Tis the season to be merry.
So I got to the venue, the big luxury hotel where Hank Scorpio was feting us for Christmas.
There was a lovely choir of schoolchildren singing carols, and a bar for drinks.
They served us coloured champagne at the entrance.
I stood at the bar for fifteen minutes, trying to get a drink, but all the barrack-room suits got in first, because I'm new to the company and I didn't want to tell the cunts to stay out of my fucking way.
Eventually Big Al comes in with the Missus and gets me my drink.
He's okay.
Cool.
Then dinner is announced.
I go and get my roast beef, and sit down, somewhat chaotically (no plan here), with some geezers and their girls.
The one guy goes on and on about how we should be wearing party hats because it's Christmas.
I eat up and fuck off back to the bar before I am tempted to tell the guy what to do with his party hats.
One more beer-they actually serve me this time.
I sit around sipping my beer.
The woman that suddenly started glad-eying me(after being extra-special-insular at work) disappears.
I'm left with half a beer and a mobile phone.
Ten minutes later I'm in a cab, having a cheerful chat about music with the cabbie, on the way back into town.
I make it back to my pad with just enough time to crack a Tetleys tinnie before Ugly Betty.
Score!
Best thing all night.
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2 comments:
That is an excellent story Victor!
I think it would make a nice christmas card inner story.
You could send them to all the "cunt" at the bar!
Keep up the good work sir.
Hey Dude, you never did tell me if Wacko Jacko coughed up the disk I meant to give you.
I can always put something together and set it to the Publishers.
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