[Yossarian]

A new thread dedicated to tales of debauchery with a slightly happier (or at least milder) outcome than Game for a Laugh...

Last night I took my dad and a couple of mates to Ronnie Scott's club, to see the amazing Vincent Herring and his Earth Jazz Agents.  The evening got off to a rather alcoholic start, and over the course of the night we ploughed through an impressive quantity of bottles. A slight mistake on my part was the discovery that the barman was actually quite good. My receipt (following two bottles of champagne beforehand) indicates that we consumed: 1 bottle of sancerre, 2 bottle of chablis, 2 bottles margaret river cab / merlot, 2 martinis, 2 vespers, 4 sazeracs, 1 ronnie's sting, 1 jazz negroni (absinthe instead of something), and 2 buffalo chase manhattans.

The band were amazing. The bass player (Richie Goods) was someone I would quite easily imagine Miles Davis describing as a motherfucker.  As was the pianist, who was announced as something of a ladies man.

Sometime later we found ourselves at the bar while Natalie Williams and the house band were playing the final set.  The bass player and the pianist sidled up, and we soon found ourselves in deep conversation about Charles Mingus and Elvin Jones. I say "deep conversation" - in retrospect it was probably deep on their side and utter gibberish on ours.  I also tried to set my sister up with the pianist, despite the fact that (a) she wasn't there, (b) he lives in new york and (c) she prefers the company of ladies. Anyway, bizarrely enough they mentioned that they were about to go and watch Amy Whinehouse in some little club and would be like to join them. My father (65) and Fred (72) asked who she was, and then when they found out decided against it. I declined also, for a reason that I cannot recall.

Anyway, we stumbled out and immediately a man of questionable moral character tried to persuade us to come into his club, which apparently was full of women. My father patiently explained that he had managed to escape the clutches of a woman (my mother) for an evening, and he certainly didn't want to meet any more.

Arriving back at Hazlitts I ascended to my room, and rather than do the sensible thing and go to bed (it was about 1.30am at this point) I decided to go back outside and have a wander around Soho. I did this, but after a while I got quite cold so I splashed out on a packet of cigarettes (I don't smoke any more, but it seemed like a good idea at the time) and some chewing gum. I returned to my room, found the DVD of The Man With Two Brains in my bag and slapped it in the player, chain smoked about five Marlboro Reds and poured myself a glass of red wine. Within minutes I had managed to coat both the carpet (pale beige) and an antique writing desk with St Emilion. I am not quite sure how this happened. Rather than follow it up by chucking the TV out of the window (I don't think that destroying an LCD TV would be quite so satisfying as a big old fashioned metal and glass job) I found myself on my hands and knees, trying to clean it up with loo roll and Aveda stimulating body wash.

I woke up this morning with a hangover of epic proportions and a sense of intense dread. The carpet looked like a dying animal had limped in during the night, bled all over the place, and then dragged its nearly dead body into a cupboard for its final hours.

Of course, I mentioned none of this to the nice man at reception. I am awaiting the cleaning bill with trepidation...

[SA Chris]

The bass player and the pianist sidled up, and we soon found ourselves in deep conversation about Charles Mingus and Elvin Jones.

Great.
Really Great.

[Yossarian]

he was a motherfucker...

[BenF]

Great.
Really Great.

Acker Bilk...  shite.

[Sloper]

Excellent and no lines of snuff mentioned at all.

Which will of course be rectified for my 40th, which no doubt you will be attending as KP / junior sommelier.

[Yossarian]

no, no snuff at all...

i am trying to write a poem about crack, if that's of any interest?

i would be delighted to attend your birthday, and will happily bring a selection of fine burgundy with me...

[andy_e]

Amy Whinehouse

Intentional?

[Yossarian]

yes...

[SA Chris]

Acker Bilk...  shite.

Second best thing to come out of Zomerzet?

[Houdini]

Is Schweinhaus from Somerset?

[Houdini]

Hmmm . . .

Yoss I'm struggling as I don't ever recall any happy endings to my excesses . . .  But I'll bump this to give others a chance (lets face it, hardly anyone participated in the GFAL thread, read it like . . .)  I'll scour my grey area.

[Houdini]

Apparently last night or rather this morning was a corker, and not for the 1st time either:


Obviously the wine is getting quite out-of-hand . . .   last night I drank a few glasses of water after the other to stave-off the dreaded spins, and retire.

