This Site is Moving

After a trial run of lordoflash.wordpress.com, the editor himself has decided there’s enough encouragement and content for the domain to move. Therefore, most of the content on this blog will be migrating to The Lord of Lash and Quite a Lot Else. If you like what you see here, especially the posts about throwing kebabs at girls, or kinds shitting in swimming pools, then you should turn your attention to the new blog.

From the Ritz to the Rubble

Whilst it was good to see everyone for the final time, I didn’t really have much of a memorable night on my final works do. We were out in Ashford, got lashed, went to club – pretty simple. I went to Inferno’s in Clapham the other week and thought it was utter shit, and Liquid nightclub in Ashford rings a similar vibe. I can no longer stand places that play r n b music and are filled with men wearing shoes and shirt – it’s bog standard same old bollocks, and I can’t vouch for it any longer. I pretty much walked around the club looking for people because it was pretty big, and not very much happened.

What happened afterwards, however, is probably up there with the funniest things I have ever witnessed or been a part of. Ollie, JT, and I left the club about 2, pretty well smashed up, so we went to the kebab shop. Afterwards I sat on a bench near to Ashford high street chowing down, when JT appeared to be in some kind of argument with a group of about four girls. It later transpired that it had all stemmed from Ollie throwing a chip at them, then JT throwing a bit of doner meat at them; after that things got a little ugly. JT hadn’t had much of his kebab but he just decided to throw all of it into one of the girl’s faces. Understandably, they weren’t best pleased. I sat there wetting myself laughing as he got chased up and down the street.

Then the most hideous of the four (who I think was the victim of the kebab throwing) approached Ollie and I with tears pouring down her face; judging from the size of her I don’t think she could put up with running after JT for too long. I couldn’t stop laughing, and she noticed. She came up real close and just started screaming hysterically, in a reasonably chav-esque accent, ‘Your mate’s a fucking twat!”

I just took a look at her and replied, ‘Nah – you’re a fucking twat. Just get lost.’ She went absolutely mental, and just started repeatedly clobbering me around the face. I was surprised that it didn’t really hurt, and I just told her to fuck off. Just behind her, one of her mates was laughing her head off. For some reason this girl stopped hitting me after a while and let me get on with eating my kebab, and for another reason that I can’t remember Ollie and I chose to walk back down the high street. Down at the bottom JT was sidestepping two girls who were still pursuing him in front of a group of lads who were all laughing. They just couldn’t catch him – he’d run about two metres, do a duck and dive, then side step then again – it looked completely ridiculous, like a playground game. At one point, however, he did get caught and held, but I can’t remember how he got away.

Ollie and I laughed, chose not to help him out, and carried on walking down the street to the bottom. Here the fat bird who’d punched me in the face came down to the bottom with another girl. We were just talking to them trying to reason with them, saying that it was not our fault that JT had thrown a kebab at them, but it was to no avail – they were just too dense. Then the fat bird knocked Ollie’s chips out of his hand. He looked pretty pissed off with this but I hatched a little plan. I said, ‘Come on, we’re going, just leave it,’ and began walking down the road. After about five metres I got what was left of my kebab (which was still quite a lot) and hurled it at the fat bird. Despite my utter intoxication the throw was excellent. The kebab perfectly arched in the air and first showered the fat girl with onions and chicken meat, before the greasy pitta hit her smack on the face.

It was possibly the most satisfying thing I’ve ever done – I just couldn’t stop laughing at the look on her face as she wiped away the garlic sauce, but I knew I was now deep in the shit, so I started legging it. The fat girl was in not so hot pursuit, chasing after me shouting, ‘I’ll get you you cunt!’ completely hysterically. I jogged on thinking she would never catch me, and just said, ‘You won’t you fat bitch,’ and, ‘I’m too fast for you fatty.’ I must have run about two hundred metres before she gave up – she had absolutely no chance because she was physically a mess (as well as being repulsive to look at). Then she screamed, ‘You won’t be able to come out in Ashford again – my family are well big round here and they’ll knock you out!’ Big deal, I thought, I’m moving to London – plus this was the first time I’d been out in Ashford anyway. Then she started running again, I walked across the road and she chased me, and a car nearly hit her. I told her to fuck off again and just walked off, and she gave up. I met back up with Ollie on the other side of the road and we concluded that we needed to find JT, so we went back up towards the high street. He was just walking down the road with a cheesy grin on his face, completely unscathed. His hot stepping dodge moves had paid off. I noticed my pitta was on the floor, and I was so drunk that I didn’t think it would be unreasonable to eat it, so I did.

I suppose my behaviour was rather ridiculous, but it makes me laugh how stupid the situations can get on a night on the lash. Imagine doing that on a Sunday! That aside, I can’t vouch for repulsive women hitting me for laughing at something. She did pretty well though – two kebabs in the face in ten minutes.

If you want to check out some more lash stories, then take a look at my drinking holiday on Kavos on the Lash.

Could Princess Di Get Me a Proper Job? (Now Moved)

This post has been edited and moved. It is now at the new Lord of Lash Blog…. specifically, Could Princess Di Get me a proper job. It’s a post about a ridiculous task I had to do at a crappy job interview, featuring none other than Freddy Mercury, John Lennon, Victoria Beckham, Ricky Gervais, Princess Diana (WTF?) and, strangely, F. Scott Fitzgerald. Check it out.

The Barren Patch (Employment Version)

There was a time not so long ago, not very long ago at all, when I went through what can only be described as a ‘barren patch.’ I’m not quite sure what was wrong with me really. It was the summer after Uni; endless days of nothing in particular, staring at a computer at a desk in the front room. Some days I’d fill out some more pointless application forms, always holding the belief that I could easily get that job, so I waited for a phone call that never came, still sat in front of that computer. Sometimes I’d watch a bit of Rick Stein on the TV, building up a culinary knowledge that was seldom exercised. Everything was a bit pointless really, nothing happened; job applications seemed futile. The only solace I got were ridiculous lie ins, a fortnightly sum of £91 in my bank account for doing nothing, and going out.

Despite the everyday monotony of sitting in front of daytime TV, and waiting for the phone to ring, I looked forward to things with candid optimism, with the belief that now was the time to be something, since University days were over. Technically I also got paid around £6 for playing Civilization IV all day, which was good. Nice to think my taxes now go to similarly lazy people like me then. But it wasn’t like I wasn’t searching for a job – I did way more than I had to so I could claim my benefits. The basic rules of that are you have to search for a job in three different ways in a week. But looking in the job section of the paper could count – no wonder some people spend a long time on the dole! If that counted then I had a tally of around 30 ways to search for a job. I seldom had interviews – two in three months, but I sent away a hell of a lot of application forms. In one day I phoned three job agencies, sent away four applications, and went to an interview at the local pub, in the end nothing happened. I guess you could say that’s a barren patch.

It lasted for months on end. I guess that’s why I got my (good) degree…

I haven’t read this book, but I probably should have during this time. I’m not sure it’s still in print, but you can check out the author, Patrick Thorne at your leisure.

This Post Needed to be Removed But the PR Remains

I Love wordpress… I love the way that when you take down a post the PR will remain there, so long as you have the tags, cos then you can pass the PR onto a new site. It gives you a whole new take on life, because PR is such a pain in the fricking ass to get hold of! Anyhow, you can check out the new post, all about the crap job I had lifeguarding after a mushroom filled festival, then a kid went and shat in the pool. Humour indeed.  Take a look at The Kid That Shat in the Pool.