So I went up north last Thursday and Friday. Where to begin. As soon as my ginger chauffer (Stewie) took me from Banbury into Huddersfield you could isntantly feel the dreary ‘ey up’ crap of the north. The whole of huddersfield is just a depressing brown. So we finally arrive quite late and fuelled on a MOTO Stop Burger King and got cracking on the beer (or in my case red wine. Which is sweet, low percentage and expensive as fuck up north). Anyway after an hour or two of north south divide banter we set off. Student union, get in through the bloody incredibly lax security who don’t really give a shit. Get on the shots and corona. Some ladies already checking out yours truely, only for one to ask who stewie was. Now correct me if I’m wrong, but hes a ginger tard with a massive forehead/brow thing (look at my facebook). Compared to me the tall dark and handsome sex god. This obviously infuriated me and thus spurred me on to get completely oblitarated on alcohol. So the crew being me, stew, tony the darkie (hes a brummie whos like half asian or something) and the big chinned manc ben. We meet with alan…the nerd whos bought some girl who short with ‘look at this’ cleavage. Oh yeah then we met Kat and Vic, old uni friends. More friends of the rest of em. So enough on them. Right, then we went to the cherry tree..which in essence is basicalyl the local weatherspoons. Here I begin more getting insanely wasted. Then we move to the local hotspot the Camel Club. Here can be summed up thusly : Me talking to lots of girls, drinking some of a birthday boys dirty pint. Talking to more girls, dancing with a few, having Kat throw her tits in my face for every girl i talk to. Coming onto cleavage girl having alans tits thrown in my face. Some more sambuca and absinthe. More chatting to girls…then blur…then blank…then waking up in my old uni flats. That was thursday. A good thursday at that. Now Friday, down here in the south its probably done quite differently. Down in the south Friday night is the night to go out and kick off the weekend and get drunk/sex/drugs etc. Up north it seems friday is the night to stay in and only hot blonde divorcees go out. Which I have no problem with, just the total lack of atmosphere is clearly a problem. Lots of scary big skinhead miner types were out too though, so the soft southerner in me was agitated. Anyway, I got a hot bar maids number which I then in what can only be described as ‘a fit of fucking retarded drunkeness’ threw away. It was on a flyer to be fair. Then I got a hot hot hot blonde ladies number. And then I got a lovely girls number who had a tatoo on her face. Kick ass. Anyway. Lots of numbers. Thus proving drunken Rieger is an idiot as what am I going to do with these numbers when I live the other side of the country. The gang (how gay) all just reminisced on old times, and got drunk again. Stew did the unthinkable and managed to go shopping in Sainsbury’s, whilst totally wasted…granted at 6am in the morning. I was probably still in that all night cocktail bar coming onto the table and a lamp. We all got back and all 4 of us slept in a double bed. Next morning wake up only to have ben the manc basically slap his cock inbetween my pecs, thus effectivally I gave a northen rugby meathead a boob job. That was the highlight of the saturday…was a pretty shit saturday as you can probably tell. We got up..watched some porn and left. McDonalds as usual in the north is full of filthy tramps and sexy 13 year old girls with plastic hair and cans of carling, wierdly enough made me miss the little shitty chavs from Ruislip as at least they hangaround OUTSIDE the stores/fast food restraunts and are mildly better to look at. Then all say goodbyes and off i go back to Ruislip. Which is unfortunatly my friend peanuts birthday night out. Before reaching home I felt awesome…a 3 night bender. A few meters from home I begin to make incredibly loud whooping and grumbling noises, like ‘arraaarrr goooosh arrrr’ and start getting the shakes. For anyone that knows Tom Sibley think of his noises mulitplied by 10 in volume as I had my mp3 on. I then get baaad shakes and can barely stand. I get home say hello to family but soldier on. Glasgow shower it (put deodrant on and dont have a shower) and a nice suit and go out. The night ends up me slumped in a seat in the nightclub wondering how someone can feel like I do but still be alive. Then outside the club, bizarrely I felt threatened by big angry northeners but didn’t see one fight, but in Watford 1 fight, and I got started on for what I can only assume was because I am incredibly good looking. Nothing came of it as I was armed with a kebab and Sibley was next to me. Anyway suffice to say next day I was dead. That sums up the weekend. Yes….I’m bored.
