The night I couldn't remember

Saturday 13th January

This blog is a little different. It's a guest publication from F Diddy, as I was too messed up to remember what happened, let alone write about it. So here was last night:

One shot, One golden shoe and a fat face please

So I decided to take a wee chill out of drinking tonight with the view to catching up with sleep (currently 3:40am). But, oh yes bless my flatmates for turning up drunk :D. It wasn’t a problem though – because I was well awake. As a matter of fact I think it is a subconscious reaction to knowing flatmates are out getting drunk – just don’t go to bed (you miss out on the good banter).

I had earlier been up at flat 15 watching a few films with the lovely company of Collette and Claire (although a women’s perspective of films is usually utter pish. Clair and Collette being the loyal lassies they were they continued the trend of poor reaction to films, but I could live with it). When I wandered back down I heard the door opening with the inevitable drunken gibberish – Howzibit had returned in spectacular fashion. Spectacular? I meant Peculiar.

It turns out ‘I got drunk’ and that, and I quote ‘I got a taxi back’ – the true story I found out later was that Cam and Leggat who usually have some drink entailed trick up there sleeve for some poor victim had said to Howzibit to have some ’Apple Sourz’, Lo and behold it was Absinthe of the mere 75%. Howzibit being the hardcore drinker he was had managed to wait a whole 50 mins before starting to fall asleep, the bouncer on numerous occasions warning them to keep him awake. One thing led to another and Howzibit was thrown into a taxi with a destination told to the taxi driver and the grand total of £7 was given to the driver to take him home (lucky he wasn’t gay) . Surprisingly the taxi driver hadn’t decided to take advantage of our Howzibit by using an alternative route (yes, innuendo people).

Howzibit passed out, taken by Leggat.

After some cursing and swearing and a kick of a wall and walking into flat 17’s ironing board, off Howzibit went to bed.

When the others returned (Leggat, Veeman and Jamie (flat 1)) they were all a fallin’ and a laughin’. Randomness ensued – Highlights were: Leggat responding to everyone’s talking with ‘your face’. Veeman lying on my bed, with one drunken hand he had felt a box under the bed (my dirty washing), opened, and noticed my boxers with fat face written across the waist. He pointed at them and laughing loudly repeated the word ‘fat face’. After a quick nap on my bed (photo here I think).

Done :)

J Dizzle told them that there was Guitar Hero waiting in flat 18 (the poor lassies who have probably never heard of GH). (True - they thought it was something to do with them borrowing the Wii the other night - Leggat.) Leggat somehow instead of completing a dragonforce solo managed to walk in with a pair of golden high-heels.
Deciding that this was all a bit harsh in true Leggat style he agreed to post one of the high heels back through the letterbox.

Veeman was missing – looking over at Flat 1 we realised they were frantically trying to close windows and curtains and any flat orifice that they had, there was Veeman in a very puppy dog trying to get upon a couch manor, trying to get into their flat (some drunk like food, some water, some more booze but Veeman wants GH). With the lure of GH he had wandered over with puppy-dog eyes out and a wagging tail to get GH. Eventually they let him in. Leggat then decided to fall asleep in the common room area with one of the golden high heels on and boxers roughly up to his nipples and trousers at his knees.

And that was that. Feeling for Leggat possibly not being to blog this due to a hangover I felt responsibility of blogging tonight’s minor shenanigans.....

And that was F Diddy's view of last night, very funny I must say. Thanking you F Diddy.

Peace and absinthe,

Flat 14