The seats are very uncomfortable at union chapel though itās a lovely building. Until a week ago I worked opposite it.
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what an elaborate lie.
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Have you met my imaginary friend?
I think youāll find that my modus opererandi involves a fake cast, a side parting and several yards of gaffer tape.
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Iām on the way to being pickled having started drinking in the pub for the Arsenal v man Utd game then the saints game and then the spurs game. Currently posting pool (and losing) and drinking vodka red bull. This could be messy.
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Youāre a lightweight and a bad pool player 
one part of that sentence is true
To be honest, itās really brave of you to go online and admit that youāre a shit pool player.
Only drank four Kronenbourg last night, but they must have gone to my head.
Woke up this morning to discover that Iād bought Nick Cleggās memoirs on Audible.
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Went out to meet up with previous bunch of colleagues last night. had 2 rather strong mai tai rum punches. Agreed to go to Nandos to have a pretty mediocre veggie option with not that great chips. Is the chicken really that good because the rest of the food wasnāt great? Thankfully no hangover or dubious Internet purchases.
Itās read by Nick Clegg as well. I fell asleep listening to it.
Iāve no idea how much damage has been done, if Iām honest. My 'phones had slipped off my ears by time I woke. If Iām lucky, Nickās time with my unconscious mind was minimal. Iāll have a few rough days. Weeping, rocking back and forth in a chair. The usual.
I fear the worst, though, and the worst could have been as long as five hours. The Cleggola virus could already be quietly at work, re-encoding my gene sequence.
If you see me publicly pissing on previously placarded promises, taking conflicting positions when arguing with people of different political stripes, or falling out of a Southampton nightspot, an arm over a pissed-up Royston Smithās shoulder in the spirit of ācoalitionā, youāll know Iāve gone full Clegg and can no longer be helped.
Donāt worry having to go all Walking Dead or anything. The Conservatives have proven very adept at dealing with Cleggs. Stand aside and let them do their work. Do not associate yourself with me or try to help. Was disastrous when for those who stuck up for Patient Zero. There are only eight of the fuckers left.
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We were all hanging from the night before, which is the reason I knew I wasnāt going out. If youāre still about on Sunday come out for beers. Em is coming along too, she the latest repicient of Sfcsimās golden ticket.
Originally posted by @saintbletch
The reason for not making the drinks has more to do with you being there, papster - I tend to end up damaged once Iāve been in your company.
Not denied, but most people see that as an asset.
I am suspicious that you do not, the spider-sense is tingling. It wonāt be long before youāre caught in (for want of a better term) papās web.
I enter the following exhibits into evidence:-
a) the many many tales of unverified bletch solo drunken exploits
b) the many many claims along the lines of āI donāt just drink beer. I drink _crafted _beer. And I donāt just have a piss. I have a _crafted _pissā
c) the relatively few times bletch makes the beers
d) when bletch makes the drinks but not the match, weāre often regaled with tales of how heās quaffing pints in the boozer while weāre on the stands. This is a sub-type of a), but important in its own right.
e) the absolute mess bletch can be turned into with just two hours at the South Western.
Now in bletchās defence, he was one of the most rational heads at the end of walletgate, the epic conclusion of perhaps one of our longest drinking sessions, so maybe, just maybe, bletch is a man that can last the course of a Sotonians drinking event. There was a lot of travel that day though, the drinking was broken up, taking just one victim - the investigative acumen of Fowllyd of the Yard. Could just as easily have been a blip.
Otherwise, Iām left with the picture of an overcompensating lightweight that talks the talk, but gets fucked at the mere thought of drinking. How else does one explain the shirts?
More importantly, how do we reconcile āIām big bad beery bletch, bleary-eyed terror of the towpathā with āIām getting done up by a dwarf in a partying contest?ā.
Personally I reckon bletch is a total lightweight, and trains for these drinking sessions as someone might train for a marathon, starting off sniffing shandies, building up day by day, eventually developing the tolerance to temporarily deal with three pints and mixers over twelve hours.
Finally, and referring back to d), bletch is NOT boozing at a pub during the match. See below for details.
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Shall I take him under my hoof?
Hereās the nice drop of "claretā I was enjoying last night.
I should have got a photo of the bathroom after it was Chrisād. It was like the scene from Carrie at the prom.
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Is that Terry Butcherās daughter on a night out in Sweden?
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Originally posted by @Goatboy
Shall I take him under my hoof?
I donāt need coaching.
The thought of you wanting me to become your āMini Meā fills me with dread - Iām too handsome, too stylish and I just donāt enjoy stalking, killing and (then) defiling prostitutes.
Originally posted by @pap
Originally posted by @saintbletch
The reason for not making the drinks has more to do with you being there, papster - I tend to end up damaged once Iāve been in your company.
Not denied, but most people see that as an asset.
I am suspicious that you do not, the spider-sense is tingling. It wonāt be long before youāre caught in (for want of a better term) papās web.
I enter the following exhibits into evidence:-
a) the many many tales of unverified bletch solo drunken exploits
b) the many many claims along the lines of āI donāt just drink beer. I drink _crafted _beer. And I donāt just have a piss. I have a _crafted _pissā
c) the relatively few times bletch makes the beers
d) when bletch makes the drinks but not the match, weāre often regaled with tales of how heās quaffing pints in the boozer while weāre on the stands. This is a sub-type of a), but important in its own right.
e) the absolute mess bletch can be turned into with just two hours at the South Western.Now in bletchās defence, he was one of the most rational heads at the end of walletgate, the epic conclusion of perhaps one of our longest drinking sessions, so maybe, just maybe, bletch is a man that can last the course of a Sotonians drinking event. There was a lot of travel that day though, the drinking was broken up, taking just one victim - the investigative acumen of Fowllyd of the Yard. Could just as easily have been a blip.
Otherwise, Iām left with the picture of an overcompensating lightweight that talks the talk, but gets fucked at the mere thought of drinking. How else does one explain the shirts?
More importantly, how do we reconcile āIām big bad beery bletch, bleary-eyed terror of the towpathā with āIām getting done up by a dwarf in a partying contest?ā.
Personally I reckon bletch is a total lightweight, and trains for these drinking sessions as someone might train for a marathon, starting off sniffing shandies, building up day by day, eventually developing the tolerance to temporarily deal with three pints and mixers over twelve hours.
Finally, and referring back to d), bletch is NOT boozing at a pub during the match. See below for details.
My inability to drink is both legendary and innate and iām very proud of it.
You can take your macho āI can drink more than Bletchā and stick it up your too-low-to-the-ground arse.
That is no claim at all!
Itās a bit like saying you can beat Stephen Hawking at arm-wrestlingā¦
I think itās because Iām only half Irish; the other half is Australian aboriginal.
Like all aboriginal people we were only introduced to alcohol when the westerners arrived, I lack the gene that your people have to process the harmful effects of your western alcohol.
However, the Irish side of me means I donāt have an off-switch. So once you put a beer in my hand I donāt stop drinking until Iām either punching lights (ask Rust Cohle), or on my back and unconcioius - thatās usually about 37 seconds later.
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So you know your hangover is of āweapon gradeā standard when you are worried about not being fit to drive to the game this afternoon.
Is my piss supposed to have a head on it?