Friday, 24 July 2009

Fuelling The Dream

Boom shackalack!

A big fat bleary thank you to the nice people at The Mob Films for shitting a load of their money up the wall last night so that selfish advertising wankers like me can get pissed for free. Hic.

It was an exciting night as you can imagine - a heady mix of some of the North West's finest dreamers, liars, failures and homosexuals, all under one low ceiling for a fuzzy evening of spilt drinks and crumpled business cards. Some played pool, some wore funny hats. Others flirted bleakly, and some were very sick. But, like the death of a cool friend, there was also a touch of sadness in air (as well as some Latin grooves via Talking Heads and the Eurythmics).

For me though, it was very much a night of lager and Guinness. Filling myself quickly and greedily at first, then settling slowly into a creamy smooth lilt. I saw old friends, ignored making new ones, and spoke to a hippie. Then, as as the sun went down, it was all off to the Purple Pussycat off Deansgate for the after-party wank and Lemsip. Sadly however, I had to decline, as I'd rather have been fucked in the face by a horse.

Mwah mwah xx


that french saying said...

Surely the fucked in the face by a horse method could have made your suicide list?

I would opt for the slit throat in live question time option by the way. Though if I decide to make my own life I might just go to one of the assisted suicide clinics, all the rage apparently.

John said...

It's just not enough to kill a man. Not a man like me anyway.