With Muzz Comes Mayhem

Not too long ago I had fuck all. No job, I was unemployable. If your job involves spinning roulette wheels and telling cheating cunts that if they do that again they will get bounced down the stairs, sir, then being banned from working in a casino pretty much fucks you. No job obviously means no cash. Can't pay the bills, can't fucking eat properly....

We've all been there, I know.

It wasn't just me in this situation. muzzoid.stumbleupon.com [stumbleupon.com] was in the same boat as me. We were a pair of fucked motherfuckers with thirty years of useless experience between us. A marvellous situation to find yourself in. Days dragged as the distinct lack of possibilities crawled oh so slowly through my mind. They may as well have been doing a fucking cabaret for all the good it did me. I'm sure you can empathise that it was a reasonably unhappy time for me.

One day Muzzoid discovers that he has two pills going spare and has a ten pound note burning a hole in his pocket. Off we trot to a rather trendy part of South London, wondering how fucking messy we can get on a tenner. First up a trip to the off licence for a hip flask bottle of scotch that was promptly trousered. We then necked the pills and purposefully marched into a popular looking pub overlooking the central grassy common surrounded by ridiculously expensive real estate.

"Two cokes please barman".
Back to the table, surreptitious addition of scotch.
Bang.
Down the hatch.
Repeat.

By the third time, I was at the bar asking for the obligatory two cokes and wondering if I could be as nonchalant as possible despite the fact that I was in love with every single person in that room. I was worried that I would draw suspicious glances and was immensely proud that I was seeming to hold it together. I needn't have worried though as I turned back to the table with the drinks in my hand to see Muzzoid raving in his fucking chair. Had he white gloves and a whistle he could have topped it, but only just. Evil grin on his face tipped me over the edge and the rest of the evening was a blur. I can remember both of us making a real nuisance of ourselves. Slapping tables, spilling drinks, shouting profanities and monkey noises, and the zenith was the introduction of the 15 year old smackhead with his glamorous (spotty teenager) assistant. He was fresh into his latest batch and was drooping all over the place as she smoked nervously on the bench opposite us. I can remember both of us laughing at him when he spilt an entire pint of water on his cock. That was funny. I have just been reminded that we also attempted to chat up 3 girls who were peacefully minding their own business in a quiet corner of the bar. A quiet corner of the bar until we breezed into their lives. Muzzoid smashed a drink the very second he sat down. What an entrance. More James Monged than James Bond. As smooth as a bag of frogs. The ladies love that one. Pour a drink over her as a first impression and she will be noshing you off within half an hour. Or not.

I think the final straw was Muzzoid ordering the two cokes at the bar and then not being coherent enough to realise that pouring the secret scotch in at the bar was a bad idea.

I have no idea how we got home without being gang raped by the local basketball team. Or maybe I just blanked it out.