The GB Birthday Saga

The day started, like so many others, with plans to sit in a beer garden in the sun. We arrived around midday, and walked up to the bar of a pub set in the grounds of a Nottingham park. As we walked in, a sight which would set the tone for the remainder of the day greeted us. A strange image of fat men walking around in flamboyant shirts with their names written on their backs. It was soon obvious that a darts tournament had been shoehorned into our bar. I sensed danger as there were darts flying everywhere. A drunken man could come to a lot of harm in this situation. Especially a drunken man with little or no sense of danger, direction or propriety. Sadly, myself, GB and our companions fitted perfectly into this category.

The four of us wisely retired to the beer garden, amongst my favourite places to drink. There is something amount the hot sun shining down on a cold pint that makes me get all, well, drunk. Somewhat incongruous with the other patrons was a very large young woman with purple hair and some student companions. Being sober at this stage, we largely ignored her like the nice people we are.

A few happy hours passed, after which LE's girlfriend, JP was somewhat tired and decided to fall asleep. Arrangements were quickly made for LE to have a few more pints and then retreat from the situation. Unfortunately the lesbian/earth mother/purple haired warrior took offence to this and unwisely decided to intervene.

LPH: If you really loved your girlfriend, you'd take her home now.
LE: If you knew what was good for you you'd fuck off now.
I'm not going to take advice from someone with purple hair.
LPH: What's wrong with my hair? You should take your girlfriend home.
LE: Look, just fuck off and sit over there. Bitch.

The umpleasantness over, we continued to drink. LE removed himself and his defunct girlfriend. The substitution was DK, GB's Russian colleague. At this point, I decided that things should be set straight and explained to DK what had occurred in my quietest, most subtle voice. I then detailed a fantasy in which I maimed, killed and burned the bodies of a legion of purple haired lesbian warriors who interfered with other people's drinking. The three students drinking with our tormentor seemed somewhat unhappy on overhearing this and DK suggested we move on.

A day of solid drinking followed. Myself and GB ended the night in a late bar, where another of GB's multiple colleagues decided to get around 30 shots of various spirits (I seem to recall it was mainly aftershock) and play a drinking game which I understandably had little grasp of the rules for. GB was of little assistance being at least 75% unconcious. His only actions were to wake up occasionally, gaze incomprehendingly at the huge pile of shots on our table, then drink one and return to slumber.

After being solidly beaten (or winning) in the drinking games, we attempted to go to a club. It is a sign of my level of drunkeness that I agreed, with my utter disdain for clubs and the drinking opportunities they offer. Fortunately, as we crossed the road to queue for the club, GB stacked it. Unfortunately this section of the tale is third party information as I cannot recall the incident. Apparently it was an excellent dive, fully worthy of a Premiership footballer. GB declined to get back up, and instead crawled through broken glass and up the steps to the club. In full view of the bouncers and the policemen attending some form of incident.

PC: What are you doing?
GB: I'm going into the club.
PC: I don't think you should do that.

My only memory of this period is audio - GB's colleagues arguing with the taxi driver about whether we could make it back in his taxi. My assumption is that we were both comatose in the back of the vehicle. He eventually agreed to take us home. Whether he did so or kicked us out at the first opportunity is now lost in the mists of time. All in all, a good day was had by everyone except those we came across.