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Friday, February 29, 2008

Old Skool

I've spoke to you before of Drunken Parachute, yes? This is going into the room at the beginning of the night and spying a guy who's just on the wrong side of being attractive to you. The drink will flow, your eyes will start to get a little bit gimlet, and the very second that you're drunk enough to think 'you know, in a certain light and if he lost the beer belly...' that is the moment you bail out of there like a child abuser from Jersey.

I hadn't done old skool drinking in a long time. It was a BBC corporate event, themed like a rock night so each table came with a pile of silver space wigs, glowing microphones, nasty white wine and a centerpiece that everyone was threatening to nick. With the wigs and the wine, come midnight it was like looking out over a RAH Band video. And that was the moment the free vodka bar opened and they started playing '9 to 5' on the dancefloor.

I don't remember much else after that, clearly. I do recall being on the dance floor and some guy from the next office bumping into me. He said something about all the girls I was dancing with (office gays dancing with an entourage of girls from Finance? Who'd have thought!) and I nodded, and then he said something else which I didn't hear but gave him one of those non-committal 'yeah!'s you do when you don't really hear but want to sound positive. And then he looked at me like I'd offered to rape him with a spiked bowling ball and went and moved off the dancefloor at speed. I wonder what he'd said...

And it was about 3am that my Parachute almost failed to deploy; I recall a weird and sudden imperative to hang around with (ie try and pull) one of the execs. Well, he seemed very friendly. Like he'd never turn out a friend, a stranger, or a four course meal by the look of him. Fortunately I got steered away by another colleague to help him drink a round of champagne.

And that's when it goes a bit black, I have to say.

I awoke at 9am, face down on the floor of my hotel room, fully clothed, silver wig askew and a carpet burn on my face from where I'd landed. Which was a shame as it was a five-star room and I recall from my traditional new-room-bounce-on-the-bed-throw-the-Gideons-bible-out-the-window arrival that it was quite comfy. And so, with all the grace of two epileptics sharing a bowl of noodles, I arose, collected my things and headed to work. Yesterday was not a good day. I spent most of it shaking like a shitting dog.

And let that be a lesson for you. Have a good weekend.

5 comments:

Tim said...

They spent my license fee money on silver space wigs and glowing microphones!?

Outrageous!

Unless, of course, I get invited to the next one, in which case shall I wear a tie or just go open neck?

Lee said...

'open neck' is certainly a good description of how I was drinking, Tim darling.

Kezza said...

Open neck is quite a handy skill to have, or so I've heard.

Honestly Lee, one again I have tears of laughter strolling down my face and some of my co-workers think I may have busted a valve trying to stiffle my laughter.

The shaking dog alanogy takes the cake though - I've had days like that. Not pretty let me tell you! My heart goes out to you, along with something deep-fried. I find thats usually pretty helpful!

Tim said...

Well, if there was a free vodka bar it would've been rude not to!

Especially as I was paying for it.

Qenny said...

I have tears in my eyes as a result of the epileptics/noodles thing.

Oh, you are a one.