Nightlife

Nightlife — No Comments
7
Nov 09

The Worst Night Out Ever…

Its late, 2.10am, Saturday morning and while most people are partying or sleeping, I’m doing neither.

Never before have I experienced the very worst bits of a night out without also experiencing some nice bits, you know, the warmth of a bar or a club, a drink, a conversation with somebody, anybody. Not tonight.

This disastrous night started two weeks ago when I dropped in to see a friend of mine and Len’s, Kenny, a wheeler dealer in the world of janitorial supplies with a side line in sportswear and sports equipment. It isn’t important how we know Kenny considering his random occupation but needless to say, he’s squarely to blame for ruining my f*cking night.

On that fateful day, two weeks ago, Kenny tells me of a nightclub he’s started to frequent on the first Friday of each month – Lords Nightclub, Hullbridge. He bangs on about this place as though he’s its f*cking marketing manager, making out it’s a total meat market, get in before 8.30pm because their queuing around the block…..and so on. Anyway, Kenny, although a thoroughly decent guy is also a bit of a bullshitter. He’s famous for it and never fails to bullshit at least once a week. Usually, his once a week bullshit story is his arranging to go out with Len and I on Friday night and then at the eleventh hour, contacting me to explain he can’t make it because some bird or other has asked him to take her out. He can’t miss this opportunity because she’s a sort and won’t ask him again. You’d think he’d change his story once in a while but the f*cking idiot doesn’t and leaves himself wide open to mockery.

So Kenny has put into motion a sequence of events that will inevitably lead to me writing about what a f*cking terrible night I had and here it is…

Len and I don’t believe for one second this place is going to be rammed at 8.30pm and arrive late. Only 20 minutes late but f*uck me, I thought Peter Andre had just turned up because the queue was around the block and I MEAN around the f*cking block. To make matters much worse it’s raining hard, cold, and windy. At one point I think I saw Ray Mears walking up and down the queue giving out survival tips. Anyway, neither Len or I have a coat, Kenny arrives later than us and is therefore no help in jumping the queue and we have to wait it out. To give Kenny his dues though, it was f*cking heaving. We daren’t leave because the potential was amazing. However, it takes an hour to get to the entrance and I look like I’ve been through a f*cking car wash, when the bouncer says ‘Sorry mate, no ripped jeans’. I protest and broker a deal whereas I go home and change and he lets me straight in. Len and Kenny, miserable, cold and wet go into the club and as far as I’m concerned are waiting for me to return. I get home, change and I’m about to leave the house when Len arrives back citing illness as his main reason and wants to call it a night. I just cannot f*cking believe it.

I reluctantly call it a night also.

Michael

Nightlife / Relationships — No Comments
2
Nov 09

Churchills Nightclub, Southend

I’ve delayed this update until now due to excessive drinking over the weekend, resulting in a bad head. The night also caused a serious bout of resentment which I shall explain as I go along.

The funny thing about being broke is the desire to escape the reality of the situation by any means necessary. This leads many people to alcohol, the weaker of which become full blown alcoholics. I’m different, I think, because although I like the escapism of drinking excessively at the moment, I’ve always been tea total in and around the home and only drink socially. I don’t particularly like the taste of alcoholic drinks and see them only as a means to an end.
Anyway, the good owners at Churchills sell cheap drinks every Friday night and my friend, Len and I are regulars of said establishment. The way I see it, I cannot escape the reality of not being able to pay the rent and this will come to a head soon, so I may as well enjoy my last weekends out while I can.

A bit about Len. Len is the most unattractive man I have ever known. His lack of hygiene is legendary amongst his long term friends and being my landlord and us living in the same dwelling, I can confirm every story. He is quite disgusting on every level. When he farts, he doesnt just fart, he produces something that can only be described as one of the modern wonders of this world in a prolonged, (sometimes up to 30 seconds), very wet, steaming, stinking, stomach turning, fresh air shit in his pants fart that cannot be excused in any circles. No man can produce such a phenomenon without the occasional follow through and Len is no different. This is a man that has to dispense with underwear during nights out after such occurrences, opting to limp to the toilets as though nursing a dead leg but actually nursing a shit in his pants.

Amongst Lens other traits are a total lack of respect for himself or anyone else, especially women. He goes on nights out with one thing in mind – getting laid and has a technique that I can only describe as crash, bang, wallop – setting his sights on the most intoxicated women, pouring more alcohol down the throat of any women that allows him and then pulling her into a taxi. He is a real life ‘Sid the Sexist’ and some women find it quite amusing until they realise he IS actually f*ucking like that. It goes without saying that every woman he ever cons into bed, usually leaves the next morning, early and never wants to grace his presence again. We actually rarely see them again which either means he’s also a serial killer or the night of abuse they have just been subjected to has given them a much needed wakeup call.

However, Friday was different, hence my resentment as I’m about to explain.

We’d been in Churchills for about an hour when Len spots an opportunity. It isn’t straight forward though because its 4 young girls (21), one of which gave me her number 6 months ago and I never contacted her. Len’s spotted the prize, which happens to be an attractive friend of theirs, who wouldn’t look twice at Len in any parallel universe but for some reason tonight, he’s having some success following her around, not taking no for an answer. By success, I mean she hasn’t threatened to call the police as yet, which does sometimes happen. She avoids him and she and I talk but her friend, my former reject is watching with interest. I back off to avoid an awkward situation and Len moves in with the second phase of his strategy, dragging her onto the dance floor away from me or any other attractive male! He always settles for the deepest reaches of the dance floor and smoothers his pray like a human anaconda, only allowing her to surface for air for phase three of his strategy, intoxication. An absolutely essential element to his plan is not allowing her anywhere near her friends for the rest of the evening. This would only ruin what he has in stall for her because her friends would talk sense into her. Usually, I’ll not see him again after phase two and once he commences phase four, its all over, the anaconda is about to devour its pray and the process of dragging her into a taxi is a formality due to intoxication. She isn’t allowed to say goodbye to friends for earlier stated reason.

My resentment is over the fact that 1. She is hot. 2. He is disgusting. 3. I’m going home alone to have 1 + 2 rubbed in my f*ucking face. Not to mention the fact that for some reason she’s loving the attention from him and remains in our house all weekend shagging him like a rabbit. He surfaces every couple of hours to brag to me in detail about what they’re doing together and I get the hump and have to go for long walks just to get out of the house.

On top of all that, I tell my ex what has happened and she further ruins my weekend by getting jealous of the girl Len is shagging because I think she’s hot. I really cannot f*ucking win at this point.

Michael