Last weekend was a good one. Met up my friend Paul on Friday, and we went on a small opub crawl of what seemed like the worst pubs in central London. We’re cultured folk, so we talked of fine art and poetry. This is not true, of course; we mainly spoke about wasting our lives, and birds that we haven’t managed to sleep with. Or something.
Then on Saturday I went out and about in Brixton with my mate, Mr Gee. I’d never really been pubbing in Brixton before; I go to the Brixton Academy a fair bit, but that’s about it. This part of London has a bad reputation, but there’s actually a really cool and fun vibe around the place.
We went to a “warm-up” pub that had small plastic animals stuck upside-down on the ceiling, and watched some drunken punters searching for their lost coats. And we know they were looking for them because they asked us if we’d seen them. Several times. According to Mr Gee they had been rustled away by the mysterious coat thieves of Brixton town, whereas I think they were just too drunk and/or stupid to remember where they’d put them.
After that we moved on to Dogstar in Coldharbour Lane. The atmosphere in this place was really buzzing – playing lots old-skool dance, ska and rock anthems to keep my dancing feet active.
There was a raised seating area to the side of the bar, and I comandeered that as my own personal dancing area for the night. I spent ages there dancing with the girl of my dreams; this realy cute little blonde chick in a blue dress. We had a Zoolander-style dance-off, during which she ended up headbutting me in the mouth during one of her crazy moves. It wasn’t deliberate (she claimed) and she was very apologetic – so I like to think it happened because she was driven wild by the scent of my pheromones. And by my bushy moustache, of course.
I’m so tough that I didn’t make a fuss, and secretly swallowed all the blood in my mouth; although this made it really hard to talk. In fact, she probably thought I was some kind of Rain Man-esque, body-popping spazmo… which is possibly quite near the truth.
Then to top it all off, some bloke strutted over onto my stage and tried to muscle in and dance with her. He slipped over and fell on the floor, then rolled around for a while. Like something out of Police Academy.
Anyway, to summarise I’m now officially in love with her, although I’ll probably never see her again. I posted something to this effect on Twitter and got a brilliant reply from @DogstarBrixton, saying that they’d used my tweet in the February poster:
“Went to Dogstar in Brixton last night; some bird headbutted me while dancing. I love her”.
I said they could use my funky moustache in their poster too, but I’ve yet to hear a reply…