Good times, good times.
Monday 21 May 2007
A night, dare I say it, of silliness.
First of all, Jabba had a chronic toothache and literally didn't say anything for the first couple of hours (post: "I've got a really bad toothache.") Now, Jabba is one of those people who never takes any pain medicine like ever. And I mean, never, never ever. He doesn't drink either. It's like his personal Samurai code. Tonight, however, that shit must have hurt pretty bad, as he was popping back ibuprofen, paracetamol, Strepsols and even fucking Bonjela to ease the pain. And of course if you never take anything it doesn't take much to make you high. And around 8pm, that's what he became. Hilarity ensued.
And it wasn't only the big man who was popping pills. One of the bar staff overheard a group of eight lads talking about taking something a little stronger and as the evening progressed, they duly went mental - on the dancefloor, naturally. One hilarious chap thought it would be just wizard to get on the stage and strip off. Another felt that what the evening was sorely lacking was an inspired bit of breakdancing. A third liked the idea of walking around on his hands. And then they all did a majestic 'group hug' whilst jumping around like lunatics. Oh, how we chuckled. Naturally, this meant that all I basically did was pay endless trips to the dancefloor, like every two minutes, to a point where it became a farce. Mr Stripper decided to have another go on the stage, so I dragged him off. He got a bit arsey so I told him that his was last chance. So he went straight back on the stage again. Out. His mate complained. Out. A couple more came with them, and as I got the four of them outside, I looked back and the other four were being escorted to the doors too. To be fair, they went pretty amicably, but couldn't resist another group walking-on-hands session near the exit. Super.
Finally, closing time. A few potential tossers still in there, but Sunday night is rarely a problem as the weekend crowd have to check out by 10am the next day, so can't do anything too major. We get them all outside pretty quickly and lock the doors. Five minutes later, a call comes over the radio. "Yeah... a couple of blokes are in the swimming pool."
We have an outdoor swimming pool that runs adjacent to the complex entrance. It's protected with fuck-off iron railings (capped with nasty spikes), but does that matter? Does it fuck. The two of them thought it would be just gorgeous to strip down to their boxers and have a near skinny-dip. To be honest, I didn't give a fuck, as they got out as soon as we came down, and tomorrow they're really going to pay. Not only is that water unheated (i.e., it's freezing), but it's not been cleaned properly all year. Seagulls wash and shit in it 24/7 (in that order.)
Goodbye funtime. Hello, scabies.
posted by Sheamus @ 2:00 am
