#4

Well that week was pretty cool.

Last night was The Big Night Downunder, for all the Ozzies, Kiwis and Saffers living in London to get pissed, bet on dogs and make arses of themselves. I was selling tickets outside with Ben and a couple of other dudes in the bloody freezing weather - worth the cash though!

I'm not sure if anyone's heard of the Clapham Grand nightclub, but as in any blog post, a story must be told!

It's quite a prestigious place, absolutely massive. We lined up - I got passed the first bouncer (who, 5 minutes earlier tripped over a man who spat on another patron), the second one asked who I was 'vith' (a Russian, I presume) - I told him a few friends - he booted me out because I wasn't 21.

Anywho, a friend who happens to have friends in high places (that being the clubs night manager) got us in 10 minutes later. I walk in the door, my Igor friend stopped me again as the others had gone ahead. His boss let me in, and he was not happy. Poor Igor, maybe next time.

We walked through this secret curtain thing, and the manager asks us
"You know, Christiano Ronaldo? His girlfriend is here tonight, she finds it hard to dance with her top on".

I was agog at this statement, however you'll be disappointed to know that no such half-naked lady joined our company! Perhaps it was a bum steer, or she forgot. Who knows.


True story, happened to me.

Goodnight world.