Anyone want to hear a story about me being a dick?

My whole office went out for a drink on Thursday night. We have 6 new starters joining us on Monday. New starters are always invited out with us the Thursday before they join to get wrecked and break the proverbial ice.

I've mentioned on here beofre that I work in the Media industry. 98% of the industry in populated with offensively narcissistic drones who are more concerned with their blue tooth headsets and Blackberry Pearls. I wish them Cancer on a daily basis.

Two things are immediately apparent here.

1. I do not care for 98% of my co-workers

2. 6 new starters in an office is an opportunity, however slight, for the odd OK person to slip through the media industry keep net. Maybe, just maybe 1 of these people would brighten my working day by being a non wanker.

We reserved 3 tables at the swankiest bar in Soho for the evening. Drop the "S" and that perfectly describes the clientelle and bar staff that were present. New starters arrived and the CEO put his card behind the bar (idiot) and invited us to help ourselves. We subsequently hit the bar with force and the beers and cocktails were flowing as if provided from above by a caring God feeding his starving Israelites in the desert.

After circulating with the new guys I have this to report:

4 were typical media employees and ergo of zero interest to me
1 was dressed like a clown, gayer than John Inman and used the word Cunt half a dozen times within the first half hour. He may be some use to the team
1 was a young lady who had joined to be the PA to the CEO. She seemed nice, Quite pleasant actually.

An hour or four into proceedings we were all on our way to being predictably leathered. I had raced ahead of the crowd a little and was being generally raucous. One of my new co-workers commented in a jovial fashion that I was hammering it somewhat and behaving like a bit of an animal. He cannot have been referring to me. Absolutely everything I was saying was witty, intelligent and of interest to EVERYONE at the bar. That was the reason I was saying it in such a loud voice and sloshing my drink around to exacerbate my extremely pertinent observations.


I decided that enough was enough for the evening and stumbled out to get a cab home. I stopped off to buy a sandwich and found myself an illegal cab driven by a big African man. We agreed a price of £25. In I jumped and tore into the sandwich like a caveman hollowing out a Brontosaurus, spilling a few pieces of lettuce onto the leather seats of his precious Mercedes. He shouted at me, I shouted back (with food in my mouth, classy). The shouting festival got more and more heated until the only word audible from him was "LETTUCE" and the only word audible from myself was "CUNT". We had built up quite a rapport on the journey and things were going swimmingly as we turned into my road. Unfortunatelty I chose that exact moment, mid shout, to vomit on his precious leather seats. I am very proud of that. Like, really really proud.

Soon, parked up outside my place, he had added a new word to his screaming vocabulary. Unfortunately he was adding my word to his plainly stuck record. I threw £50 in his general direction and got out and stumbled up my path half listening to the words cunt and lettuce being screamed at me. I was also immensely glad that all my neighbours were hearing all of this.

The hangover on Friday was due payment for my behaviour.

Probably the worst I have ever experienced, and I knew I deserved it.