This is scarily reminiscent of my best mate from uni (now a highly respected figure in local government). He grew up in a dodgy bit of Liverpool and used to insist on going to the sort of pub where people got their arms cut off with axes.
Yes, this chap is similar. Maybe it's partly the upper-middle-class-ness of their current jobs that drives them to try to reconnect with their roots in crummy dives.
2009-04-03 13:09 (UTC)
I say you just celebrate both days at once - starting on his & ending on hers.
2009-04-06 09:36 (UTC)
That's pretty much the way it worked out.
I checked #3, because it was the most appealing. But #2 is definitely a good idea. You could shout "Valhalla!" _as_ you're riding home in the taxi...
We took a taxi, but it didn't take us home. It took us from Soho to Dalston (a very dodgy, but very fun, part of London). It was a good thing we had a stoic taxi driver, too, as the shouting and the waving of plastic swords would have unnerved a less seasoned person.
sounds like you had fun!
i don't suppose there is any photographic evidence? :)
Just one. It looks like the Viking is strangling the bloke!
I'm always a supporter of keeping an extra bit of cash in yer 'high-pocket' (late dear Gramma's label) for just such an occasion. One never knows...
Your late, dear Gramma's label is awesome and I intend to try to work it into my speech as much as possible.
Indeed. One also never knows when one will end up dancing in a seedy bar in Dalston at 3 AM.
Even when I was making a bit of money for myself I couldn't stand going to upscale places. It's sketchy dives that give you the best stories.
And allow you to steal plastic swords by hiding them down your bloke's trousers. Oh yes.
I wanted to tick #2 & #3 *pout*.
On the plus side, HTML allows me to do this...
Sorry no ticky boxes. But kudos on your solution.
I always carry at least a hundred in my boots before heading out for shore leave. I'm not telling which boot though...
Not the same one as your knife? That's a mix-up I can see displeasing the bartender...
Do the sensible thing...take a cab home next day. Do the valhalla thing as well.
Your predictive ability is powerful. This all happened. With plastic swords.
Ah, the first one would have been unwise. The Norwegian was finally chucked out of the flat we ended up sleeping in at 4:30 in the morning.