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» Pubs
Definitely wasn't me...
Me and a few friends took the obligatory trip down to Brighton for my 21st a few years ago...
Friday night, all is well, royally pissed, takeaway, wonder why none of us are having any joy in the lesbian pub, home to sleep.
Saturday morning, and most have had to head home, but three of us stuck around for a session. 11am, cooked breakfast, first pint of the day. Sorted.
I remember nothing until 4am on the Sunday, standing outside a club, eating chips and talking to a few random revellers. One of them was a plumber, and he said he'd fix my boiler. He never did.
So anyway, one of my mates has been leaning up against a barrier protecting some roadworks, when it all topples over. No big drama there, but at least 40 people turned round to have a peek. A tad unnerved by all this unwarranted attention, said mate stands up, turns round, and sprints down an alleyway round the corner.
How we laughed.
"Don't worry," says my new found plumber friend, "it's a dead end, he'll be back in a second.
Too pissed to go and see if he was ok, we finished our chips. 20 minutes later, he's still not back, so we go to have a look, thoroughly expecting to find him hiding in a bin. But sure enough, alleyway is deserted, and there's a 7 foot high brick wall at the end of it.
We're a bit puzzled by all this, so we decide to split up, have a look about, and if we can't find him, meet back at the hotel and wait for him (he hasn't got a key).
About 6am, I give up and head back. We were staying in twin rooms, and we didn't know which room he'd go to, so we took a room each, and got some kip.
Check out time rolls around, and he's not in my room, so i presume he must be in mate's room.
He's not.
Shit.
Right, what do we do?
Pub. Definitely.
Anyway, we give the police a call, who can't tell us anything, and we give the hospital a call, ditto. Pondering our next move, my phone starts ringing:
"Hello, my name's whateverface, I'm (mate's name)'s solicitor, he's been arrested for burglary. Bollocks.
One panicked cab journey to a hove holding jail later, we hear the full story:
When he ran down the alleyway, he was so frightened that he scaled the wall and started running across the rooftops. Seeing something he recognised, he neglected to look where he was treading, and went straight through a skylight. Into a hotel kitchen. Hotel closed, he makes a dash for the back door, locked. Front door, locked. However, front door has a small window in it, so he decides it'll be a good idea to punch through it, and, result, there's a bloke walking past!
"Oi, mate, I'll give you £50 if you let me out of here!"
One petrified pedestrians frantic 999 call later, he's promptly nicked, and taken to the hospital for x-rays on his wrist.
They had to let him go in the end, as there were no fingerprints anywhere, but he was told in no uncertain terms to "never fucking come back to Brighton."
The best thing about it were his x-rays (now on his mantelpiece). Because they didn't trust him to not do a runner (and they were x-raying his wrists) he had to have them done with handcuffs on. I might ask him for a copy.
I know this isn't strictly about pubs, but we were in them all day, so there.
A thousand apologies for length.
(Thu 5th Feb 2009, 23:15, More)
Definitely wasn't me...
Me and a few friends took the obligatory trip down to Brighton for my 21st a few years ago...
Friday night, all is well, royally pissed, takeaway, wonder why none of us are having any joy in the lesbian pub, home to sleep.
Saturday morning, and most have had to head home, but three of us stuck around for a session. 11am, cooked breakfast, first pint of the day. Sorted.
I remember nothing until 4am on the Sunday, standing outside a club, eating chips and talking to a few random revellers. One of them was a plumber, and he said he'd fix my boiler. He never did.
So anyway, one of my mates has been leaning up against a barrier protecting some roadworks, when it all topples over. No big drama there, but at least 40 people turned round to have a peek. A tad unnerved by all this unwarranted attention, said mate stands up, turns round, and sprints down an alleyway round the corner.
How we laughed.
"Don't worry," says my new found plumber friend, "it's a dead end, he'll be back in a second.
Too pissed to go and see if he was ok, we finished our chips. 20 minutes later, he's still not back, so we go to have a look, thoroughly expecting to find him hiding in a bin. But sure enough, alleyway is deserted, and there's a 7 foot high brick wall at the end of it.
We're a bit puzzled by all this, so we decide to split up, have a look about, and if we can't find him, meet back at the hotel and wait for him (he hasn't got a key).
About 6am, I give up and head back. We were staying in twin rooms, and we didn't know which room he'd go to, so we took a room each, and got some kip.
Check out time rolls around, and he's not in my room, so i presume he must be in mate's room.
He's not.
Shit.
Right, what do we do?
Pub. Definitely.
Anyway, we give the police a call, who can't tell us anything, and we give the hospital a call, ditto. Pondering our next move, my phone starts ringing:
"Hello, my name's whateverface, I'm (mate's name)'s solicitor, he's been arrested for burglary. Bollocks.
One panicked cab journey to a hove holding jail later, we hear the full story:
When he ran down the alleyway, he was so frightened that he scaled the wall and started running across the rooftops. Seeing something he recognised, he neglected to look where he was treading, and went straight through a skylight. Into a hotel kitchen. Hotel closed, he makes a dash for the back door, locked. Front door, locked. However, front door has a small window in it, so he decides it'll be a good idea to punch through it, and, result, there's a bloke walking past!
"Oi, mate, I'll give you £50 if you let me out of here!"
