Johnston's liquid beef / Friendly firemen
So...... Friday
Yes, it was indeed nice to depart from the student ghetto that is Fallowfield and absorb the rustic jollities of Rossendale. The old house at home IS the best pub located in the area stretching from Waterfoot to Haslingden centre (It can't beat the pub in Hasy where you can smoke a nice spliff. Forgotten the bloody name of it now though) and from Burnley to Ramsbottom. It was good to see 1312, his good lady + the Ward Clan, albeit in bereaved sprits. JohnJOpo made a strong case for hitting QUBE, the local Rawtenstall club above a pub that was formerly known as 'Stickies.' He made various claims and promises, many of which proved false as the place was practically empty with only one other dance floor occupant, a thirty odd year old guy going on a bit of a hands in the air, "crazy" spectacle to the Dance/Trance music.
He seemed a bit disgusted when I made certain substance enquiries.
We quickly drank our drinks and made our way to the rhythm station, the classier, more popular of Rawtenstall's thriving 2 club scene. Another big up today goes to JohnJOpo for paying me into both clubs and purchasing my drinks. ** There is also a potentially giant favour in the pipeline coming my way which will be revealed when and if it is successful. Exciting news though my friends. **
So, I was dancing to R+B/pop style music giving it my best shot when I saw a bit of a scuff developing over to my right. All I knew was that it involved:
1) A tall, fat, sweaty, stereotypical blue shirt wearing man with glasses and a scared look on his face
2) A shorter yet harder looking angry white shirt wearing man doing most of the shouting and demanding that a fight should take place
3)An Australian hat complete with dangling corks.
They were both fighting over ownership of this hat....................
'bout 10 minutes later I'm taking a breather whilst remaining perched on the dance floor. Scarier, harder looking white shirt guy comes over to me, leans in and menacingly states into my ear,
"You're too cool to dance."
My first reaction was fear, then adrenaline style trying to talk my way out of it. The best I could manage was feebly saying, 'I've been dancing all night, i'm not cool.'
"You're too cool to dance"
At this point I can detect a watered down, scouse accent which increases the panic ever so slightly.
Come with me he says and we go to some empty seats to sort out our differences.
Turns out he was being....... genuine... as strange as it sounds. Said I looked like someone out of a programme called the OC (never seen it) and when he saw me he'd had a strange urge to chat because he "really wanted to be friends with someone that looked like me." Kept apologising, saying he wasn't gay etc and that he couldn't explain it. He did seem to snigger when he said about the OC but he was a sound guy who bought me two drinks!. Fireman as well and we exchanged numbers.
I was wearing my black, woolish stlye smart pants with grey stripes and a horizontally red striped quite tight tee shirt that looks a bit scallyish. Weirdish experience anyway.
So...... Saturday
I had arranged to meet Artblu in a local scream pub to watch the WBA V. Manchester City game. I'm an honourary blues fan, this is my first season but I do own my own shirt that I got for Christmas. Arrived forty five minutes before game commenced and things were going well until we went down 1-0 within the first five minutes. This turned out to be my bad karma, apparently and because I wasn't a true fan but was wearing a shirt. Lots of things were my fault especially as she got drunker, louder and more aggressive with every passing minute. Ok, WBA are a shite team, bottom of the league and it was very frustrating to be losing to them but ARTBLU was going flippin insane. Screaming, shouting at full volme at the screen in a pub with only 2 other people plus bar staff present. ViceMolRoy joined towards the end and a sort of argument ensued between me and Artblu because she had worked herself up into tears over nonsensical clap trap. This climaxed with her smacking me, full pelt in the face (my jaw still hurts) running of saying she never wanted to speak to me again. Frickin Horrible day. She went back to Bury and so me and Vice went to the student mansion. Got a text later saying she was sorry, I know I'll forgive her and vice versa. Of course we'll be friends. Still fuckd me off though the hurtful things she was saying and assaulting me. I still love her as my best friend though.
I discovered that when Bovril was first invented it was called 'Johnston's fluid beef' haha.