This evening, Fraudini informs me that I should desist from telling her to Fuck off!  I don't need any help! @ 3AM when she discovers me wrestling naked w/ the colonial-style cabinet next to the bedroom door ie: attempting to open the door and leave the bedroom & head to the lavatory, an act that has nothing in common w/ the colonial dresser next to the door.  And that approaching the age of 36 I really must try to stop wee-ing on the bathroom floor in my sleep.

Sometimes the dresser wins, others not - but every few weeks I have an somnambulist argument w/ that bastard colonial dresser which always gets in the way of me and my midnight ablutions . . .  You really had to be there.  It would look great on infra-red video . . .

[Yossarian]

i suggest you invest in a camcorder and then release the DVD as soon as possible. i would buy it...

the "fuck off! i don't need any help" resonates strongly with me. i think i told my aunt the same thing. aged 9.

they never fucking buy my xmas presents any more.

[Houdini]

You're right: I should film it.  Hell, I made my face ache w/ laughing thinking about it, I could probably prolapse viewing it!


Know what you mean about relatives & gifts - they kinda dry-up after ones 18th . . .

[slackline]

Apparently last night or rather this morning was a corker, and not for the 1st time either:


Obviously the wine is getting quite out-of-hand . . .   last night I drank a few glasses of water after the other to stave-off the dreaded spins, and retire.

This evening, Fraudini informs me that I should desist from telling her to Fuck off!  I don't need any help! @ 3AM when she discovers me wrestling naked w/ the colonial-style cabinet next to the bedroom door ie: attempting to open the door and leave the bedroom & head to the lavatory, an act that has nothing in common w/ the colonial dresser next to the door.  And that approaching the age of 36 I really must try to stop wee-ing on the bathroom floor in my sleep.

Sometimes the dresser wins, others not - but every few weeks I have an somnambulist argument w/ that bastard colonial dresser which always gets in the way of me and my midnight ablutions . . .  You really had to be there.  It would look great on infra-red video . . .

  I have a strange sense of deja vu, having been woken up innumerable times by my long-suffering wife whilst trying to find the porcelain in the back of the wardrobe. I swear it was just behind the lion and a little to the right of the witch. Are we related?

[Plattsy]

One Christmas Eve I was in Scandals, Chapeltown and it was heaving. As packed as I'd ever seen it. Five deep at the bar and every inch of floor taken. Getting drunk was going to be a problem.

I opted for the drink half my pint. Drink the last half waiting to get served approach. This was an excellent success. I would estimate I'd drank something like 15 pints (of carlsberg piss) by the end of night and I was completely trollied.

During the walk home at around 1am, according to witnesses, I made a bee line for Carousel pub we were passing. I have no memory of doing this and cannot confirm whether the door was locked or not. My mates walked on and left me at this point.

The next thing I can remember is walking down a jennel I don't recognise. At the end of it theres a 5ft fence and I need to climb over it. This could easily have been someones back garden. Upon landing on the other side of the fence I fall over and land belly flop style. Things go blank again. I remember being on the floor (grass) but I'm unsure whether I had been asleep or not.

A similar thing happens again. Theres a jennel and this time a 7ft fence. I remember thinking I need to make sure I don't fall over this time. But can't remember whether I managed it or not.

Anyway somehow (again unknown to me) I end up back in the middle of Chapeltown outside the Spar (in between the pub I was drinking in and the pub I tried to get in (ie further from home than when I was last seen)) thinking to myself. It's raining (not something I'd noticed before) and there is no one around. Must be late I remember thinking. I then headed home but don't remember the journey or arriving home.

My father came in to wake me up for Christmas dinner and as I woke up last nights events flashed through my mind. I asked him to check if my jumper was in the wash basket. He walked in holding up my blue Timberland jumper completely covered in mud. My jeans were no better.

If only I had a hovering robot camera following my around taking footage so I could piece together more of what happened and where.

[SA Chris]

Must be a South yorks thing, but I had to look up wtf a "jennel" was. Had only heard it called a snicket before.

[Plattsy]

Must be a South yorks thing, but I had to look up wtf a "jennel" was. Had only heard it called a snicket before.

Folk from Barnsley call em ginnels (pronouncing the G like Graham not like Gin) but then they are weird folk.

[Houdini]

And what are they called in English?

[SA Chris]

Alleys

[fatneck]

Entries or ennogs in the Pool...

I have a strange sense of deja vu, having been woken up innumerable times by my long-suffering wife whilst trying to find the porcelain in the back of the wardrobe. I swear it was just behind the lion and a little to the right of the witch. Are we related?

Unequivocally...