Never Too Late!

Never Too Late!
any resemblance to anyone real or imaginary is mere bad luck
we are all lying in the gutter, but some of us are trying to get up


Party myths Debunked

So it happen like this that on Saturday I am invited to the house-warming party of some friends. I am horrendously drunk when I arrive, because that's how I am all the time these days. Almost all English people here; exotic. Everyone sitting around and I am fuming and want to give them all ecstasy or kick them so they jump up and dance - and in the end they do, the music is good and loud and everyone is moving their ass on the dancefloor and it is nice...

Downstairs in the kitchen there are load of these rude-boy types sitting around... the people live here are deeply civilised and involved in jazz and classical music for a living, and I'm wondering how they know people like this? Ok, everything cool, they're offering me lines of c and someone keeps my vodka tonic fresh and I'm having a great time, everyone is beautiful... There is like this Italian chick and some other girl against the wall kissing and tonguing each other obscenely for our benefit...

Maybe it's at this point things are getting rowdy? I can feel it, there is gonna be a fight... Things are getting a bit messy, cocaine and alcohol are factors, there is gonna be some stupid fight over a girl or something... Shit, I have another party to go to anyway cause I promised my friends months ago... These guys in the kitchen are suddenly looking very ugly and someone is threatening to kick my fucking head in and fuck knows, maybe knives are coming out soon, but I'm leaving anyway... [Afterwards I find out things did get messy, J got smacked around the head and someone was thrown down the stairs and like this... and who were these people? The front door was open...]

It is about 5am and I have to get to the depths of East London. How the fuck? I know, I'll take the motorbike. This is an email I wrote to a friend when I was at home to pick up the bike:

i got that sihhti??

i'm really fucked up goonna take theb ike tro esat .londohn. oar

So. On the way somewhere, I slam the bike into the back of a car without even slowing. I am here now, alive and walking. I stashed it in an alley in Whitechapel somewhere. I hope the firestarter kids didn't get it yet.

How was the party? The Debunker party? Look, this is a party/club review of sorts as well... How was it? Um. Techno. I don't know if you like techno. It was good techno. The damn thing is the people I have the misfortune to know who come with it. If you look up the page, you will find a word portrait of one such.

I missed the bands. I missed Smatka Molot, who I should have gone to see just for the name, who are German and they are sexy go-go girls playing intense psycho rock n' roll. Next time...

It was my squat party friends' bid to go legal, and it seem to have worked... No one got stabbed or mugged, the surroundings were almost squalid enough to suit people's tastes, and people were even smiling... And it's all over so soon, and I find myself lifting gear into vans and I don't know why cause I didn't sign up for this... Loads of junk computer monitors, for example, which the excellent Nitin wires up in some mysterious way and then plays the bank of monitors like an instrument... It growls like an angry giant synth or something...

On Monday morning I feel like I've been beaten with an iron bar and there are four empty vodka bottles in the rubbish.