morning we headed back to the village – very difficult as the trains from Waterloo were absolutely fecked beyond belief – no one seemed to know when, where or if ever they would be running in our general direction again. Once home after a 1 hour journey had turned into 3, we decided to go our separate ways to sort ourselves out and then meet again for afternoon drinks – which turned into the rest of the day – which ended with me meeting a fine feisty Scots girl who once headbutted me (it was all a big misunderstanding about 5 years ago and apart from that we always got on really well – even if, at the end of the day, she is mental).
She now works as a stripper at Spearmint Rhino’s in Bournemouth. To say that I spent the whole conversation looking like a child at Christmas is quite an understatement.
I am back in the village again after my recent London and all day drinking experiences – Thursdays dinner was a stratospherically expensive expenses bashing meal for five people and was a massive success – excellent food, very cool restaurant, everyone got along famously and I might get some huge business out of it one day. Later on I reviewed what I said over the course of the meal and judged that only 30% of it sounded stupid – so that’s pretty good for me – you might think that 30% sounds like a lot – but when you consider that means 70% of what I said made me look like I knew what I was talking about, then I’m sure you’ll see the positives.
I was then charged with taking out my Canadian bosses son to show him the night sites of London – to be fair the lad had done the same for me whilst in Toronto and I still hold that cities charms in high regard as a result - we ended up at a private party courtesy of my good friend Gali – I was supposed to make sure my bosses son got into no trouble what so ever and was back in the hotel by 1am – I was fairly successful in this - it would’ve been kind of career threatening to have done otherwise.
Well he wasn’t that drunk – he did get back to the hotel eventually – and he didn’t get into any arguments with the boy friends of the women he was trying to chat up - but it was close.
The shindig was held at a fairly old skool kind of basement club called the Jam Bar, I met a 36 year old woman from Vancouver who looked like Meg Ryan and she has my number if she ever leaves the under-appreciative chap she lives with – I know she’s 36 because she told me she had been living here for 14 years and the easiest math for me to do was pronounce that means she would have been living here since she was 16 – I headed for the nearest ten and subtracted you see – if that makes sense – I mean you know, 29 minus 14 – that would take me time to think about – I’d look stupid – so I went for 30 – easier to do.
But of course for a woman to hear that I had guessed she was 29 rather than 30 – there’s a world of difference there – normally you don’t get involved with women and age – but her statement was an invite onto the subject – and sure, to hear I thought she was 30 when she was actually 36 – that’s a good thing to hear – but 29 or 28 would have been soooooo much better.
So much better to the point that if I had been better at math she would of called by now and we’d be married with twins on the way and looking to buy a farm in Devon.
After the club Gali and I hoovered a great deal of Colombian marching powder at the Farringdon Travel lodge and talked codshit for about 4 hours. That’s the first instance I’ve done that in a very long time – but as Obi Wan should of said – moderation is the key young Skywalker – just don’t make it a habit.
The next morning we headed back to the village – very difficult as the trains from Waterloo were absolutely fecked beyond belief – no one seemed to know when, where or if ever they would be running in our general direction again. Once home after a 1 hour journey had turned into 3, we decided to go our separate ways to sort ourselves out and then meet again for afternoon drinks – which turned into the rest of the day – which ended with me meeting a fine feisty Scots girl who once headbutted me (it was all a big misunderstanding about 5 years ago and apart from that we always got on really well – even if, at the end of the day, she is mental).
She now works as a stripper at Spearmint Rhino’s in Bournemouth. To say that I spent the whole conversation looking like a child at Christmas is quite an understatement.
Spo | November 27, 2005
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