(retrieved from old blogs now closed down)
Oh, the boy’s still got it going on!
It is becoming something of a tradition for me to make like a mentalist on one of the last weekends before Xmas. I try to make it happen as near to the Winter Solstice as possible.
Though those of you who know me only from Blog world will no doubt think me as morose, somewhat psychotic, solitary, and possibly dangerous, I can assure you this is only half the story. There is within, something of a people person, who loves to have a good time and bring joy to the world for all to share.
And so it was, Friday was my chosen day for Operation Xmas Marathon Mayhem to begin. Scheduled to last 3 days and nights.
It started rather splendidly with a free guest entry + 1 into The Damned at Islington Academy. The support act, which I might normally try to drink my way through, consisted of 4 ladies playing some good rock, calling themselves The Priscilla’s. The singer’s cat suit and pert buttocks had me spellbound throughout. Fantastico! Then the boys came on, and sink me if I didn’t spend most the entire gig bouncing with the best of them in the mosh pit.
Apart from a near broken nose and leg injury, the near 40 year old body seemed to perform much like it did back in the days when it performed. I guess it was partly fuelled by the knowledge that this really may well be one of the last times I ever get to see my favourite band of all time, as they are knocking on a bit too.
I departed on the last song as I had stage 2 of the marathon to attend to. Down to The Cross Bar in Kings Cross, a notoriously uptight-in-the-security-dept club. Whereupon yet another guest entry was supposed to be waiting for me.
Quel surprise! It wasn’t.
But being the ligger of the century back in the day I discovered the silver tongue hadn’t completely rusted up, and after a short period of freezing my fucking bollocks off I managed to get in to see the DJ, Boy Dave, who had my ticket....in his pocket...great. Not a lot of good it was doing me there! But I got in. The night rocked with dance music and was full to the brim with lovely ladies. Which should really have been taken advantage of except...Lee had turned up.
Lee is the man who wears psychedelic rooster hats at festivals and scares children because he is madder than them, and has more energy. Lee also has a habit. Lee’s habit pretty quickly became my habit. Which was only supposed to be a small one, but he had devised a cunning way to proffer it into the hand, and up the nose while still dancing, kind of in the way one might feed a horse. Something he did to me a few times too often. The end result was good for a while, then as usual, it went down hill and the cocaine badger started snuffling for truffles, and lost interest in much anything else. The moment that really actually quite hurts to recall now, was when he had passed me an envelope because it was getting too soggy to toot on the dance floor, and I was fighting my way through the packed crowd to the toilet. It went like this...
Single queue files moving in both directions. I am in the left lane. Toilet in sight in the distance. Some smelly shirted body in front of me keeps stopping mid shuffle, and I bash into him in my eagerness to shuffle to the toilet fast.
I Look over his shoulder.
Ray of sunlight appears god-like shining down on this blonde haired absolute top of the range beauty heading my way in the other lane.
Heart starts going mental.
Eyes are not un-meeting.
We are going to pass, and we are both smiling, and it is going on.
Reach said girl, both queues pushing in opposite directions
We both know this is going to be brief and we have to get it right.
‘Hi how you doing’ I say as she reaches my position.
‘Hello you? ‘ she says. Just those words melted me. Oh my god I am in L.O.V.E!
‘You know anyone with anything I can get here?’ she says.
And this is where the badger started up for a second.
Badger: If you say yes then you are going to have to share
Me: you fucker, look at her, LOOK AT HER! She is heaven in female form
Badger: Ok, go talk to her, see what happens when I wear off. You wont be talking much then will you?
Me: you furry rodent cunt I hate you.
Badger: toilet, now, I want to hurt you.
And so it was as The Goddess moved along out of reach my final words were;
‘Sorry I don’t know anyone’
She even gave me a beseeching look of regret that said – I didn’t really want drugs I just wanted to talk to you, then get naked, then have your babies when you felt the time was right and look after you in old age while giving you blow jobs on demand until we leave to live in Heaven for all eternity.
I went to the toilet and went down to the pits of hell, alone. Well, escorted by a badger obviously.
Of course it all went wrong at this point. To make a long story short I was planning to leave the club at 2am latest and get home to sleep a bit before Stage 3 of the Marathon began. Instead I was still hanging about outside trying to find Lee to share a cab with at 5am. He eventually showed up and we made it home. 45 quid for a cab mind you. My wallet was now empty.
But there is one rule about Marathon Mayhem and it is this;
Spend every last penny without a care, do it for glory and the celebration of life while you can.
I slept maybe 1 hour and then was woken by a phone call from Nev at 11am to go to stage 3. My face was caked in dribbly coke come that was oozing out of my nose in my sleep. The badger was doing a dance in my brain with sharpened claws and I felt beyond shit in so many ways.
But I got up.
Made it half way to the train station.
