17 February 2008

And now, adding colour, a group of anonymous latin-American meat packing glitterati.

(Post titles seem deriguer on blogs nowadays so I'm trying one out for size)

Girl1 has finally moved out. The place seems very empty now :(

I am going to miss having someone around, and Floyd is really going to miss having a substitute lap for when I'm away. He was not in the least bit happy about me not being here last night.
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An interesting time was had in Ashby last night. I may have mentioned Ashby-de-la-Zouch before, probably in tones of mock-horror. I contracted there for 18 months (ish) in 2002-2003 for a now-defunct exercise in how to waste money called Ramesys. It's a small town, surrounded by lots of smaller villages and it is officially* the arse-end of the UK.

My friend Token lives nearby and seeing as I was up to visit we thought we'd pay the old place a visit (the stupidly drunken things he and I did in Ashby at the time have passed into legend - sleeping on park benches on the high street in winter after missing all the taxis home at 2am being just one of them) - but more of that later....

I'd forgotten how boring a long motorway journey is, having got out of the habit over the last 9 months. Normally I'd switch into auto-pilot (yeah yeah, I know it's dangerous, blah blah), listen to the football commentary or something and just cruise. Being out of practice I thought I'd keep myself focused with a bit of AC/DC on the way up - nothing like some throat-achingly bad singing/shouting to keep your mind on the road. There is (sadly) no dignified way to sing in the car, you always look like an utter twat - while around you the other drivers are no doubt wondering why a spastic having an epileptic fit is overtaking them at suicidally dangerous speeds.

And you've got to admit that AC/DC are extraordinary lyricists - Back In Black (for that was the album I was headbanging to) includes the following deeply philosophical insight:

'Cause I'm back

Yes, I'm back

Well, I'm back

Yes, I'm back

Well, I'm back

Baaa-aaaa-aaaa-aaa-ack

(Well) I'm back in black

Yes, I'm back in black


[The subtext of which (I think) is a sort of joy at returning to something. In black.]

Anyway, after a wonderfully tender rosemary-encrusted rack of mutton with Token and family we headed into Ashby to hit the nightspot (used to be nightspots, but one is now a lap-dancing club which was a bit of a shock). Obviously not drinking at all, I found nightclubbing a seriously boring activity, though Token seemed to enjoy himself. The one club in Ashby is called Ciros (pronounced as Cairo's and I believe simply a misspelling). It's awful, truly, truly awful - yet at the same time strangely compulsive viewing. I people-watched all night as seeing as I was staying at Token's house I couldn't take back a crack-whore slapper (if you think I'm being harsh here then you've clearly never been to Ashby) even if I'd wanted to.

I saw the obligatory fight, the obligatory broken nose, the obligatory escorting of a dozen chavs off the premises, the obligatory under-age girl on coke being molested by someone nearly my age (not me, I hasten to add :) ) and more drugs selling than should be possible. There must've been more dealers than buyers.

I saw sixty people dance to Lionel Richie while making a curious upwards pointing gesture during 'Dancing on the ceiling' - were they helpfully explaining to their fellow dancers what a ceiling was perhaps? I could see no other reason for it.

I saw everyone's standards slowly slipping over three hours until they copped off with a monstrosity from Coalville (a neighbouring town). I saw one boy try repeatedly to slyly slide his hands into the back pockets of a large lady wearing two-sizes-too-small jeans and a three-sizes-too-small leopard print top. After failing for the 3rd time he simply warmed his hands in the rolls of fat hanging off her back. That's a mental image I shall struggle to rid myself of.

I saw some dangerously thin 16 year old wearing next to nothing wander straight outside into -6C weather without flinching. Kudos girl *doffs cap* - I was wearing my jacket in the club (it was freeeeeeezing)!

Ah well. It was good to see the place :)

*according to me, and I'm always right :-P

6 Comments:

At 17 February 2008 at 21:37, Blogger PrincessPolly said...

Re: the "dancing on the ceiling" dancers: perhaps they were confusing it with "stayin' alive"? by the way, what age ARE you??? or will you not reveal it?

 
At 17 February 2008 at 21:56, Blogger Red Squirrel said...

Oh no, they had different moves for Staying Alive (it was the cheesiest club ever). The local favourite was 'Total Eclipse Of The Heart' - less a nightclub than a mass karoake session....

Hmmm, I'm older than you, younger than Token and wise beyond my years :-P

 
At 18 February 2008 at 13:32, Anonymous Token said...

kiwigirl sent you a VD text!?! Much smoother than the "I love you!" text you sent her a mere 3 hours after meeting her...

Conversation highlight of the Ashby night with a complete stranger: turning around to place an empty bottle in the bottle bin and accidentally striking a stunning on the shoulder with it. I apologised profusely and told her I didn’t usually hit women with bottles. She laughed nervously and stepped several steps back slowly, never to be seen again. Methinks it wasn’t meant to be…

 
At 18 February 2008 at 16:06, Blogger Red Squirrel said...

Yeah yeah, you always bring up that text I sent. Meh, I was incapacitated at the time....

Plus that girl wasn't the only one you scared away with your looming, ha ha ha.

 
At 19 February 2008 at 13:09, Blogger weenie said...

People watching in clubs is ace!

So you had no luck with the crack-whore slapper but your mate did??

 
At 19 February 2008 at 17:24, Blogger Red Squirrel said...

So you had no luck with the crack-whore slapper but your mate did??

No crack-whore slapper action.

Thankfully.

One does not do one-night stands thank you very much. Well, not ones that started off as that intention if you see what I mean :)

 

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