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So, last night for no apparent reason other than having been wound up a bit I necked 2x Cordon Negro and 1x 620ml Peroni over a couple of movies then knocked it on the head about 0100 and tucked myself in with the headphones feeding me some of The Cult's classics (you can't beat a bit of Astbury, after all). So you're all thinking, "Yeah and what of it, chimp?" And you'd be right - except that I woke up on the stroke of 0530 and thought, having picked up my phone and looked at it, "Hmmm - fuggit; another hour and a half before the alarm goes off," and went to roll over. At which point I realise I am actually semi-vertical sitting on the sofa and not horizontal all cozy-like in my pit, about the time I clock I looked at my phone, which gets left in the lounge. So at some point I've hauled my arse out of my scratcher, opened the door, moved through the hall, opened another door and negotiated fixtures, fittings and not-very-soft furnishings to end up sitting, spark out, on my sofa. All without noticing. This is a first for me. No - seriously; previously odd pissed stuff has had memories attached (usually bad ones) that come back as I'm tipping half a reservoir of water down my neck. Not his time... I'm scared...!
Now, what worries me is that I've just put the same mix of booze down my neck whilst spinning a couple of movies, I've got a bit more of The Cult on, and what if I turn left instead of right out of the bedroom? Assuming I operate the door handle successfully I'm then ultimately at the top of three flights of stairs and a door to the wider world beckons at the bottom.
"Why are you bothered?" you ask? Well, I sleep in the raw, I'm not in any way pretty and if I don't take my keys with me I can't get back in! Also, the potential to do a @The_Snail and substantially break myself exists and, apart from not needing the hassle that goes with bending my turbo-nutter heavily-calcified skeleton, I don't fancy being found in a crumpled heap in the altogether by my neighbours. Or anyone else, as it happens.
I like my booze, I like my movies and I like my Cult. So, what the fuck just happened, should I be worried and what the fuck else could possibly go wrong?
Over to the weapons-free denizens of the internet's foetid hair-clogged arsepart for answers...
The post that makes me laugh myself into a fatal seizure by midday tomorrow wins my not insubstantial estate*.
In your own time...
* Have I ever mentioned that I am, in fact, a lying cunt...?
Also, @ACAB has been in touch with me personally from beyond the grave. He said, "It's Friday; they need one of those threads. Don't let me down, son..."
Now, what worries me is that I've just put the same mix of booze down my neck whilst spinning a couple of movies, I've got a bit more of The Cult on, and what if I turn left instead of right out of the bedroom? Assuming I operate the door handle successfully I'm then ultimately at the top of three flights of stairs and a door to the wider world beckons at the bottom.
"Why are you bothered?" you ask? Well, I sleep in the raw, I'm not in any way pretty and if I don't take my keys with me I can't get back in! Also, the potential to do a @The_Snail and substantially break myself exists and, apart from not needing the hassle that goes with bending my turbo-nutter heavily-calcified skeleton, I don't fancy being found in a crumpled heap in the altogether by my neighbours. Or anyone else, as it happens.
I like my booze, I like my movies and I like my Cult. So, what the fuck just happened, should I be worried and what the fuck else could possibly go wrong?
Over to the weapons-free denizens of the internet's foetid hair-clogged arsepart for answers...
The post that makes me laugh myself into a fatal seizure by midday tomorrow wins my not insubstantial estate*.
In your own time...
* Have I ever mentioned that I am, in fact, a lying cunt...?
Also, @ACAB has been in touch with me personally from beyond the grave. He said, "It's Friday; they need one of those threads. Don't let me down, son..."
