Not even tripping... though you think we was.
Well, the other week (losing track of days, weeks, months, years and even decades here) was my pals 22nd birthday (significant, no. Excuse to get shit faced, don't need one).
Went on a crawl, or a destruction of the entire inner circle of London, until we were actually crawling (this is fact). Started at 2:30pm, finished at 5am (that's how we roll). Erm... two pubs in Liverpool Street, one looked like the Royal Albert Hall (erm...) and the other one called the Gun (to suit my Gooner heritage). Bang on the Guinesses, red wine and how ever many Sambuca burners I managed to force down the old gullet. One woman, there for her son's 18th birthday (the next bit will amaze you on a mans 18th - the passage to life indeed). We was in a rammed, quite loud (or was that just us chanting Arsenal classics?) pub and she said 'shhhhhhhhh'. Unbelievable. Shhhhh on a Saturday on a kids 18th, get the chess tables out... I was on my way by then, having none of it!
Then it was off to Shoreditch. Ordered a fishbowl from a lovely barmaid. Asked a bloke behind the bar (who spoke very little English) where is the fish?... it's a 'FISH' bowl. He tapped the barmaid on the shoulder to ask. She looked at him as to say 'you fucking idiot'. Then started dancing with some random Frenchies. Said to a bird 'j'adore au Theirry Henry... joue au Chein' (which turns out to mean I play dog???). She was quite impressed, although, she didn't have a clue who Henry was. Really? You're French and don't know who Henry is? Give over. On that note, it was time to depart on hit Old Street (with a mallet).
Strolling down to Hoxton, pretty shitfaced. Spotted a billboard of Olly Murs and that was it. 'Fuck me... it's Olly Murs'. This applied for every male (some questionable) we passed by (you had to be there). Females were Gwen Stafani (fuck knows). Got some good feedback. One guy wanted a fight 'til he feel face first in to the curb (much to the amusement of his own girlfriend). All in all pretty funny.
Went to a few funny places in Hoxton before holding up the Northern Line in Tottenham Court Road to give passers by a hug and high five (which lasted about two hours or something). One guy pretended to be a cop and pulled out his wallet and threatened to arrest me. Imagine that in court... 'you sir have been found guilty of intending to high five mother fuckers'. What a dick.Convinced people the northern line was actually down at one point and half the people turned around the seek new routes (really... did I look official with sunglasses and stag horns on my head and half a can of Belgium's finest?).
Finished off in 'dull' Camden. Barfly... shisha and many more beverages. Banging out the classics (Whole Lotta Love and The Enemy were highlights... espeicially that song...erm...y'know the one that goes 'don't let the rain come down on an empire'...2 secs it will come to me...YOU'RE NOT ALONE - tune!). Then off to ridicule Olly Murs some more (he was everywhere, man). Convinced some E'd up girl her head was in a box.
Somehow woke up on a bus about 2 hours later with shades on and beer all down my nice white top... Epic!
'til next time
Willie Wilde
Well, the other week (losing track of days, weeks, months, years and even decades here) was my pals 22nd birthday (significant, no. Excuse to get shit faced, don't need one).
Went on a crawl, or a destruction of the entire inner circle of London, until we were actually crawling (this is fact). Started at 2:30pm, finished at 5am (that's how we roll). Erm... two pubs in Liverpool Street, one looked like the Royal Albert Hall (erm...) and the other one called the Gun (to suit my Gooner heritage). Bang on the Guinesses, red wine and how ever many Sambuca burners I managed to force down the old gullet. One woman, there for her son's 18th birthday (the next bit will amaze you on a mans 18th - the passage to life indeed). We was in a rammed, quite loud (or was that just us chanting Arsenal classics?) pub and she said 'shhhhhhhhh'. Unbelievable. Shhhhh on a Saturday on a kids 18th, get the chess tables out... I was on my way by then, having none of it!
Then it was off to Shoreditch. Ordered a fishbowl from a lovely barmaid. Asked a bloke behind the bar (who spoke very little English) where is the fish?... it's a 'FISH' bowl. He tapped the barmaid on the shoulder to ask. She looked at him as to say 'you fucking idiot'. Then started dancing with some random Frenchies. Said to a bird 'j'adore au Theirry Henry... joue au Chein' (which turns out to mean I play dog???). She was quite impressed, although, she didn't have a clue who Henry was. Really? You're French and don't know who Henry is? Give over. On that note, it was time to depart on hit Old Street (with a mallet).
Strolling down to Hoxton, pretty shitfaced. Spotted a billboard of Olly Murs and that was it. 'Fuck me... it's Olly Murs'. This applied for every male (some questionable) we passed by (you had to be there). Females were Gwen Stafani (fuck knows). Got some good feedback. One guy wanted a fight 'til he feel face first in to the curb (much to the amusement of his own girlfriend). All in all pretty funny.
Went to a few funny places in Hoxton before holding up the Northern Line in Tottenham Court Road to give passers by a hug and high five (which lasted about two hours or something). One guy pretended to be a cop and pulled out his wallet and threatened to arrest me. Imagine that in court... 'you sir have been found guilty of intending to high five mother fuckers'. What a dick.Convinced people the northern line was actually down at one point and half the people turned around the seek new routes (really... did I look official with sunglasses and stag horns on my head and half a can of Belgium's finest?).
Finished off in 'dull' Camden. Barfly... shisha and many more beverages. Banging out the classics (Whole Lotta Love and The Enemy were highlights... espeicially that song...erm...y'know the one that goes 'don't let the rain come down on an empire'...2 secs it will come to me...YOU'RE NOT ALONE - tune!). Then off to ridicule Olly Murs some more (he was everywhere, man). Convinced some E'd up girl her head was in a box.
Somehow woke up on a bus about 2 hours later with shades on and beer all down my nice white top... Epic!
'til next time
Willie Wilde
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