Climbing Up The Walls – Strange Talk
Bobby Beard. Nobby No Beard. Polly and Esther. Spanish Dexter (Spandex). Vinnie ‘The Straight’ Sanchez. Amazing week. Concocted some amount of new characters to talk to in my head. Some gibber. Speaking of which, Saturday night was amazing. In the sense it was the first Saturday in donkeys that I didn’t DJig. Night off. Oh Betsy. Even better, mighty party to go to. Buddy’s one year wedding anniversary. Up in the hills. Out the back of his mighty garden. Chandeliers dangling from trees. Lights sparkling in the bushes. All done up. Looking savage. Tables. Bar. Music. Food. Party on! Told it was a casual affair. Dress casually. OK. Show up. Everyone else more or less suited and booted. Mighty. Oh yeah. It was casual. But then I just found out it’s kind of formal too. Ah you’ll be grand!
Savage party in fairness. Host happens to have just arrived back from a musical tour of Europa. Watched a bit of footage of that. Looked beyond unreal. Funreal unreal. Singing in front of 70,000+ people must be some buzz. Mental stuff. Must admit I’m looking forward to doing my stand-up stadium tour even more after watching it. You know, once this book is finished and all. Obviously. Here’s an amazing photo showing me having an amazing time…
Surprising twist in the night. Game of bingo set up after dinner. Big board. Bingo caller. Lights. Prizes. Bingo though? Fair enough. Let’s give it a whirl. Little did I know, I might have found a new vice. Bingo. Is. Gripping. Calling out the numbers. Having a laugh. Slightly sleazy old man in charge getting turned on for Ohhh, ohh yes… O-69. Oh Jesus. Good laugh. And then you get one. Still having a laugh. And then you get another few. Now you’re not having as much as a laugh. Now you’re kind of more wanting to win. Just need one more for bingo. Come on, B1! Just give me a B1. B… Here we go… 7. B7? No. B1?! Hear someone at another table joyously shouting ‘BIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNGGGGGOOOOOO!’ While you sit there. Screaming. Noooooo. Hands on head. Head in hands. Recount. Check again. B1?! Ughatha!!!
Only played about 5 games. However. Enough to hook me in for life I’d say. Gave me a taste. First one free. Oh dear Jesus God Betsy. Give me more. Hit me. BINNNNNNGGGGOOOOO! Won a nice pair of cashmere socks. Unreal high. Devastating low to lose the next few then though. By the end I was getting heart palpitations. Just one more game. One more! PLEASE!!! Started getting pins and needles in my left arm. Needed a seat. Realised I was hooked. Nice new vice for me to have. Speaking of vice. I think vice lessons are going to have to start again soon. No one could understand me all weekend. At one point I tried to tell a chef that I was a big fan of the chicken. All I ended up saying to the person was: Chicken. That’s it. One word. Splurted out. No context. Just a confused look. So I gave them a knowing nod. Quick smile. And then just walk away. Chicken on.
My cruel hangover might have contributed slightly to my loss of speech too. Speaking of cruel, I had to some laundry today. Made me have a few flashbacks while washing what I’ve worn this weekend. Backsplash flashbacks, to be exact. Not a fan of backsplash. Urinals. Wearing flip flops. Some dose. At times it seems like I’m just aiming directly at my feet. Delightful. Not sure how to stop it either. Sit in the urinal? Just hold it in? Maybe just not wear flip flops. Probably. Not a big fan of wetting my own feet while I P. Diddle. Even less so someone else’s ends up on me. High fives in public bathrooms are never a good idea. DJigging Sunday. Bathroom break. Guy in there next to me asks am I DJing? Indeed. I like the music man. Cheers. High five. Ehh. OK. One of the Kardashians. Brody. Scuttle off to go back DJigging while he goes to wash his hands. Changing the song. Realise my hand’s wet? But I dried them fully? Huh? Hmmm. Compute. His hand was wet before he washed them? Oh. Right. Lovely. Splashback Mountain.
Like that dive about, dodgy bit of name dropping, to be true. Just wanted to utilise the phrase backsplash flashback, to be truer. To make things even dodgier, in that bathroom I’ve actually met a fair few names which could be dropped to increase readership. Russell Brand. Jason Segel. Cate Blanchett. Shepard Fairey. All in that very little bathroom. Amazing. Urine. Bingo. Vice lessons. I think that’s about covered everything. Quiet week down the writing well. Book is dancing along. Just forgot how long it takes. Still feeling a tad bit shook from the weekend. Few nightcaps Sunday up in the Yacht in the Sky. Another savage mansion up the top of the hills. All this mansion malarky comes highly recommended. Maybe not so much having to go up and down seven flights of stairs, but that is a merely a small price to pay for such luxuries.
Might have to take up a kind offer and spend a few days up there this week writing. Purely as it’d be more conducive to writing. Obviously. All aboot the writing. And the cashmere socks. Pre-tty savage. I do believe they might just solve my urinal problem too. Wet feet off. Socks and flip flops on? Oh Betsy!
As Vinnie ‘The Straight’ Sanchez always says: Now we’re dancing!
And as Nobby No Beard might sometimes mutter: Beards are weird.
Indeed they are Nobby, indeed they are.
At Home – Crystal Fighters