April 7th, 2006
Categories: Uncategorized

Lies, Lies, All Lies!

 

“Lies!” Tilesey exlcaimed in the last post, “You have been to a strip club.”, refferring to a statement made in my last post

He’s right you know.

Why did I deny it? Well, I couldn’t say that I have, what with mum reading this blog. I’m amazing son #1 in her eyes at the moment (she did love that post, though she was a bit miffed that all the comments were directed to how amazing I was, as opposed to how amazing she was), and I don’t want her to think that I frequent those places.

Nevertheless, I was young, I was foolish, and Rick admitted to me he’s been to one too.

September 11th 2004. You generally don’t forget a date like that. I was about to start my third year in university, and was slowly developing friendships that will last a lifetime. It was at a pub that I talked to Guy:-

“I’m Virgo intact.”
“Really?!”
“Really.”
“So you’ve never seen a girl in the nude?”
“Yeah.”
“At 20?”
“Yeah.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Naaaah.”
“Yeah.”
“Naaaah.”
“Yeah.”
“Naaaah.”

Bless him, he ain’t no Hitch, so he couldn’t really do anything about me getting…errr…Hitched (though another one of my mates, with a comment of “Just snog him, please, to shut him up” to Sarah, could be described as a matchmaker. Though that’s another story for another time), so a plan was baked.

It involved X in the City, some VIP passes, all the Lads in the bowling club, and about £50.

The first – and only – “Lads Night” was born.

You see, the year was so full of promise, my final year in university – and whilst it was the best – the night set out to prove it to be better. We started in X In The City where – despite the prescence of ladies jiggily bits – we took vantage by the fruit machine. We settled down with Fosters (the cheapest lager at £3 a pint), and pumped a few quid into the fruit machine. All the time, we were hounded by dancers, and Skinny (one of the group) headed off with one of the strippers for a private dance for 60 quid. 60 quid! Christ, there’s only so much you can see. Eventually, my housemates persuaded me to have a dance (“We’re the only reason we’re here”, they said. Thanks for that.). I got taken to a quiet corner by a girl calling herself “The Green Goddess”. Because she was ‘wearing’ (in the loosest sense of the word) green, not because she was a fire engine, for adult entertainment. The boys saw me from a vantage point, and later said “you seemed to be enjoying it.”.

Seemed maybe. But in truth I was scared to death.

You see, no part of the fine British education system can prepare you for that. Sure, we had sex education, but they got the video’s mixed up, and all I learnt was to how to put on/in a tampon. Even if we did watch the right video, I can bet that whoever presented said “If you should ever visit a place which your mother doesn’t want you to go, and have two bazongas stareing you in the face, this is how to act”.

Ten minutes later, with a look of both absolute delight and absolute fear, I emerged, £10 worse off. I sat down, almost had a heart attack. It was there we noticed somebody.

“That Justin from Hollyoaks?”

Sure enough, it was the drug smoking, porn buying, teacher knobbing Justin. Surrounded by two girls, one of which being The Green Goddess. I felt cheated, and even less comfortable with my surroundings. It was then that Chris (the only one of the group married) made the startling observation.

“You’re in a strip club. Women are walking around topless. And you’re transfixed by a male character from a shite soap? I worry about you guys.

We left.

In other news: Ally has infected me with the indie virus. The indie virus works by each member of the chain infecting the blogs they like with the indie virus. However they must use the words the indie virus to infect, otherwise the indie virus doesn’t work. Also, large blogs are immune to the indie virus, so it targets smaller bloggers, which are easily infected with the indie virus. Please pass the indie virus on. Go on, it’s better than bird flu.

More information (plus a link to the fantastic technorati tag generator in the comments, spammed by yours truly) here.

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