Thursday, December 09, 2004

Tuesday Night Fun and Games



You coked up mother fucker - I do not want to follow you to a fucking strip club.

Were my thoughts.

They continued. I don't care how fit you tell me the girls are. I am simply not in the mood. and I wouldn't fucking follow you even to the bus stop.

I waved him off, "Listen, mate I'm just not in the mood. That's not what it's all about."

"Well if you don't want to - how about you want a girl instead. £30 full sex. All nationalities. Swedish, Spanish, French.... Russian."

What the fuck kind of broken down girl charges £30 for sex -or worse still, what kind of girl is forced to charge £30 for sex... and you'll be taking a cut out of that too.

"Nah, man it's cool. I'm cool" I said.

"Well you want a pick me up? I've got cocaine. Yeah, I've got cocaine on me. Good stuff. My girlfriend is Colombian and every time she comes back she brings it back...Un-Cut stuff. I've had some myself."

What - YOU have a girlfriend? Furthermore you mean to tell me that YOU, you have some connections with Colombia??
(not that I do cocaine - or have ever tried it)
You expect me to expect to believe that I can buy pure cocaine from a broke down ass filthy looking mother fucker plying his trade on the fucking streets...

I might be blonde.

But I'm not a cunt.

I look him in the eye, "Alright, mate, I'm cool, but next time I'll know who you are. What's your name?"

Big mistake - oh fuck. here it comes, he wants to touch my hand... he is going to shake my hand.

Ettiquete would normally dictate I remove my leather gloves.

Ettiquette can kiss my arse.

Afterwards for a moment I consider throwing my gloves away.

Anyhow - let us shift back:

Because of my irregular shift patterns and so forth I end up with a lot of time to kill on odd days of the week. So recently the Tuesday Night out has become something of a convention since I do not usually go to bed until 5:00am or 6:00am and my time is unhurried.

So last night, for the second night in a row I found myself walking the streets around West End and Soho in the early hours of the morning. This time I was with my accountant friend.

We went to a few nice places... at first glance quite touristy, but mid-week they have a nice laid back vibe and are really quite pleasant to go to. Every good place seemed to be having a private function or another - we managed to get into one bar in town and sneak into the private function upstairs. The girls were all very nice looking and very well turned out - but most of them seemed to be quite young.

Nonetheless we sat down and surveyed the room. I clocked three girls sitting to my immediate right and decided I would go and talk to them. All I had to do was wait for the loser cunt that they were sitting with to fuck off and go to the toilet.

(In honesty they were quite young looking - and I couldn't REALLY be arsed with it, but I figured I had nothing to lose - and besides I had to find out whose party it was we were crashing - and they were going to tell me)

Eventually the loser cunt did fuck off to the toilet and I immediately grabbed my chance. Of zero interest to me it was when I found out that it was some stupid Law Society party. I did however almost choke when I discovered that all three of these girls were Russian... oh had I known that in advance...

Nothing really developed with those girls, I played it wrong and honestly couldn't be bothered. Also, the two that I was not paying too much attention to, seemed to fight with me to regain possession of the third girl.
(A lesson to be commited to memory about the bitchiness of girls)

A tally of the day and all in all I managed to speak Russian to SEVEN different Girls. Almost every time I go out in London I will manage to find a girl to practice some Russian with. Maybe I meet them in a bar, or they are working in a shop but they are all over. That is not to say that Russians are all over the place. No. It is quite hard for them to get over here. But because of the English membership of the EU, and freedom of movement within it, there a lot of girls from Poland, and recently Lithuania, Slovakia, Czeck Republic working or studying or travelling over here. London being the capital city attracts them all. All of these countries used to teach Russian in schools and so a lot of people speak Russian.

And so I am thankful that I am learning Russian.

And for a moment I am surprised with myself too.

2 Comments:

Blogger darling maggot said...

what's the moral of the story here?

12/09/2004 8:46 am  
Blogger Doom/Blondie said...

I actually was finding it very difficult to tag the two bits together so in the end I gave up trying.

There is no moral.

Not today.

I will bluff and pretend it is a post-modern stream of conciousness free form.

12/09/2004 5:39 pm  

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