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October 21st

London's Calling

The sun was shining aplenty as I wearily stepped off a bus that had â€" at my own will â€" held me prisoner for 3 and a half hours. 11am sharp and i was already feeling f***ed, this was not a good start to the day especially considering the fact that sleep was looking to be an unlikely event over the coming weekend.

My first task of the day was to find out why i was standing in the middle of some scary-ass bus depot, looking like a lost child, when i should be phoning up Tim to meet up with him.

3 rings and Tim answers,

- Hello?
- Tim! Where the hell are you?
- Where are you?
- Erm...i dunno. Where are you?

Tim sighs heavily sounding already annoyed with me. He replies,

- What can you see?
- Erm...a pub and...there's nothing significant to speak of.
- Well that doesn't help.
- What can you see?
- Shops.

It was my turn to sigh heavily.

- What shops?
- There's a subway here. Look, just wander around and try to find your way. If you get really lost phone me and i'll come looking for you.
- Fo Shizzle, ma nizzle!

I didn't really get all black on him, but it sounds good on script, and already makes me sound a little cooler.

So, me being a 24 year old, red-blooded male I'd follow the hot girl who had just walked past me. I ambled behind slowly checking out her legs and her arse before my pateience began running out. The girl may have been hot, but her high-heeled brown boots were making her walk far too slowly, i made the executive decision to avoid being a stalker (at least for the weekend) and head towards "that nice looking building with a bookshop in it."

There, on the horizon stood an elegant looking building; modern, but not ugly and boasted a terrace of shops - unknown and unheard of to anyone from outside of London. "That looks a good place to look for Tim." I thought to myself. "If not, then f*** it, i'll just go to the bookshop and phone him and tell him to find the shop." Like carrying the responsibility of bringing up a child I strolled along the boardwalk looking for Tim.

(NB. To say i strolled would be a lie for i spent almost an entire weekend walking with a strange limp so-to-speak thanks to a heavy bag on my back. Oh, and it wasn't really a "boardwalk" either, considering it was a concrete pathway i think it's fair enough to let you make up your mind on how this concrete-laden, modern building actually looked.)

Alas, i thought i was never going to find Tim but just before i lost all hope i peered into the distance and there he stood: like a mannequin who'd been placed under a halogen bulb too long, Tim's hair was bleached and shone like the sun in it's morning glory. We greeted each other and no longer than 5 minutes had passed before Charlie â€" who stood head and shoulders (and a torso) above any other passer-by â€" was phoning Tim regarding our whereabouts. One would think that a man of such monstrous height would have grown accustomed to finding friends in amongst crowds of people, but not so. I suppose it's akin to you trying to find a golf ball in the thick of a grassy plain. Before Charlie even had a chance to greet us Pete had arrived and stood no more than 4 inches from my face â€" a peculiar introduction to say the least.

Ok, i've just written over 600 words to describe what is essentially 10 minutes out of the weekend. If i carry on at this rate you will have a novel out of me (which gives me a nice idea, actually).

Ok, i'm gonna cut this down dramatically now. No more of this pansy-arsed writing.
Just the bare facts coming at ya!

The four of us decided that the first port of call would be food. We all stopped off for a subway where we heartily devoured our chow whilst Tim sat with nothing in front of him but thumbs. I can't criticise because his thumbs were certainly happy; there they were enjoying each others company, twiddling with one another if you will, acting as if they've known each other all their lives. It was truly a joy to watch and i would have continued enjoying such a spectacle whilst eating my meal had someone not decided to ruin it.

Charlie and Pete both decided that 'Bait the Welshman' should start â€" promptly. They made a few smart-arsed comments, made themselves look like a fool and like a pair of 8 year old's with A.D.D. the almost stopped simultaneously to see the first people wearing a Sprinkboks jersey for the day. 'Bait the Welshman' promtly ended as they had found a new toy to play with.

Charlie voiced up first, rolling his heavy 'R's,

- Oo do yoo fink is gonna win today?

They smiled politely knowing this was the start of a dreadful day to come. They replied,

- South Africa, of crouse.
- Do yoo fink yoo staand a chaance?

The English ignorance never ceases to amaze.

If rugby be the food of love, play on

The food box had been checked, and being level-headed blokes we know where our priorities lie. It was concurred that next up we should find a grassy area somewhat and the rugby shall commence.

The grass was wet in St.James' Park (is that where we where? I can't f***ing remember!) and only a few minutes had passed before a warden was feebly telling us to f*** off. Had Charlie and Pete remembered that they were actually forwards and could not, and i quote, "kick for ****" then the rugby ball would not have been hurling towards the deck chairs all the time.

