As the freezing winter wind blew in, from deepest Siberia, the evening started at The Shaston, (the pub famed for it's dodgey beer). A large crowd gathered to see-off Danny Morris, to pastures new. Bored with everyone whinging about the cold, barnes removed his jumper and spent the rest of the evening in just a T-shirt. A few Mill-Film types, including Ben and is lovely missus Ingrid, commented on the absense of Caberet Connor. The call was placed, but no response.
Andy Wheater arrived about 8.30 and after one pint suggested moving to the Star & Garter, to meet up with Luds. He is now deeply in love, had already left, presumably to curl up with Alex and watch Celebrity Big Brother. Andy spent the next 10 minutes, pushing damp tissue into a paper dart made from the lining of a fag packet. The punch-line of this magic trick, was when he sneezed and at the same time launched the dart up to the ceiling, where it lives to this day.
Just then the phone rang. It was Connor and he was in the Blue Posts. From that point on, a late night was certain. Connor was out with Richard Little, a great bloke who is now carrying a few extra seasonal pounds. He thought that this alone, justified the drinking of WHITE WINE SPRITZER'S. He was wrong. We were later joined for a while by the badger.
By closing time, Badger & Spritzer Boy, had left for the last train, the ceiling of the Blue Posts was sporting a "Fag packet dart" and the three of us were heading for Garlic & Shots. 3 Blood Shots, 3 beers, and a mad moment later, Connor had his laptop out in a very crowded bar, listening to "Death Metal". He was half way through showing his first photo of Al Burg(?), in Dubai, when a bottle of Swedish beer, went over his computer. Oh dear. At least he remembered to take the battery out. One paper dart launched and........
..... we were in the Arts Bar. Red Bull & Vodka, it's 3.30am, dart attached to low ceiling, and we're walking to Donassis for a chicken swarmer. It was closed, as was the Spanish bar.
Taxi to Phil's flat, stopping off at the "seven eleven" for a microwave curry, micro chips, a jar of spicy olives and a lion bar. Tele on. Watched a whole episode of Priest Idol, just because it was set in Barnsley.
Crashed 5am.
Good work
