Friday, November 29, 2002

It's another gloomy day in singapore. It's not helped by the fact that the air con in here is freezing, and the glass on the windows in tinted. Feels just like England actually! Went out last night with the intention of going clubbing, but we soon realisd that in Singapore thursday is not a clubbing friendly day. It always seems so strange to me that Singapore has Universities, and get doesn't really have many "student" nights. Well not like back home anyway! In Leeds every night of the week was a massive piss up. There was always some huge student night on with cheap drinks and lots of pissed students trying to impress each other by singing along to "come on eileen" in the hope of getting a clumsy snog and a bit of a grope. I remember the sticky floors which would coat your shoes and trousers with black grime so that it looked like you had been working on a farm. I remember the warm pissy beer served in plastic cups which would squash and split, spilling your beer over the already sodden grimy floor. I remember the triple vodkas for a quid seventy, which were also warm and tasted like varnish remover. I remember the myriad of sophisticated pulling techniques used on the dancefloor, like looking at someone and then grabbing them and attatching your face to theirs. I remember the kebab van parked outside which would serve undercooked meat of unknown origin to clumsy fingered students with faces covered in ketchup. And the lack of beef in the burgers was always more than made up for by the beef in the crowd. Once the burgers were finished with, then the ritual fighting would begin. "Dijoo look at my gurfren?!", the chant would begin, and soon everyone would join in the ceremony of banging heads against heads and fists against noses, like morris dancers on crack. After the fun and games were over, and a few people had been knocked to the floor and kicked repeatedly in the head, the cab stealing would start, and after some unsuccesful attempts to guess the name of the genuine customer... "Is this cab for dave? I mean Darren? Dennis? Dwain? Jack? Jill? Sorry, I meant Bob. Bert?....." someone would suggest the clever idea of walking home, as after all, it's not THAT far, and we are all very energetic at the moment, and we do only live in the THIRD most dangerous neigbourhood in leeds.....

On the walk home there would inaviably be at least 100 kebab takeaways, and no one is strong enough to resist that much temptation. Afterwards, the chilli sauce mixing with the ketchup running down the faces and shirts of stavros' latest customers, the party would continue on to the danger zone: the park. One of britain's biggest contradictions, the park is, by day, a place of fun and joy. games of football, frisbee, a crate of stella and a few crafy reefers, sunshine, ice cream, and blankets spread on the grass. By night however, it leans more towards glue sniffing, anal rape, severe beatings, muggings, and gang fights. Even walking alongside the park is dangerous, as people have been known to run out of the darkness and grab you off the pavement and drag you in. One thing that has always struck me as odd, is that there are absoultely NO lights in the park. Surely half this nastiness could be avoided if people weren't able to hide in the darkness.

anyway, I digress. So, newly revitalised after a super hot kebab with extra chilli sauce, it is decided that the best course of action would be to go straight through the park, as it will cut 10 minutes off the journey, and besides, drinking 10 pints of beer has given everyone special Kung Foo powers, so any trouble will be quickly dealt with. Having escaped the park with only one minor altercation with a group of psycopathic 13 year olds, home is eventually reached, and pizza is ordered. And soon everyone is sleeping peacefully, their faces resting on a pillow of pizza and fag butts, blissfully unconscious.... for now.

coming soon! :"The Morning After".

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