We relocated and the rugby ensued. Tim produced an array of side stepping and banana-kicks ala Freddie Michelak; Charlie was out-jumping everyone (without jumping) to reach the high balls; I displayed some lovely touches before putting in the first big hit of the day and sending Pete on his arse as I drove my shoulder into him; and Pete...well...Pete was running about chasing the ball a lot, slipping over, doing the splits and...getting dump-tackled by me.

And did the two forwards learn from before? No sir, they carried on kicking as if they had the deft touch of Hernandes.

Let the alcohol flow...

After much crying Charlie finally got his way and we headed off to the pub for a drink or two. However, the pub did not happen instantly as we were promised by Pete that we could shower up at his whore-joint. Alas we were turned away by the pimp at the door saying the "Gentleman's club" was closed off to us scum on a weekend. Me? I was in a world of my own at that point. A girl with a thong had just walked passed and i was quite content with watching her hips roll as she bounced (not literally) down the road.

A few people were annoyed by the lack of Pete fulfilling his promise (especially himself) and there was a lot of muttering going on. I can't honestly say what happened between then and the time that we arrived at a pub, but i do know that Johnny Wilkinson was nowhere to be seen (that upset Charlie); there were lots of chinese people; even MORE people celebrating the end of a period where they pretend to starve themselves, but actually eat at night when no one else is around; and there was a girl. Oh yes, she stood no taller than 5'2" tall but her heaving bussoms said all you needed to know about her. There she glided, knowing that every step she took had to be elegant and could not have a bouncing motion for everyone around knew that where she ever forced to take a jog without the appropriate bra then concussion was certainly on the cards.

We arrived at a quaint little place, that sat down a dodgy looking alley in the same manner that you would expect to see your local hobo: squating neatly out of the way of anyone's path it was not really an eye-sore, but it was definitely something you didn't want to approach.

God only knows why but within spitting distance across the alley stood exactly the same pub, but a little bigger and with many more people. Pete, being the recluse that he is, decided to go to the small, empty pub to grab a few pints.

Pete pulled in the first round and we all sat down to a quiet well earned drink. Subtly and politely Tim leaned in towards me and whispered whilst directing my attention behind the bar,

- Is that a man or a woman?
- It's...erm...is it a woman?

Of course neither of us knew for sure and we certainly weren't brave enough to undertake any investigative methods to find out the sex of the horror-that-lurked-behind-the-bar!

3 Toffs, 2 Kiwis, 1 Saffa and a Taffy in a bar...

3pm and after a few pints, phoning Steve (I Bleed Black), and looking for the equivalent of our hostel in Australia on Pete's phone (no idea why) we arrived in our room. 2 bunk beds and me and Tim being the cool ones, we got top bunk.

Finally, we met up with Steve and his mate Haine (sp?). We, for some reason unbeknownst to myself, decided to meet up in that freaky pub with the horror-that-lurked-behind-the-bar still serving. Drinks were flowing aplenty by now, movie talk was echoing around the room, and rugby was mentioned as well. Pete finally got a call through: Quintes had arrived. An air of anticipatory eagerness hovered over the room like a grey cloud. Ok, there wasn't i was just trying to add a little pazang to the story so to speak.

After Quintes arrived Haine proved himself to be a rockstar and sent up a round of drinks in the midgets-lift â€" that's what i'm calling it. We decided it was time to line our stomachs as we headed off to wagamagagagamagaa. No idea what the place was called and being that there was a queue and we were hungry we bailed on that joint after waiting, what...1 minute?

We went to Hamburger Union where we all got ripped off by having to pay **** loads of money just for a wee burger. Charlie however did the sensible thing and spent more than anyone else (£9 i believe) on a burger and pretended that it was worth it.

Denial is a beautiful state to be in if you can afford it.

You're Beautiful!

As a loud an boistrous group (not half as loud and boistrous as we were about to get later in the night, but still, we were making a significant racket) we went of to some bar where we jumped a queue, saw a grumpy Will Carling, watched some rugby match and tallied up a bar tab of about £180 (i think).

But who can forget the beautiful waitress. She was South African (of course), she was pretty, funny, she brought us beer every few minutes and she always bent over so you could see down her top. We were all freaking drunk and freaking horny by the time we left the bar â€" she was perfect. And i believe she accidentally touched my penis whilst serving us. I made sure she knew of that fact and she said that she was glad i felt it. I was too drunk to realise she was patronising me at the time.

By the time were leaving the bar Quintes was very happy and Tim, Pete and Charlie weren't quite comparing to him in terms of happiness. Quintes ran away singing "Bokke, bokke, bokke!" I figured that the hot waitress had touched his penis as well, and Charlie, Tim and Pete didn't get any action, so i promptly ran to join Quintes yelling incomprehensible chatter in celebration of having getting our penis touched.

