Alright geezer, hope them wallabes are treating you ok, the vicious little bastards. Sorry ive not emailed in so long but theres really been nothing going on whatsoever and half my memorys shot to shit through alcohol abuse!!anyhoo thought you might enjoy hearing about the events of one of our recent clunge hunts , entitled "business as usual in MCR del sol centre"it was a saturday night - I should have quit as soon as I missed the train the lads were on, as I think that was the proverbial 'sign'.anyway after gathering my spine together, I left the peasants on the suspensionless bus to go and meet the crew.

After sinking a few in sinclairs oyster bar we moved the clunge hunt onto LLoyds. Now i dont know why we dont go here more often as the place REEKED of oestrogen and was swarming with little tarts dressed up like they were auditioning for moulin rouge, or the fantasy bar for that matter... anyway it was here I decided to up the pace a bit with 4 bottles of fruit cider. Or as I call it "pear shit". (barstaff dont like that one). The pear shit kicked in and in a completely irresponsible move someone suggested moving to Waxy's. Here the Clunge was, lets say 'more accessible' as they seemed older , maybe nuttier, and about 90% looked as if they had a couple of kids near my age. 10 mins later, and one man down - Rugg later admitted to blowing chunks in the toilet and being thrown out , but I think mr lover lover had a sly text .. hmmm.

I got talking to a respectable / cruella deville looking Labrador - wearing piece of clunge. not too bad actually , looked 30 and seemed to have the right amount of eyes , ears, arms etc ..Result! The only problem was a serious flatulence issue. I mean , these bastards were like tear gas - these bastards kept recurring too. sheesh . .anyway it was mid conversation with the flatulent labrador that Ralph and Armband decided to state "we're off" - I thought " christ shes off too - or at least she SMELLS off"I made my excuses and made a teary departure, by which time i'd sinked a couple more pints and a dreaded sambuca. Armband and Ralph had made it as far as piccadilly by this point so i got 'pissed up-pissed off' (that feeling of rage after one too many) and decided it was a good idea to ahem 'pop into' Johnny Bocks on my way past. After all it was only half 12, i was toasted and I'd failed in my hunt for clunge.. so far.well i got in, theres a start, and WHAM my last and only memory of being in there was laughing hysterically at a stupid moron who had bought 4 pints of the ridiculously priced pisswater only to discover one more sip would make him ralf up his chicken chasseur. Believing his beloved mothers cooking was better off on the pavement outside he made a hasty exit leaving me to minesweep these pints..this is where it gets interesting ..

I woke up bleary eyed to a room which looked like a chinese brothel and soon realised I'd not done pissed up decorating. Looked round a bit more and , oh shit theres a bird looking at me. she waddles back towards the bed, im still blurry. dont know who the FUCK she was but got chatting. soon found out it was her place , and i'd decided upon myself to accompany her home.(i'll leave out the bit where she goes on to admit shes been in a loonatic asylum, got out recently and had a history of anorexia, but had CLEARLY gotten over it!) Anyway it was at this point in the conversation/confessions with her realised i was starkers, and she was fully clothed. Now, when this happens, anyone sane would nip themselves to stop the nightmare or RUN. But thinking i was in a lucid dream, or just being a cocky bastard, (or both) i decided to order the little sphere to "get her kit off"...

She made me a 'breakfast' of a bacon flavoured crisp sandwich (nice) and i decided to make my break for it. as we waited outside for the taxi, watching the gentle comings and goings of drug pushers to a flat nearby, i plucked up the courage to ask her age...46. forty fucking six. She then showed me a pic of her scally daughter who was my age. I asked the taxi driver where the hell i was as soon as i was in there .. after the initial "DRIVE..!" Monton wherever the fook that was. The 19 taxi fare got me home just in time for tea.i laughed when I next spoke to Ralph as apparently my last text of the night of doom was at half 5 am. A short , and sweet "CHRIST" think that sums it up!