I'm going to try and upload a photo from my digital camera, hoping it will work. If it does, please note, none are photo shopped!
gezing
Yes, it was indeed nice to depart from the student ghetto that is Fallowfield and absorb the rustic jollities of Rossendale. The old house at home IS the best pub located in the area stretching from Waterfoot to Haslingden centre (It can't beat the pub in Hasy where you can smoke a nice spliff. Forgotten the bloody name of it now though) and from Burnley to Ramsbottom. It was good to see 1312, his good lady + the Ward Clan, albeit in bereaved sprits. JohnJOpo made a strong case for hitting QUBE, the local Rawtenstall club above a pub that was formerly known as 'Stickies.' He made various claims and promises, many of which proved false as the place was practically empty with only one other dance floor occupant, a thirty odd year old guy going on a bit of a hands in the air, "crazy" spectacle to the Dance/Trance music.
He seemed a bit disgusted when I made certain substance enquiries.
We quickly drank our drinks and made our way to the rhythm station, the classier, more popular of Rawtenstall's thriving 2 club scene. Another big up today goes to JohnJOpo for paying me into both clubs and purchasing my drinks. ** There is also a potentially giant favour in the pipeline coming my way which will be revealed when and if it is successful. Exciting news though my friends. **
So, I was dancing to R+B/pop style music giving it my best shot when I saw a bit of a scuff developing over to my right. All I knew was that it involved:
1) A tall, fat, sweaty, stereotypical blue shirt wearing man with glasses and a scared look on his face
2) A shorter yet harder looking angry white shirt wearing man doing most of the shouting and demanding that a fight should take place
3)An Australian hat complete with dangling corks.
They were both fighting over ownership of this hat....................
'bout 10 minutes later I'm taking a breather whilst remaining perched on the dance floor. Scarier, harder looking white shirt guy comes over to me, leans in and menacingly states into my ear,
"You're too cool to dance."
My first reaction was fear, then adrenaline style trying to talk my way out of it. The best I could manage was feebly saying, 'I've been dancing all night, i'm not cool.'
"You're too cool to dance"
At this point I can detect a watered down, scouse accent which increases the panic ever so slightly.
Come with me he says and we go to some empty seats to sort out our differences.
Turns out he was being....... genuine... as strange as it sounds. Said I looked like someone out of a programme called the OC (never seen it) and when he saw me he'd had a strange urge to chat because he "really wanted to be friends with someone that looked like me." Kept apologising, saying he wasn't gay etc and that he couldn't explain it. He did seem to snigger when he said about the OC but he was a sound guy who bought me two drinks!. Fireman as well and we exchanged numbers.
I was wearing my black, woolish stlye smart pants with grey stripes and a horizontally red striped quite tight tee shirt that looks a bit scallyish. Weirdish experience anyway.
So...... Saturday
I had arranged to meet Artblu in a local scream pub to watch the WBA V. Manchester City game. I'm an honourary blues fan, this is my first season but I do own my own shirt that I got for Christmas. Arrived forty five minutes before game commenced and things were going well until we went down 1-0 within the first five minutes. This turned out to be my bad karma, apparently and because I wasn't a true fan but was wearing a shirt. Lots of things were my fault especially as she got drunker, louder and more aggressive with every passing minute. Ok, WBA are a shite team, bottom of the league and it was very frustrating to be losing to them but ARTBLU was going flippin insane. Screaming, shouting at full volme at the screen in a pub with only 2 other people plus bar staff present. ViceMolRoy joined towards the end and a sort of argument ensued between me and Artblu because she had worked herself up into tears over nonsensical clap trap. This climaxed with her smacking me, full pelt in the face (my jaw still hurts) running of saying she never wanted to speak to me again. Frickin Horrible day. She went back to Bury and so me and Vice went to the student mansion. Got a text later saying she was sorry, I know I'll forgive her and vice versa. Of course we'll be friends. Still fuckd me off though the hurtful things she was saying and assaulting me. I still love her as my best friend though.
I discovered that when Bovril was first invented it was called 'Johnston's fluid beef' haha.
I'm going to try and upload a photo from my digital camera, hoping it will work. If it does, please note, none are photo shopped!
gezing
posted by Swedophilia at 7:27 PM
1 Comments:
ahh football. a sport for wolly woofters.
netball. now thats a mans sport.
"ViceMolRoy" lol I like the new name for the good general (molroy).
As for pictures - I dont know what blog spot gives you in terms of pictures, but I can probably host some pictures for you mate
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