Our next bar was a classy joint, really nice setting, quiet music and nice calm people drinking inside. They had come to get away from the rugby â€" we had arrived bringing the rugby with us.

We were loud, we were ********; we were banging tables like monkeys and chanting and singing with all our hearts. A few people tried approaching us and telling us to be quiet but that wasn't working, for some reason **** loads of alcohol makes you have no respect for other people's feelings and adrenalin continues to surge throughout.

Haine and Quintes were champion in that bar by chatting up the 2 girls me and Tim liked...but were too lazy to approch.

"Allez le Blanc!" "Allez le Vert!" "Allez le Rugby!" "Allez le Bleus!" "Allez le Rouge!"

Memory hazier than a spring day.

Now for the life of me i can't remember if we went to another bar after this, whether there was in fact another bar prior to the one i just mentioned but all i remember is i chatted up some brazilian girl and her boyfriend; i kissed an Englishgirl outside and i started talking to a bunch of Norwegians when one of them pulled out a special little tin. Just in the nick of time a very drunk Tim approached us and was curious to see what was being offered. He asked the Norwegian,

- What is that? It looks like peat.
- You...you...you pack it down. Like so...

The guy proceeded to squash, what did in fact look like Pete, into a small clump and proceeded to put it in his mouth between his lip and gums.

Tim followed suit not knowing what the hell he was putting in his mouth and as he said commenting on the even the following day, "I probably would have taken an ecstasy pill if i was given it. I was that drunk."

- It's disgusting.

Tim said quite frankly and proceeded to spit it out after only 10 seconds. The Norwegian was probably insulted and probably ****** off, but did Tim care? Did he f***!

Walkabout!!! A dodgy bouncer said all of us could come in if we paid him £30. It seemed like a dodgy deal but someone (not sure who) fronted up £30 for us and we were in Walkabout!!!

My memory is hazy to say the least by here, so i'm going to bullet point the events: -

  • We danced a lot.
  • Someone knicked Tim's English flag, spat on it and threw it on the floor.
  • Tim got a crush on some Saffa girl who was dirty dancing with his flag whilst her boyfriend was standing watching.
  • Pete broke his phone.
  • I lost my really cool wristband to a girl â€" some people say she was a fat minger. Some people were very drunk!
  • Maybe i was very drunk.
  • I ended up with a girl's bracelet on my wrist which i needed Pete to pull off.
  • I didn't see Steve or Haine much.
  • Or Quintes come to think of it.
  • Pete proved that behind his beard he was in fact an 80 year old when he scowled when Linkin Park came on.
  • Pete ordered us out of the club.
Through a series of events, so entirely confusing to me because i was drunk, we left the club. Far too early in the night.

We approached a guy and his girlfriend because we didn't know our way back to our hostel. He told us we were hours away (we were only about 50 minutes walk) and he started moaning about going to a gay club. One of the other boys probably remembers that part better than I. Dragging our feet as we headed back to the hostel Pete got a Burger King and I'm naming such monotonous events only because these are the only things i can remember.

Oh! Either Pete or Charlie got into some weird wheelchair and pushed one another around outside a hospital. I think they were trying to make it up a ramp, but they didn't manage to succeed.

Next thing i remember, we were in a taxi and some cockney geezer was giving us a lift home.


We entered our hostel room and thanked god that we were about to collapse on our beds and get some sleep. I peered out the window only to have Charlie ask,

- Who's bag is that?
- That's Pete's bag.
- It's not my bag.

I was just about to argue with Pete before he alerted us quite boldly,

- Who the f*** is that?!

I turned my head to see, lying directly in front of me on Tim's top bunk, a Little Chinese Guy (LCG) fast asleep.

Out of shock I screamed quite loudly in his face, however the LCG remained asleep. It was only a few seconds later when we had quietened down a little that he woke up. And boy did he wake up. The kid jumped up so startled and didn't know what was happening. He muttered something but none of what he said mattered because before anything else could happen Tim voiced his annoyance to the Chinese man by uttering one sentence: -

- Get the f*** out of my bed!

Followed by a: -

- Get the f*** out of my bed!

Followed by another: -

- Get the f*** out of my bed!

And i believe he may have said it another once or twice after that.

By now the LCG was petrified, and who wouldn't be? There he was in a room with 4 guys â€" all bigger than him â€" and one of them was aggressively yelling at him to...i think the words were, "Get the f*** out of my bed!"

Somone managed to tell Tim to calm down and i went downstairs to tell the guy at reception that, funnily enough, there was a little Chinese man sleeping in one of our beds.

The guy at reception quickly sorted the whole mess out and it turns out the LCG was in our room the following night. After many, "Ah, so sorry." The LCG was still so shaken up and petrified of Tim he even asked Tim's permission to have 2 minutes so he could actually grab his stuff.


