17/09/07
What to do -
Categories: I'm bored again. The problem with bored is that it perpetuates itself. Being bored doesn't lead to free time to be creative, it just leads to more bored. Because the things you find to do when you're bored are usually boring. Because if you could find something to do that wasn't boring, you wouldn't be bored.
Apple tea
in Napoli
is nice for me
I have never been to Napoli.
Turkish apple tea is not even tea. It's just sugar and apple flavour. It should be called 'Turkish apple sugar drink'
Which would be
icki turkce elmali ve sekerli
I think.
I have tummy ache from too many apples
And backache from dancing
And toothache from tooth death
And a headache from too much tea
And heartache
At the state of the world
It was our engagement party on Saturday. We hired a bar, it was fun, until at about midnight, the owner's son turned up with 50 absolute twats all dressed in durham university rugger bugger blazers and ties. Didn't really fit with our 1950's rock n roll theme, and proceeded to cause much aggravation and hilarity as Nick and my cousin went about threatening to punch the 'f#ck*ing w@nkers" who had invaded our party, and several of my friends went about exploting the drink-buying possibilities of the posh rich boys.
My favourite moment was when, towards the end of the night, we were trying to convince one of them to give us their tie, which, oddly, they weren't prepared to exchange for a pint (why would you be so keen to keep a nasty durham university tie instead of some beer?)
Don't ask me why we wanted a tie so much, it seemed like a funny idea at the time...
And I said, to a fine specimen named Ivan, "Come on, with a name like Ivan you're not exactly poor, you can afford to give me your tie"
He looked incredulous and refused to give up the tie.
"Come on!" i said, "Daddy wasn't born on a council estate, now was he"
To which he exclaimed, in the poshest voice imaginable,
"My FATHER is from BIRMINGHAM!"
As if Birmingham is somehow shorthand for being poor.
"He was born in BIRMINGHAM in 1920!"
As if his father being almost 90 made a difference to his social class.
Poor Ivan with the 87 year old father. He had pain behind his eyes.
I told him he should work in the theatre, which with retrospect probably sounded like I was calling him gay.
And there was another 'hilarious' man wearing a 'hilarious' jester hat (you know the ones that people get in a 'buy fun here' shop along with hen-night outfits and green afro wigs)
He asked if we liked his hat and I said,
"Can i be honest? I don't like your hat".
I tried to say it in a cheeky, piss-taking way. He wasn't amused.
I didn't see why he should be so offended, so decided to continue being rude.
"Was it a choice between being bummed by a paedophile or wearing the hat?"
I asked merrily.
He still didn't look amused.
When he turned round, I noticed he had a hole in his trousers in the exact position of his bumhole.
Evidently he'd had to wear the hat whilst being bummed by a paedophile.
These poor posh boys, you've got to feel sorry for them really.
Incidentally the paedophile in question was with them as well. A fat old bearded man hanging around with a bunch of boys in their 20s at midnight on a Saturday night definitely isn't a normal student / teacher relationship.
Although I think I mentioned my idea that he was a paedophile rather too loud, several times, whilst he was in close proximity. Poor fat paedophile. Even his mother doesn't love him.
I'm either extremely annoying and rude or utterly hilarious when I'm drunk.
But these people had no sense of humour! I kept taking the piss out of them (in a cheeky, non-aggressive way) and instead of responding with the usual light-hearted merriment I am accustomed to, they just got extremely offended. Their simple inbred minds just couldn't cope.
"Papa, someone is ridiculing me! Mwaaa!!"
I'm sorry, it's terrible social stereotyping I know, but I've literally never seen so many of them in one room before. It was like being at the zoo.
And really, if you don't want people to treat you like you're a twat, why go out in central london on a saturday night in matching suits, white shirts and school ties?
Why would you do that?
And more importantly, why would you do that and then crash someone's engagement party just because one of your little bum-buddies is the manager's son?
We got our money back in any case, so I was more amused than annoyed. And a good time was had by all, I think.
My friend said his favourite posh-boy quote of the evening was,
"Timothy, get me a Stella Artois, I'm off for a dirt"
Genius.
Better go, work to do now (I've finished being bored).
R x
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