Get away from me you cunts

Posted in Old blogger by Twenty Major on June 30th, 2006

Sitting in a strange bar yesterday afternoon. It was more or less empty. At a table with my drinking chum telling stories.

“Oh, remember that time we ran across the roof tops on Castle Street while off our faces on E and then we heard about that bloke who died trying to climb up a drainpipe?”

“What about the night when I didn’t want to take any drugs because I didn’t want to be wrecked the next day so I drank a bottle of Absolut Blackcurrant. Neat. On my own. And the next day I thought I was dead.”

Oh such fun. Then in come three people. One is a woolly haired cunt. The other is a beardy cunt (but not a good a beard, a student beard). The other guy had a radio.

They have the whole bar to choose from. Empty table after empty table. Countless empty booths. Where do they sit? Beside us. Fucking hell.

Then they proceed to talk loudly about how some guy they work with is a twat because he won’t come drinking with them. But they talk at the kind of volume which would make you think they had been drinking for hours.

“Two Ballygowans and a glass of Heinekn” put that theory to the test.

Me and my drinking chum had to move to get away from them. Why, when there was the whole bar to sit in, did they have to sit next to me? If I had gone to the bog for a piss and one of them had come in they would have respected the urinal code - the pisser furthest away from the nearest pissee - so why couldn’t they have sat somewhere else?

If they ever sit near me again when there’s a whole bar to sit in I am going to kill them.