Couscous, Man or Myth!

My opening gambit to the attractive lady sitting next to me at the wedding reception this weekend, but where are my manners let me begin my tale at an apporiate juncture. But just so you know, its a myth.

So it has started, my first wedding for one of my friends and it is like that little snowball that starts an avalanche, they will all be at it now. I am safe I hope from the ensuing carnage in my specially designed bunker that has walls reinforced by immaturity, acute fear of commitment and the thought of bringing ALL my extended family into the vicinity of one another.

The full ex-Leeds uni crew was assembled, suited and booted, dressed and pressed and ready for action on what turned out to be a fabulously sunny day. Even the 1million yards of wool in my kilt, the shirt, bowtie, waistcoat and overcoat could not repress the excellent mood. A very English church and an even more English country hotel were the perfect location and cold pints on the lawn were the order of the day.

The meal was quality, but served as it was after 3 hours drinking, free wine and champagne and to those like me also suffering sun stroke and heat exhaustion, a little taxing to fully appreciate. I did salivate over the children’s offering of sausage and chips, lucky bastards! Anyway the table set-up found our Leeds group split in two and on top of us there was one couple and 3 single girls. I would like to feel it was my brave (read drunken) off the wall comment regarding the conspiracy that is couscous that set the ball rolling, the bride however drunkenly assured me it was her match making seating plan that was responsible; then she she patted me condescendingly on the head, winked and shot me the double finger guns.

Other moments of note include :

• If you object to why the bride and groom get married, then do a runner before explaining why, the wedding is postponed until the reason can be investigated. That is why ushers at some weddings are armed with stun guns, to prevent escape.
• English people eating pork crackling like it was highland toffee coated in crack
  Carry out draft beer being served in 2 pint milk carton style affairs, brilliant!
  
• A geordie sex ninja patrolling for fornicators in the hotel grounds.
  
• Rally driving taxis trying to beat the time back to our B&B, I believe ours won. At one point the car left the ground going over a bridge, holy fuck!
  
• Drunken squadie keeping me awake for the whole delayed flight back to Inverness with jokes so lame even Dr Dolittle would have put them out of their misery. No sleep, hangover gaining momentuum and I am stuck next to this twat explaining again he is bald because he used to break dance and the friction removed his hair. Really, wow thats onlthe 156th time you ahve told me that and it gets more beleiveable AND FUNNY every time you tell me. Tosser!

Weddings are Ok in my book, I wait with baited breath for the next one to see if this trend continues or was a chance fluke.

The Tag Gauntlet

[RULES - Once you've been tagged, you have to write a blog with 8 facts/things/habits about yourself, saying who tagged you. In the end you need to choose the 6 people to be tagged and list their names. No tag backs.]

With two tags from Poosie Kat and Drunken Nurse I had better get this done before everyone I know tags me and I cannot back tag. OK so 8 things that you might possibly like to know:

8) I love el-wire so much because it greatly reduces the chance of me being run over whilst inebriated, I can find my clothing in the dark (in a hurry if need be) and it means I get served faster at the bar; well every bar outside of Black Rock City that is.

7) I am banned from the city Loughborough after an incident involving some space cookies, a one-man pub-crawl, a toy gun and their ENTIRE police force. Its also the only time I have seen up the barrels of 9 automatic machine guns, its an interesting perspective but not for the faint hearted.

6) Health food is a myth propogated by cunning hippies who have turned capatilist. Particularly couscous which is a PR coup in itself, as it does not actually exist. Linda McCartney has a lot to answer for.

5) Meeting new people is an addiction of mine, I cannot control it and I know it can be very annoying to people whom I am out with. On any trip from A to B I can be trusted to get distracted by X, Y and Z, completely forget about why I was leaving A in the first place and eventually show up at B with nothing more than a bemused smile to explain my absence.

4) If I won the lottery I would have the best buyers rating on ebay the world has ever seen!

3) Alcohol is not my friend, yet despite this I ask it out to play nearly every weekend (and most school nights) despite my catastrophic behaviour and shame ridden feelings I experience afterwards. I will always forgive it and can never forget it. Why, well it has increased the depth and breadth of my after dinner anecdotes no end.

2) NICE an adjective that has been used to describe me yet upon hearing it, I regard as an insult not a compliment. If the sum of my being can only be described by someone as nice then they, frankly can fuck right off. Saying that though, I do understand why people can come to this conclusion and am attempting to muster a less caustic reply; expect time of arrival 2039.