The morning after...

We woke at 8.30am to Charlie texting his lover, and occasionally sending his new girlfriend a text. You see, the joke i made there, which Tim and Pete would understand, is that i was calling St.Helens RLFC his lover. Sorry Dan, but he was on the phone to you so often!

Anyway, after having my bed and privacy invaded by Pete for the next hour and a half we finally dragged ourselves out of bed, checked out and knew we needed some food â€" fast.

We had a full english brekkie at a pub, which was awful to be quite frank and we thought we'd do a touristy thing and check out Covent Gardens.

We discovered a truly idillic setting where we sat at a table amongst many others and listened to a very beautiful woman sing some impressive operatic songs. I had an instant crush on her.

We walked around a few shops and decided that we would head to Walkabout to watch Bath vs Newcastle on sky sports.

I decided to take the opportunity to scour all the bookshops that sat opposite Walkabout while the 3 Englishboys sat and watched the Guinnezzzzzzzzzz Premiership.

We had ordered some more awfully unhealthy food and finished it by the time the match was over â€" and alas, the time had come when we had to begin our journey to our homes.

Charlie was the first to leave as stayed on on of the trains in the tube and went straight to his station; Pete then left waving us goodbye from his train as we stood on ours.

Myself and Tim decided to look out for the 2nd of rugby games that was on that day, but unsuccessfully struck upon countless pubs that had no tvs or only showed formula 1 or the football. We sat and had a coke in the last pub and we departed there.

The weekend was immense.

My biggest regret was not being able to spend more time with the boys i hadn't met before (Steve and Quintes) and i wasn't too happy about losing my wrist band in exchange for a girlie breacelet either.

Boys, you were awesome, truly awesome...
Lol. Very funny MAtt. Did you gget my PM and did you call her? [/b]

I've sent her a text and she has given me her details so i can contact her on facebook.
Lol. I can't even remember what she looks like so i'm just waiting to see if i really did have some strong beer goggles on that night.

Jeez, Tim just reminded me of the green Springbok shots we had!
8 shots costed us £30!!!!
Sounds like a great time!

I hope over the next year or so there will be more regular posters from Australia, particularly from NSW/ACT so we can get together for a test match or super 14 game in Sydney.
The one on the left!


You know, considering i was absolutely plastered i think i did pretty well for myself. I've ventured to much uglier places than that whilst wrecked!

So to shut all of you up:

No, she's not fat and not a minger. She's not great looking, but she's not minging.
Ah dude,

Thats top shelf - all the way.

Shes not minging I'll give you that and besides we were all ****** out of our trees, so there are certain tolerances to be taken into account. I remember Sirocco, but am fuzzy with the 1 or 2 bars before Walkabout... where we lost you guys completely. I tend to go walkabout with a few lagers at the best of times!!

Thanks for going to the trouble to allow us to relive the night, and look forward to catching up with all of you again soon.

"It was a game of two halves and the winner on the day was Rugby!!"
Steve mate, SA vs the Baa-Baas is on the 1st of December, you game or are you game?!
Yeah Bro - Book me in. PM me some details so I can send you some dosh and lets get the party started!

Any idea of who is being approached to play for the Bar bars?
Will do mate. I'll book the tickets next week. Anyone else game?

Barbarians - Jason Robinson (ENG), Martyn Williams (WAL), Sebastien Chabal (FR), Matt Giteau (AUS), Jerry Collins (NZ), Paul O'Connell (IRE), Chris Latham (AUS) and Sitiveni Sivivatu (NZ).

Coached by..er...Captain Birdseye.
Damn just realised I can't make this... :(

Also I have found pics for you all...

I'm up for the BaaBaa's game.

Anyone else disappointed how the waitress isn't quite so amazingly hot when you're not drunk?
Guys, seriously, she was like close to a perfect 10 when we were in that bar.
I swear she's just not very photogenic.
In real life that girl is a stunner.
I refuse to believe that i was staring at her through the bottom of a pint glass!


SHE WAS HOT!!!!!!!!!!!
Guys, seriously, she was like close to a perfect 10 when we were in that bar.
I swear she's just not very photogenic.
In real life that girl is a stunner.
I refuse to believe that i was staring at her through the bottom of a pint glass!


SHE WAS HOT!!!!!!!!!!!

Like yours wasn't a Fat old Minger eh....
Guys, seriously, she was like close to a perfect 10 when we were in that bar.
I swear she's just not very photogenic.
In real life that girl is a stunner.
I refuse to believe that i was staring at her through the bottom of a pint glass!


SHE WAS HOT!!!!!!!!!!!

SHE WAS HOT!!!! I CONCUR!!!!!!!!!12121421312e12421eleven31312111

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