It’s 2.30pm and I just woke up. Oh my god what a
crazy night last night was. First of all I went to Elisa the psycho
Mexican’s house for a party…there weren’t many people there
(unfortunately it was the whole crowd who I had kissed and had now
banded together in an unholy alliance against me) but it was ok fun
(until one of the girls, a real nutbar, decided to start crying because
she wanted to kiss me (which I didn’t want to do or I would have)).
ANYWAY
so after this incident I made a pretty sharp exit and went to Notre
Dame for a bit – it was nice and busy and I jumped behind the counter
and put a few songs on (someone had to save Meghan – she was just
overwhelmed by the complexity of music and drinks in parallel (only
kidding M!!!)) before chatting with a smashing Swedish girl for about
half an hour (who’s actually Dutch) and dancing with the crew (Z, E and
T).

WELL usually the night would end there but NO!!! because the Empress
Shiv was there….She looked at me and Joss with her eyes of swirling
complexity and spoke unto us, instructing us to go swiftly to that den
of despicability known as Vieux Manoir…The nightclub from Hell…..

So we set off to the club, but first George the whining, bar pissing
Irish says that we should go back to his for a few drinks before hand.
Joss had to tidy up Notre Dame so he came 20 minutes later and by the
time he arrived, George was asleep on the bed…..he then picked
himself up, went into the bathroom and threw his guts up, and fell
asleep with his face in the cold, white porcelain (of the sink, don’t
worry!)….

We left him there (not in the sink, we put him to bed) and proceeded to
the club of death…Queen Shiv was quickly found at the bar with her
aides, Rob + Alex, and much drink festivity was had…and as soon as
the sounds of Mary J Blige were heard weraced to the stage to shake
some tail – oh shit I just realised that I forgot a big thing….

*Appendix* – before seeing Mistress Shiv, I had the misfortune to come
across the crazy chick from the party who was crying (again) in the
club (but this time she was mixing it up with a bit of throwing up as
well which is pretty novel)…anyway I think that her mates were taking
stress tablets or some shit because one of them started to have a go at
me…’Make her better!’ ‘You know how to cheer her up!’ ‘How old are
you?!’. If I had have known how to sober her up and make her full of
the joys of spring, believe me, I would have just to get her to piss
off – and then I would have finished with another phrase which would
have made this guy turn into a fucking big can of petrol which I would
have tipped over her and set on fire (only joking kids – don’t play
with matches)…Well obviously I could do little to save her so she was
carried home…in the meantime we went back into the club and danced
for ages….Joss (who was ace earlier in the night dealing with the
faux-agression scenario) was on fire…Shiv was on fire…Alex
was….oh Alex….

You see the problem was (and always is) with this club that there were
roughly 2 girls there (ok a couple more than that but you get the
impression) and Alex started dancing with this real hotty (a shock to
all of us due to the fact that there was already one bona fide hotty on
the stage)…it all looked good until her boyfriend showed up and
dragged her off the dancefloor (by her hair) into the cloakroom. Doh!
Alex then showed why he won the ‘Nice Guy of the Year 1997’ award
because he persued the couple to the bar and demanded that the prick
boyfriend apologise. Naturally this dickhead wasn’t going to, but Alex
stood his ground and eventually (when surrounded by about 20 blokes)
the twat boyfriend left (after vowing to ‘break Alex’s heart’ (an
interesting proposition)).

Shortly after this carnival Joss and I walked home (in the bitter cold)
which took 45 minutes for me…Ouch! I still have George’s front door
key (he he he)…I wonder what carnage I can cause with this little
beauty…

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