1) YOU ARE ALL FUCKING DOOMED! Public health announcement brought to you courtesy of Apokiliptika BM2006

Right I am sending my tag out to Pepper, Muffin, Turtle, Jellyfish, Martina and Heaven&Hell. You ar now it...or else!

Lizard Conspiracy

Old people are lizards with white hair, seriously think about it.

1. They have to walk on the sunny side of a road or they slow down
2. They do not blink nearly enough to be mammalian
3. They always complain about being cold, even in summer
4. They come in a variety of forms and colours to fit their local niche
5. They stick when you throw them at a wall, no wait thats cooked spaghetti! They have skin that is more akin to a horny toad than human.

Research continues to pinpoint the exact nature of the switch, anecdotal evidence suggests it is roughly the same time that flat caps and walking sticks are introduced.

Dougaldutch

Weekend Pass

A weekend pass was issued from the powers on high and an exploratory recce of the Fat Boy Slim gig was planned. To minimise suspicion this was in the form of a booze cruise around Loch Ness organised through the works social committee; really a front for my more mainstream activities.

Hair was primed to a magnificent peak, buttons were full polished and a sneaky hipflask stowed for those critical moment when the queue to the bar is just too long. On my march along the canal side to rendezvous with the boat I found a fine bicycle half submerged in the canal. With some careful footing and a lot of grunt I the cycle was free of its watery resting place. I stashed this in some bushes for extraction later (I collected on Sat morning and gifted it to my neighbour as it was still in better nick than his current bike).

The vessel was perfect with seating upstairs, a well stocked bar (if you liked miller) and a mix of people. Primary complaint lay in the disco that was provided, it was so awful as to force people to brave the wind and cold spray on the top deck, as far away s you could get. It was 8pm and the DJ thought that with an competely deserted dance floor, grease lighting was just the dab to get people dancing. Enough was enough, DJ was taken aside for a quite word and the threats of drowning if he continued with his current intents. This had the desired effect and the critical cheese threshold was not breached again, there was much celebration.

Those lucky souls that have never experienced the Loch Ness and are going to RockNess are going to be stunned, turn 180 degrees around from the stage and look out over the Loch. Catch your breath, turn back around and unleash unholy hell dance level 3 operations. Damn its gonna be good, with a full hipflask, careful medication and pre-arranged rendezvous points the platoon should make it out the otherside. It did confirm that my dear Youthful Indiscretion is not the vessel to be used as a landing vessel and a full ground assult is called for, she would be awash before we would manage to beach her.

Friday evening was spent drinking whisky out of a pilfered cup and saucer in Hootananay's, whereby a random date was arranged involving a bus and map. Is it a blind date if you were so blind drunk you cannot really remember bugger all from your first encounter? This Friday looks to be interesting especially as I know not her name, what she looks like and where the hell the bus and map come into play. I do remember polka dots, nice shoes and her ability to get served at the bar faster than anyone I have ever seen before, still not helpful identifying traits unless she wears exactly the same outfit whilst continually ordering drinks at the bar.

Saturday was spent toiling on my faithful vessel, electrocuting myself, drinking cups of tea, fighting the compulsion to jump in and then of course drinking again. An Inverness first, without specific plans to meet anyone and an unfathomable urge for more liquor I wandered into town to see who was out. A random encounter on the street led me to a well supplied house party, much mingling and exploration of this massive house. Rocket fuel punch powered us back into town for some nightclub action and another first, bumping into someone I knew but hadn't worked with...I KNOW its unheard of in Inverness. Deciding to take the host of the party up on his offer we piled out and back across the river for a night cap. However the hostess had other ideas and d got increasingly vocal and then ejected us out because it was HER party. I haven't been kicked out of a party since I was 16 and that was only cause the guys parents returned to find me pissing in her favourite plant pot. Oh happy days.

Sunday found more sleep deprived DIY action, tea, putting a drill through my hand and an encounter with a tin of wood preservative had colour issues. As a result the front of the boat now has seating that puts Peppers Ginger hair to shame, think Tommy Sherridan skinned and used to line my benches. That my friends is NOT what maple looks like. Bloody B&Q! All hopes of full spy satellite invisibility has been defeated by one tin of confused preservative. Keeps catching the side of my eye and I am like "What the hell is tha...Oh its only the bench". Love hate relationship with my abode continues.

Signing Off

DougalDutch