I completed my task for lent: 40 days and 40 nights without gambling any of my money, so that has made me proud. I was expecting to write a post that said “I’ve done 40 days, lets see how long I can last now.”
Well, I know that. 51 minutes.
See, Broadway Boulevard is like Marmite: you either love it or hate it. I’ll be honest, I hate the place. Once every six months is more than enough. The fact that the music is terrible, the fact that even the “cheesey” songs have a drum and bass line to it, the fact that – hell – Phil Collins’ shite “Against All Odds” has a drum and bass line added to it, the fact that it’s dropped it’s prices to Â£5.50 (though, incidentally, a pint of Stella is Â£2.60, a whole 30p cheaper than my local), but the main fact is something which bothers me.
Despite claims that the Broadway Crowd is “Mental”, it’s actually rather shit.
Take Nuts a few weeks ago. They frequented Broadway to get ladies to take their clothes off. They get this one girl who looked a bit like Pete Burns, who had no concept with the process of “flirting”.
Turns out, half the women in that nightclub also do.
I’ll be honest, I’m a shite flirt. I’m shite at going upto people and just generally chatting. Sure, around people I know, I put in a innuendistic comment here and there, and people seem to genuinely respond. But there is no harm in it – as nobody would want to see me naked. Hell, I don’t want to see me naked. It’s not pretty.
Nevertheless, I was strutting my stuff on the dancefloor last night, where I had a tap on my shoulder.
I turned around. She was short, she was around sixteen, she looked like a fucking oompah loompah, she was that orange. First thought that crossed my mind was “fuck it, I’m going through a dry patch”, though she did put my mind at rest.
“If you were thinking about coming up to me, you have no chance. You’re an ugly cunt.”
Christ, don’t hold back love.
The cheeky fucking bitch. Here’s this woman, who is orange, short, and has boobs smaller than the average mosquito bite, and she’s calling me ugly? Christ on a bike man, that’s just cruel! I know this seems like I’m trying to get sympathy (and in some ways I am, I’m fucking hungover), but is anybody that hidious looking that you go upto them, as a complete stranger, and tell them that even if they were the last human alive, you wouldn’t shag them? It’s just impolite.
I shouldn’t of let it got to me, but it was 12:51am, on Easter Sunday, and I grabbed the only person available at the time who does gamble, and he watched me stick my money in the fruit machine.
I lost Â£3.
C’est la vie.
In other news, I’m having a bad case of hay fever. My dog licks me whenever I sneeze. I sneeze more after lickage. It’s a vicious (and a rather snotty) circle.