Friday, November 26, 2004
It's 2am, im sitting up downloading Dido's new album Porn, msn-chatting to a couple of insomniacs and waiting, it must be said - friskily - for my girlfriend to get her 3-hole Golf Course-self home so i can stop looking lustily at the gap in my teeth. I'm already in pyjamas and have been since Wednesday, and when I hear the keyhole of our front door being scratched with a little drunken wail of girlitude come from without, i spring to attention in, um, both ways and rush to the door. I fling it open and stand before my love, proud. Except the girl i'm going to impale in about 6 seconds has become a tall, young Irish couple with a doorkey and no fucking clue where they live. All three of us jump back in shock and i've still got my hand on my chest as they launch into a big, loud and drunken explanation of what the fuck is going on. It seems they've been given a key to their friend's flat, in my block, while she's away on holiday. They don't know the number and only dimly remember being there a few minutes this morning. So they decided they'd better try every sticking the key into every door in the building! There are a good 18 of those.
They are, to their credit, HORRIFICALLY DRUNK, and somehow polite and quite charming. Seh peers inside and pronounces that the layout is exactly the same so they must be on this side of the block, just a different floor. He's pulling her back out and profusely apologising. I tell them really, they're not to worry, as im waiting up anyway. And then...and then...from nowhere they turn to eachother and go
"ah would you look at him, he's sitting up waiting for his date - you can see he's ready for a shag, look!"
and they do! down. i don't. I'm terrified, pretty sure im not poking out but i can sense i've got at least 'a semi'. I wished then, as i wish now, that i was drunk at the time so i could not give a shit. Then they apologise for disturbing me once again and wish me 'a goodnight and a good shag'!
half an hour later, there's a scratching at the door, another drunken whimper and another girder in my loins and the EXACT same episode is enacted all over again. Door flung, weapon loaded, fully cocked, same couple, same reaction, SAME fucking explanation. They were so pissed they forgot they'd tried my door already. And they go back into the 'he's waiting for a shag' routine. I tell them to just fucking come in, even though they want to try the key in my neighbours' doors (whom i know not to be their friend). They are somehow drunker than before and im starting to think it's a ruse. They've heard all about my bogey collection maybe. They take long pisses in my toilet as i show them round the flat and ask them clever questions about the flat they should be in. Questions like 'is it on the ground floor?', 'is the kitchen here, there or where?' and the clincher 'what do you see out of your balcony?'. Meanwhile, she protests that the real problem must be that 'the key is badly cut, look, see? it doesnt fit any of the doors'.
By a process of elimination and desperation, I figure out precisely which door they need to go to and tell them so. I'm not some kind of genius, no, im just not fucking drunk and i know the layout of the building. As they leave, i tell them i'm sticking the kettle on this time.
Half an hour later still, there is a fumbling at the door and a key scraping across. Before i even get to the door, and im ambling this time with no hint of a stork on, they ring the FUCKING DOORBELL! And I open it to find my poor dear girlfriend, drunk as a pig and all danced out from a night entertaining some saddo clients at Lillie's (a reference for my one Irish reader:).
And she is the very dictionary definition of that famous Dead Kennedy's tune
So i do it to her anyway
|
They are, to their credit, HORRIFICALLY DRUNK, and somehow polite and quite charming. Seh peers inside and pronounces that the layout is exactly the same so they must be on this side of the block, just a different floor. He's pulling her back out and profusely apologising. I tell them really, they're not to worry, as im waiting up anyway. And then...and then...from nowhere they turn to eachother and go
"ah would you look at him, he's sitting up waiting for his date - you can see he's ready for a shag, look!"
and they do! down. i don't. I'm terrified, pretty sure im not poking out but i can sense i've got at least 'a semi'. I wished then, as i wish now, that i was drunk at the time so i could not give a shit. Then they apologise for disturbing me once again and wish me 'a goodnight and a good shag'!
half an hour later, there's a scratching at the door, another drunken whimper and another girder in my loins and the EXACT same episode is enacted all over again. Door flung, weapon loaded, fully cocked, same couple, same reaction, SAME fucking explanation. They were so pissed they forgot they'd tried my door already. And they go back into the 'he's waiting for a shag' routine. I tell them to just fucking come in, even though they want to try the key in my neighbours' doors (whom i know not to be their friend). They are somehow drunker than before and im starting to think it's a ruse. They've heard all about my bogey collection maybe. They take long pisses in my toilet as i show them round the flat and ask them clever questions about the flat they should be in. Questions like 'is it on the ground floor?', 'is the kitchen here, there or where?' and the clincher 'what do you see out of your balcony?'. Meanwhile, she protests that the real problem must be that 'the key is badly cut, look, see? it doesnt fit any of the doors'.
By a process of elimination and desperation, I figure out precisely which door they need to go to and tell them so. I'm not some kind of genius, no, im just not fucking drunk and i know the layout of the building. As they leave, i tell them i'm sticking the kettle on this time.
Half an hour later still, there is a fumbling at the door and a key scraping across. Before i even get to the door, and im ambling this time with no hint of a stork on, they ring the FUCKING DOORBELL! And I open it to find my poor dear girlfriend, drunk as a pig and all danced out from a night entertaining some saddo clients at Lillie's (a reference for my one Irish reader:).
And she is the very dictionary definition of that famous Dead Kennedy's tune
|
Comments:
Post a Comment
