The celtic nights and celtic frights
I am literally dead today,
I can’t think, I can’t breathe, I can’t move and I can’t even eat. I can’t concentrate I actually threw food away. A tiny meal which I could have consumed in a single hoover maneuver completely defeated me.
And it’s all because I have fallen out with one of my best friends. Sleep
I am a natural night owl and I hate mornings. I have had the luxury of never really having to get up early for any previous employment for a long period of time.
With this it generally meant that I would be able to get up at a slightly later time than most. Also living near to work, it also means that I didn’t have to do any sort of serious commuting. This allowed me to explore the depths of my own necronomic state.
But I just can’t hack having to get up early (not ridiculously early but early never the less) and get into work, doing an eleven hour complete commute and then do my normal night shift.
And what’s worse, is I have the world’s most evil cat to put up with who secretes juices which want to kill me in the slowest most horrible way possible.
The body simply can’t hack it but even though I can sleep early, I don’t want to live that insular commuting working lifestyle where I am just coming home to eat/sleep/wash and that’s it.
But then there are only a couple of days a week I can handle this, and then what happens is that it all ends up catching up with me when it comes to the weekend and Then I miss out on my entire Saturday. Even when I do wake up, the stupid tilt of the earth and it’s current position on it’s orbit of the sun means that it will probably only have about 2 seconds of daylight before it all goes pete tong and dark, then I don’t particularly feel like doing crumbs instead of just sleeping again, wowweeeeeeeee.
So anyway this brings me on to another point
Yesterday I had my first night out in Aberdeen and it was brutal.
I was invited out by one of my female housemates to meet her friends for a quiet night.
As I walk in to this nice establishment I see a group of them sitting with about 20 odd glasses of vodka and coke on the table. Quiet was certainly going out of the window now but I really didn’t want to indulge, my vodka drinking days were behind me, anyone who knows me will surely have heard me go on about one vodka filled escapade back in the day, which involved
• A naive twat
• A pint glass
• A litre and a half of vodka
• Half a litre of archers
• A ‘this stuff has no effect’ bewildered youngling
• A comatosed corpse in the space of half an hour
• 6 people carrying said corpse home, leaving him on the doorstep and running away
• A concerned exchanged student/teacher from Canada
• An abuse session by my younger peers
• An apparent stripping
• A reflex natural defence mechanism to the stripping
• A whole bunch of carpet nicely redecorated
• An ambulance
• An phonecall home telling my brothers I was potentially dead
• A glucose injection
• A rabid attack on staff which required six people to hold me down
• A bed wet session.
• A random stroll bed wet session
• A random ‘where the hell am I’ walk in a hospital robe while wired up to all sorts and a customary ‘pee all over the bloody place’ tipple
• And a disapproving look from the older bro
• And the world’s greatest cover up to make sure my parents never found out
• And a contract with uncle vodka that both of us would go our separate ways but still keep in touch on facebook.
Being the mature tunker that I am, I move to the bar and decide that I will instead get myself a pint of a nice beer. I then notice that all the bar staff are serving these vodka and cokes to pretty much everyone in bucket loads and I didn’t understand why
So the guy beside me ends up getting two, and I catch the bar staff saying something like 1.30 something, and I just block it out as insignificant. Then the bar man goes to pick up my newly drummed finished pint and without any sort of comedy in his voice say.
That’ll be £4.20
Now, this isn’t London matey and if I’m paying 4.20 for a pint, there better be a gold plated vagina at the bottom of it (and I’m pretty sure when I checked, there was no such thing in mine).
So as I am wandering back from the bar, everyone is steering at me and my pint, like it is the holy grail and they have never seen such a thing before, they are clearly in the know about something that I have either completely overlooked or yet to be informed about.
Then the buggers inform me that the mixer and cokes from a Thursday to a Sunday are 69p.
SIXTY NINE PEEEEEEEEE!!!!!
I’ve never had an alcoholic beverage that cheap. Never. Never.
Next time round, I ditched my robe of maturity and I got a round of 18 shots for just over 12 quid.,
And people wonder why Scotland is full of alcoholics…
The only downside to this predicament is that the establishment is (as you can imagine) notorious for getting in a student crowd during the week, so it is literally chocker block with spotty young gelled haired people younger than gameboy and infant girls who think a ‘ninja turtle’ is the guy from enoutrage (TRUE STORY).
Anywho, regardless of the asinine time my mind is having and now thoroughly inebriated (as you can imagine, my wallet is now happy and we decide to hit a club, which is nice because it’s also free entry (this is just nuts) and it’s a pretty nice establishment, close to mine called the Korova bar (nice bar over two floors, bottom floor converts to a club later on in the evening)
But it’s a uber cheesy night, UBER cheesy. But cheese is fine, at this moment in time, I haven’t had a boogy in a long time, so anything will suffice.
And you get all the cheesy songs, Macarena, Saturday night, Venga boys stuff, 1000 miles walking, the usual faff.
SO you come to the end of the night and at pretty much all the venues I know they will play Robbie Williams, millennium, or Frank Sinatra’s new York new York, maybe some take that ‘never forget’, or if it’s seasonal a Christmas cheer or something along those nights.
So I’m getting geared up for the huddle around in a big circle song and they cut to this
You know what the worst thing is???
And the crowd goes absolutely mental oriental for it.
I literally went from pissed out of my eyeballs, to dead sober to utterly flabbergasted
What the hell are they doing, it was like when Ross is looking through his window in friend’s and he sees chandler and his sister ‘doing it’’
GET OFF MY SINATRA!!!
(with some form of hindsight I manged to find out why they played that on this wiki page but for the benefit of the story, ignore it http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Bonnie_Banks_o’_Loch_Lomond )
and I literally realized that I wasn’t alone, there were like six people in the entire club who looked like they didn’t know what the hell was going on. Dare I say if I was anymore paranoid, I would have thought it was the Scottish national party trying to assassinate all the foreigners by getting them royally sloshsed and then finding them by looking for the gooseberries in all the clubs, then assassinating them in a bludgeoney celtic festive death.
So after all the huddles and the clapping, I was told by my friend that it’s just what you do.
I suppose we should start eating heads of chickens and flossing with shit as well eh?
First it starts with this, then it’ll be getting rid of Mariah carrey’s ‘all I want for Christmas’ and replacing it with the ras c Nesbit theme tune. Next thing you know you’ll be singing some turdy scottish song no one knows the words to at New Fucking year while your arms are crossed and linked like turnips and your head of state won’t have a scooby doo what the hell is going on
Not on my watch sunshine, not on my watch…
Is that what my tax money is deciding when they’ve got their own parliament?
I say those scots have gotten to big for their boots, nuke em, I say, Nuke em to fucking kingdom come (except for the hot ladies with glasweigian accents, they can stay).
You can clearly tell i’ve become delusion from the lack of Zzzzzss in my diet. I’m going to get some shut eye under my desk at work now.
Don’t tell a soul.
If anyone asks, I’m off to fucking Loch Lonmond..