wisewords
Get on the train at 11am. Oxford students immediately identify themselves by opening bottle of crap white wine and drinking out of plastic cups. "Oh no, I've forgotten my college scarf". Sort it out, bitch.
Hammersmith station massively packed by midday. I meet my friends. Yes, I know it's a dodgy haircut. The person responsible has been severely disciplined. What have you been up to this holiday? Skiing, job interviews, a lot of academic work. Me? Well I didn't get a job as such; apparently I was 'inappropriate.' Yes, I know it was for a telemarketing job. Yes, talking on the phone, that's right. I'm afraid I was unsuitable. They asked me who I'd most like a one-to-one with so I said Woody Allen. Why? Because he's a dirty old lech. What else? Managed to crash my car. How? I reversed badly. Went into a parked car and managed to lodge my bumper on to his trailer connector. No, I did. Had to haul it off and ripped off paintwork. That's it.
Would you like an official programme? Erm, no. I think I know what teams are in it this year. Police are everywhere; good to see they've got nothing better to do than watch some rowing. What time are you closing the bridge, Mr Plod? "Well, what time does it start?" Good to see you're on the ball, mate. And what time are you reopening it? "Well, when it ends," he says, with a distinctly superior tone. Being patronised by the Dibble. Would have been humiliated but decided to gain vengeance so noted down his number and filed official complaint.
Ah, Bottoms Up. How much lager do I need? Will 24 be enough? What's a better deal - eight Stellas for eight quid or seven Carlings for a fiver? Stellas are only 440ml but they're 5.2%. Do you take Switch? Oh good. Not real money, then. "Did you see Back to the Future yesterday?" I ask me mate. Good to see that Oxford vacations are being used properly. Also that we collectively but separately celebrated the death of our Lord Jesus Christ on Good Friday in our own little way by watching Marty McFly invent rock'n'roll and prevent a collapse in the space-time continuum; a successful day by any standards. This side or the other? Millions of people outside The Rutland. Morris dancers? The other side. Oooh, no people there. Strange. Consider throwing horse into the Thames; reconsider as no equine creatures immediately to hand. Stand under bridge like a tramp; physical resemblance is disturbing. Let's go that way, James says. Why? No time for questions. Right, let's stop here for the best view. We'll see the boats for almost twenty seconds. Bollocks, I need a slash. Where's a pub when you need one? OK, I'll meet you back here in a minute. This looks all right. Damn, I've pissed on my can. Sod it, I'll wipe it on my jacket. Hmm, quite a pool I've made there. That's a tenner well spent.
Find friends again; good photo opportunity. Can't quite bring myself to smile for camera as I always look badly constipated, not that there's such a thing as good constipation, I suppose. Oh my God, the reserves race has started. Oh no, I don't care, do I? "Could I borrow your bottle opener?" an unattractive lady with child asks. She has bottle of alcoholic water. For the child, is it? Have your breasts packed up? Sorry didn't mean to be rude. Christ, here they come. The Tabs are ahead, someone says. Right, that's Cambridge isn't it? Oh, damn. We appear to be doing very badly. Four lengths, I confidently say. How long's a length? The distance between the elbow and the wrist of a Shetland pony, I say confidently. They're out of sight now past Barnes Bridge. Let's go to the pub. Right, can I have two cokes, a diet coke and a pint of water? Maybe my most homosexual order in a pub ever. Chuck water away. Pour can into pint glass. I am too clever for Mr Publican.
Meet other mates in Hammersmith. Let's go to Pizza Hut; your largest one please. Toppings? Yes please. Which ones? My usual, of course. I have no idea. Waitress is quite attractive. But I won't tell her that. Don't want to seem too keen. So impress her instead by falling over. Fall asleep in toilet; how embarrassing. Me mate climbs over door and finds me with trousers round ankles; discovered like Elvis. Except I'm not dead. Or American. Or 25 stone. Actually, the similarity between me and The King was quite superficial. Go back to Sam's house. Watch a deaf person do a mime dance to Bohemian Rhapsody. Even I appreciate that is surreal. Am starting to get hangover so drink more to make it go away.
Wake up 7am on strange sofa. Drink a vat of water. Can't work video so turn telly on. Only Teletubbies. Not seen it before. Po wants some Tubby-custard but he'd rather ride his scooter instead. Christ, it's Easter isn't it? Never mind. Maybe we'll win next year.
iw