whiplash

Sorry this is late; it’s entirely my fault due to a rather rigorous evening with Swineshead, not in a bum way of course.

Allow mw to indulge you. I arrived home after another fucking useless day at work and caught the tube into town. My intention was to have a few jars with SH and hook up later with Myfwt. I arrived at the 2 Brewers at precisely 6.15 and was joined by SH, and off we went. It was a beautiful evening, I didn’t even bother taking a jacket with me, made all the better for being on the pavement watching Londoners opening like flowers in the warm evening sunshine. There was a single tangible mood of lifted spirits and SH and I responded by indulging in cheery and increasingly boozy banter.

After a few we wondered off to a bar in Holborn to meet up with some of his work colleagues. By now I was quite fucked and was re-considering meeting with Myfwt as she was also with work colleagues and the last thing she needed was a pissed up handful cavorting about a bar making a nuisance of himself. Fortunately (and perhaps wisely) she didn’t pick up when I called so I recorded a garbled message and left it at that.

One of SH’s work colleagues, a 22 year old Kiwi whose name isn’t pertinent, made for an interesting drinking companion. In addition to being engaged it transpired she was bisexual with a penchant for fetishism. Without wishing to go into too much detail, I have some experience of this world. Myfwt used to be a model and at some point in her career she modelled some rubber fetish gear, this in turn led her appearing in a feature film (much hyped at the time but a flop in the box office to the point the once acclaimed director hasn’t worked since) and on the back of that yours truly got paid to literally lurk in the background in leather. Of course Myfwt was much higher up the pecking order, she had lines, featured on the cover and was paid enough money to keep us in wine, drugs and very good food for a long while after the movie wrapped. Anyway, the Kiwi girl recognised Myfwt by my description and from that moment on we got on famously. It’s worth noting SH was rather amused to learn one of his colleagues had rather an extreme kink, it’s also worth noting that he was very generous that evening and lubricated the wheel of a marvellous conversation.

On the tube home I started chatting to an enormous African women who was returning from Church (Church? It was gone 11pm) with her baby daughter a huge kid with a big grin on it’s face, who was apparently 3. I mention this only to give some indication of my condition, talking to strangers isn’t me, if you’ve been reading Piqued long enough this should be apparent.

When I got home I could see Cunt in his living room so quite deliberately I slammed all the doors as hard as possible and thumped up the stairs. The fucking arsehole then knocked on my door to ask ‘are you alright, bruv?’ Trying hard not to laugh at the ‘bruv’ (what a fucking CUNT) I yelled ‘NO!’ and slammed to door in his face. I was utterly wasted and decided it was best for everyone if I went off to bed without any supper, which I did.

The subsequent hangover slowed me down this morning but I did get up in order to check my e-mails an attempt some sort of work. Normally I wouldn’t have bothered but things are slow at the moment I had little choice.

This is why Piqued is late and for that I’m truly apologetic.

Fucking hell, another great director gone, RIP Michelangelo Antonioni. (Is it just me or does anyone else feel fucking annoyed that Michael fucking Winner is still alive?)

This is for the kidz