The Day After
Jesus. What a night. Loads of pals rocked up and we hit the big one, big time.
Checked for venues on derelictlondon – and chose this party paradise from a selection of recently added empty shitholes:
Camelot Fasions in Aldgate.
Bit of a shlep, but well worth it. I tell you, derelictlondon is a party pigeon’s dream.
Managed to sip a bit of spillage on the way, so fairly tanked by the time we got there. Don’t remember much apart from giving myself a black eye on some sharp edging.
Today, however, was a total fucking mess-up. Woke up slumped in a corner with Mart lying on top of me. Beak like a dead man’s slipper. Mart said I smelt like someone had shat on my head and suggested we head for Pigeon Pond for a bit of a wash. Trouble is, Pigeon Pond is all the way over in White City. Pigeon Pond is a shallow water feature right near the BBC, so great for spotting celebrities like Jeremy Clarkson or Mylene Klass.
Seeing as flying all the way was obviously out of the question, Mart suggested we take the tube. So me, Mart and Doug, who decided to join us despite the fact he said he’d gone blind, headed West. Made it as far as Hammersmith, fuck knows how, when Doug declared his eyesight had returned and he had to puke.
I tell you what, I’ve never seen a pigeon sick-up as much as Doug did. Fucking piles of it. Reckon he nearly lost an intestine.
This is him, heaving for London:
Mind you – spot on when we got to White City. Instantly felt like a new pigeon. Sadly, Doug didn’t make it and sloped off for some eye rest by the river.
This is me, splashing around:
Frankly, with the head still thumping, it was more sitting than splashing.
Cheers again, Time Out. Despite having the worst hangover in living memory, I’m on top of the world!
Leave a Comment
Be the first to comment!