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Add page to: Add page to: Band X is playing London. Darcy wants to see a band in London (They Might Be Giants) the night before our friends' gig is on. So I make some calls, let Band X's tour manager know we're coming (so he knows to put us on the guestlist), and myself, Darcy and four friends jump on a plane to London. Band X plays. We have a ball. Loads of people we know who have emigrated (short-term) to London turn up, and much fun and merriment is had.
Then we go out. This Irish chap has bought a trendy nightclub, he loves Band X, and invites us all to his club. The first thing Darcy noticed was it had a glass ceiling, so you could see the underwear of the girls dancing above. I, being drunk already, do not notice this. (I still don't recall it). The owner is buying us all drink (well, it's his drink anyway), and we're having a fine old time. He must have given me 10 Whiskey Sours in the space of an hour or so. It's time to leave, and S (singer) of Band X has had this tall blonde at him all night. He's trying to be polite and get her to go away at the same time, but she's not moving. Being the nice chap he is, he just tries to ignore her. Suddenly, 'BANG' and she's on the floor. She's so drunk she's just collapsed in her high heels, legs akimbo. I couldn't help it; I started laughing. Hard. It just came out.
A while later, we're all leaving, jumping into cabs to the hotel. S gets into a cab with a couple of our friends, who, the next day, relate this story:
(You must first know that London black cabs are built so that you can only sit in the back, with a partition with a hole in it between the driver and the clients). The blonde girl jumps into the cab next to S. She's all over him, asking about staying in his room and all the rest. My friends distract her with inane conversation, and S has a brainstorm. He leans into the partition, slides £20 through it, and says to the cab driver: 'when we get to the hotel, we're gonna jump out, but I want you to bring this girl to wherever she lives'
. The cab pulls up at the hotel, and everyone gets out. The girl slides over to get out, S slams the door before she can reach it, and the cab driver takes off!
They come into the plush foyer of the hotel, and the rest of the band and myself are already in stitches because B (bass player), at 5am or so in the morning, has just had an argument with the night porter because he wants, (you can guess), an egg fucking sandwich. He eventually gets one, but it looks like a superglue sandwich, and he can't eat it anyway. I have some. It ain't that bad.