Good morning. Right now it’s about 6am and if you’re wondering why I’m posting this so early it’s because we’re off to London to see my girlfriend’s brother for his Birthday and the place we’re staying in doesn’t have the internet. Yes, I know that’s an alien concept – to me especially – but it’s one we’ve got to live with, hence my early blog post.
I’m really looking forward to London though, I haven’t been for a while now, and it’s always good to go back. Good to go back for the atmosphere and the shops, but mostly for the food.
In terms of London-centric dishes, nothing else comes close to Pie and Mash. Two pies, one mash and liquor is what I usually go for. Oh man. It’s so nice my mouth is watering just thinking about it. If you live in London and you’re reading this but haven’t tried Pie & Mash before, give it a go today. I promise you won’t look back. There’s nowhere else in the world (because I’ve been all over it) that makes Pie & Mash like they do in London town, and it’s bloody gorgeous.
But it’s not just the food, the shops, and the vaguely aggressive atmosphere that I like going to London for, of course not. I’ve been there for far more seedy reasons besides those. When I was younger my mate Matt and I travelled up to London (from West Sussex) for two years to attend, as it was then known, the European Computer Trade Show (ECTS).
To get into the show you had to work in the trade. Both myself and Matt were just 16 year old College students so how did we get in? Well luckily I had a Saturday job at the time which was working in a model train shop and that somehow qualified us to attend the games show. But we had heard on the grapevine that that still might not be enough so we had to look the part. What did we do? We bought cheap Burtons suits of course.
So armed with our cheap suits, Microsoft Word-made business cards and bum fluff, we somehow managed to get in. ECTS, for those of you who didn’t click the link, was basically a giant computer games show, showcasing the latest games and computer technology. As a 16 year old nerd (and to be fair, even a 27 year old nerd) it was pretty exciting. We got to play some N64 games before anyone else, and Matt played some Counter-strike against a European Quake champion but dropped out because he had a nose bleed.
After each day of the show (and it was on for three) we’d go out in central London in our suits. Now when I was 16, I looked 16, believe me. I still get ID’ed even now and I’m 27. But when I was that age it was hard to get served anywhere with my virginal looks, so I didn’t bother. Loads of my mates were drinking in pubs on Friday nights after school but I never tried because I knew I’d get ID’ed.
Getting ID’ed would only mean that I’d have to leave the pub whilst my friends and attractive girls from school that I was desperately trying impress and/or finger would laugh at me and knock back their Orange and Passion fruit Reefs in disgust. Leaving me to walk to the bus-stop alone and wait for the number 60 to take me home. Tears, rolling down my cheeks, the bright lights of the Golden Arches reflecting in the LCD screen of my broken CD player. A single skinhead walks up to the ATM across the road and vomits on the buttons. A dove slowly flies above. Alone. Like the 16 year old waiting at the bus-stop.
But in London that didn’t stop me trying to buy alcohol, and you know what, it worked! We didn’t try a pub, because the only reason it worked in Bognor (for my mates) was because it was a dodgy pub by the train station and if it didn’t serve the huge gang of 16 year olds it would’ve been empty and probably in administration.
No, instead of a pub we tried an off-license. I think the guy must’ve looked at us and thought “well they look 16, but what pair of 16 year olds would go round in suits just to buy some beer? Exactly. Go ahead lads, enjoy the lovely, refreshing booze”.
So we did! But the fact that going to buy alcohol being only 16 meant we either had to get enough to supply an all-night party or there was no point at all, so we had to go for it. With that thought, we went for the obvious, the strongest lager we could get our hands on, and we bought as much as we could handle. Yes ladies and gentlemen, we bought a 4-pack of Special Brew.
Not only that, but we decided to take the tube down to central London and drink it there. At one point we were just stood on the corner at Oxford Circus just two 16 year olds in cheap suits, drinking Special Brew right out of the can!
It got worse, too. We walked down to Soho to continue our classy al-fresco drinking and a guy tried to give us a five-pound note. I’m not sure if he was either trying to buy us thinking we were smart rent-boys, or tramps who had robbed the nearby Burtons store.
Either way we mumbled something about not taking his money and walked off with our heads held high. That was until Matt fell over into a bin and a woman hanging in the doorway of a brothel that Matt almost fell into asked if we needed any help. That was the snap back to reality we needed and we quickly ran off with our cans between our legs.
After that little Tête à Tête, we made our way over to Elephant and Castle to go to Ministry of Sound. Again, miraculously we got in. But again I think it was the suits that did the talking. We wasn’t originally going to attempt such a foolhardy manoeuvre but by that point we were drunk enough not to care, but too drunk to appear rowdy and rambunctious.
The only thing I remember from that night really is us sneaking into the VIP area (man we were really ballsy by that point eh?) I think the bouncer’s back was turned or something and we dived under the velvet rope. Jesus Christ, I wouldn’t do that now, imagine if they had seen us? We’d be actually dead. Like actually dead. Mental.
Anyway, after running up the stairs and into the room we were quite impressed with the VIP area. It was a glass box which hung over the main dancefloor, and there was only a few people in there, all of which looked at us when we came in the door, stinking of Special Brew. When we eventually sat down we met a woman who had done, like, 32 E’s or something. Neither of us could quite believe it but we acted like we were impressed. All I remember of that woman (apart from the impressive yet slightly bollocks amount of drugs she had taken) was that she looked about 40 and had more make-up on than a Books No.7 counter) Minutes after her drug-taking revelation we were kicked out because I had fallen asleep against the glass wall of the VIP area because we had been up all the previous night playing Counterstrike.
So yeah, that’s my account of London. Boy do I know how to have a good time.
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