One petrified pedestrians frantic 999 call later, he's promptly nicked, and taken to the hospital for x-rays on his wrist.
They had to let him go in the end, as there were no fingerprints anywhere, but he was told in no uncertain terms to "never fucking come back to Brighton."
The best thing about it were his x-rays (now on his mantelpiece). Because they didn't trust him to not do a runner (and they were x-raying his wrists) he had to have them done with handcuffs on. I might ask him for a copy.
I know this isn't strictly about pubs, but we were in them all day, so there.
A thousand apologies for length.
(Thu 5th Feb 2009, 23:15, More)
» Housemates
Barry...
I went to uni in Glasgow. Great fun, apart from a few moments when i was living with Barry. Mental Barry.
Three mates came up to stay for the weekend, and we took Barry out on the town for a few swift halves. One thing led to another, and it's 4am back at ours, polishing off the last of the whiskey.
My mate Matt had pull a young sort and was in the bedroom with her, when Barry called us in. There stands Matt, bollock naked, bottle of gin in hand, and the room covered in blood. After the initial panic, we realised that he'd stepped on some broken glass and it had left a pretty deep cut. Sobering up by this point, we send young girl home, clean up his foot, then head to bed.
Come noon the next day, we head back down the pub to watch the footy, leaving Matt sleeping off his hangover, and Barry keeping an eye on him.
At about 6pm, and well on our way, we get a phone call from Matt, telling us he's on the train home and that Barry would explain everything...
Turns out, when Matt had woken up the next day (not remembering too much) and seen the blood in the room, Barry had taken the opportunity to spin a little tale, which went something along the lines of:
Matt: What the fuck happened last night?
Barry: You know that girl you brought back last night?
M: Yeah...
B: You raped her.
M: But...The blood...?
B: Virgin blood.
And with this revelation, Barry went off to work. It was about 3 hours before Barry called him to let him in on the 'joke,' during which time Matt reckons he couldn't decide whether to kill himself or go to the police.
Funnily enough, people didn't come to stay with me much after that.
So that was Barry - Always good for a night out, but completely fucking mental.
(Thu 26th Feb 2009, 23:08, More)
Barry...
I went to uni in Glasgow. Great fun, apart from a few moments when i was living with Barry. Mental Barry.
Three mates came up to stay for the weekend, and we took Barry out on the town for a few swift halves. One thing led to another, and it's 4am back at ours, polishing off the last of the whiskey.
My mate Matt had pull a young sort and was in the bedroom with her, when Barry called us in. There stands Matt, bollock naked, bottle of gin in hand, and the room covered in blood. After the initial panic, we realised that he'd stepped on some broken glass and it had left a pretty deep cut. Sobering up by this point, we send young girl home, clean up his foot, then head to bed.
Come noon the next day, we head back down the pub to watch the footy, leaving Matt sleeping off his hangover, and Barry keeping an eye on him.
At about 6pm, and well on our way, we get a phone call from Matt, telling us he's on the train home and that Barry would explain everything...
Turns out, when Matt had woken up the next day (not remembering too much) and seen the blood in the room, Barry had taken the opportunity to spin a little tale, which went something along the lines of:
Matt: What the fuck happened last night?
Barry: You know that girl you brought back last night?
M: Yeah...
B: You raped her.
M: But...The blood...?
B: Virgin blood.
And with this revelation, Barry went off to work. It was about 3 hours before Barry called him to let him in on the 'joke,' during which time Matt reckons he couldn't decide whether to kill himself or go to the police.
Funnily enough, people didn't come to stay with me much after that.
So that was Barry - Always good for a night out, but completely fucking mental.
(Thu 26th Feb 2009, 23:08, More)
» Unexpected Nudity
The Bounty
Anyone who's ever spent time in the South Pacific might be familiar with Bounty rum. Particularly nasty stuff, but about 58% abv, so it certainly did the job.
My last night in Fiji, myself and a few other decided to settle down to a few bottles of the stuff after dinner. At what we figured was about 4 am, we decided we'd head down to the pool for a spot of skinny dipping. After a very quick (and drunk) look around for late night lurkers, we all disrobed and headed in the pool. After a couple of minutes, the maitre'd from the restaurant headed out, and simply pointed to the restaurant.
Cue at least 15 horrified honeymoon couples staring at 6 pissheads frolicking about in the pool as they tucked into their steak.
The time? 9:15pm.
The length? A lot shorter on the way out than on the way in.
(Fri 29th May 2009, 22:36, More)
The Bounty
Anyone who's ever spent time in the South Pacific might be familiar with Bounty rum. Particularly nasty stuff, but about 58% abv, so it certainly did the job.
My last night in Fiji, myself and a few other decided to settle down to a few bottles of the stuff after dinner. At what we figured was about 4 am, we decided we'd head down to the pool for a spot of skinny dipping. After a very quick (and drunk) look around for late night lurkers, we all disrobed and headed in the pool. After a couple of minutes, the maitre'd from the restaurant headed out, and simply pointed to the restaurant.
Cue at least 15 horrified honeymoon couples staring at 6 pissheads frolicking about in the pool as they tucked into their steak.
The time? 9:15pm.
The length? A lot shorter on the way out than on the way in.
(Fri 29th May 2009, 22:36, More)