Monday, 8 September 2008

Upper Odlington

This weekend we all journeyed through torrential rain to visit Alistair in Manchester. His house (pictured right) was full to the brim with money and pheasants and fox-hunting trophies. Rah!

By early evening, a whole host of engineers had arrived - not to mention Robzilla - and we ate BBQ, sang songs and drank everything.

We eventually found our way into central Manchester where me and Sean were denied entry to a club because we were wearing trainers. We hatched a cunning plan and returned five minutes later wearing black socks over our trainers. I had even put my t-shirt over the top of my shirt.

Unfortunately, the bouncer saw through my cunning disguise... so I offered him £70. That didn't work either. Although we did make him laugh a lot.

Plan B: myself, Sean and Mark left the group and got battered in a different club. And I literally can't tell you anything else about the following six hours.

Suffice it to say, we rocked up at Alistair's house at 4.30am after spending £32 on a taxi. And there was an empty bottle of wine by my bed.

Jolly good lash was had by all. Bosh!

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