Stopped in a pub, sank a bloody mary, and made it the rest of the way to meet Nev on the platform at midday.
Xmas dinner with friends. There is nothing like it. 12 of us in a pub every xmas getting pissed and setting fire to things. Except this year some have had kids and the conversation down that end of the table was about babies and mortgages. It wasn’t exactly the hot bed of mayhem stage 3 was supposed to be. To make it worse I had chosen a seat near a newcomer who I didn’t know.
Me and Nevster started in on the drinking.
At least I had one compadre who would be a mess along with me by the end of it.
I decided to introduce myself to the newcomer, since we would be sharing dinner talk for the next hour or two,
‘Hi I am Mark, how you doing?’
‘Hi I am Ben, what do you do for a living?’
‘I work in IT , I get drunk and take copious amounts of drugs in my spare time, and you?’
‘I am a police officer’
There was, as you can imagine, something of a pregnant silence at this point.
In fairness he didn’t bat an eyelid and didn’t try to arrest me for the duration of dinner. In fact weirdly, he kept following me and Nev out to the garden to smoke and seemed intent on being our best mate. We didn’t want to put him off the idea as it seemed not a bad thing to have a friend in the law dept, especially since he was working cell duty over Xmas in a London station that could well see me and the Nevster booked in for a short stay sometime over the coming week. Even so when he left, it was with something of a relief and I noticed a snicker or two coming from the other end of the table,
‘You fucking knew he was a cop didn’t you!’ I said.
Sure enough they had not missed the opportunity to put Satan’s puppy in with a Guardian of the Establishment to watch the ensuing communication difficulties. Lucky for me I had cottoned on so early else I might have dug a far deeper hole.
Dinner consumed, cops evaded, port and cigars quaffed, it was time to rouse the flagging drunken bodies, all wearing Xmas hats, to action. Yes folks it called for Bowling and Karaoke! Of course it did. Stands to reason surely.
So off we went to the basement of Tavistock Hotel in the centre of London where strangely there exists 6 bowling lanes, a bar stocked with fine ales, and karaoke booths. It is a wonderfully crazy world really.
I have only vague recollections of events but there were such things as people making like bowling balls and 12 insane over aged revellers singing Tiffany songs and falling off tables. I stole away from the proceedings for the last train and made it home, but not before I gave them a rousing rendition of INXS - Never Tear us Apart.
Stage 5 will be finalised tonight when I try to seduce/rape/pewk on as many stuck up office girls as I can at the works xmas party.
I feel ready to do business.
Then Operation Mayhem Marathon will be at a close, and I suspect may go down in history as something of a success.
He makes it in , still holding the baton, with a limp, a bedraggled refrain and ...a flashing santa hat...but my god if he isnt smiling. How does he do it we ask ourselves? The crowd is on it’s feet now. Applause can be heard the length of the stadium as he falls face down over the finish line.
I rolled into the Planit Marquee in Embankment at about 4pm. Suited and booted and feeling pretty fucking dapper it has to be said. It seemed I was the only person out of 900 to remember it was actually xmas and had bought a Santa hat to celebrate the fact. A flashing fluffy one too. Splendidly out of place somehow amidst the throng of office retards, but frankly my dear...I didnt give a damn. It also seemed to work something like a peacocks tail in attracting female attention, which was fine by me.
The company had decided to hold a staff meeting for the first hour and half which came as an unpleasant surprise most especially when self and Boy Dave discovered we were without table, and thus were made to sit at the front.
Scary I tell thee.
900 people behind you, bright lights and giant powerpoint presentations but a foot in front, and Neo-Hitler type personalities ranting and spitting corporate vitriol from the make shift stage, doth not a good company party make.
I managed to figure out a way to sleep though; if I leant into my chair at a side angle, with my hand leaning on the back and covering half of my face. Then the people to either side, and the orator, could only see one eye at a time. This way I assumed they would think I had but one eye closed. Cunning, I thought, until afterwards when someone pointed out my head kept lolling off the chair. Hmmm.
I wont bore you with the details of the hour and a half speeches because I slept through most of it, but the things I caught were usual corporate spin. Giant graphs showing a decrease from Jan to December. Conveniently meaning we couldnt get much of a Xmas bonus again this year. The particularly odd one was when the God CEO type person called Brian decided to show us a slide of things he hated.
Who the fuck did he think was interested?
900 other people in that room hated just one thing, and that was him.
Anyway presentation over, out of chair, first to the bar, Santa hat on.
Lights on Santa hat set to stun.
It was all pretty run of the mill to be honest. I wish I could write something about molesting 3 girls from accounts while snorting coke and running through parks naked, then waking up on a bench with a cop saying ‘hello hello hello’, but it really was all quite sedate. Yea I drank like a fish, and copped a feel, and a few promises of dirty office sex, but other than that, boring to be honest.
Home to bed.
Operation Xmas Marathon Mayhem is officially at close.