Friday, 19th May.
Return of the Chris

Dedicated followers of the adventures of the Idiot In London will recall my first Friday night in London. For those who don't remember or haven't been as thorough in their reading of old entries on planetian, why not refresh your memory by reading why bowling is so much fun.

So while we're waiting for our slower readers to catch up with what happened on that fateful evening back in March, let me share something mildly amusing with you.

Every morning Natalie (the woman who sits next to me) has to record a greeting for her voicemail. As she was recording the message this morning the UK Director of Sales and Marketing (note capital letters) emerged from his office, which is behind Natalie. "G'day, mate!" I said in a beefy Australian voice. We exchanged some sort of pleasantries (which usually involves Graham being rude to me and vice versa) and just then Nat turned around and said "You little shit!" I sat there catching flies. "My voicemail now goes like this: (aussie accent) G'Day mate! (english accent) Hello, you've come through to UK Sales and Marketing, if you would like to leave a message please do so after the tone, many thanks." Graham and I found it amusing, and Nat couldn't be bothered changing the message.

Tonight I went out with a bunch of chefs and hangers-on that all work at the same hotel as Mark. "Where are we meeting up?" I asked Bonnie. "At All Bar One" she replied. "Where's that?" "Next door to the place where we met up last time." Variety...life...spice.

I was running late through no fault of my own. The tube is a disgrace. My mobile burst into life as soon as I came out of the station. It was Charmari wondering where the hell I was. She put it a little bit more ladylike than that. Although not much more ladylike.

Chris was there, and was in fine form. Well lubricated, although not as plastered as the last time I met him. WARNING TO MY MUM: Make sure you're sitting down before you read the next paragraph.

Just kidding. Actually it's the next paragraph.

The next round of drinks was on Chris, actually I think every round of drinks was on Chris, and there were shots of tequila for everyone. Chris didn't know that I'm a non-drinker, but I figured that I'd be sociable and partake. A lick of salt, down the hatch, and bite on a slice of lemon. Temporary warmth down the gullet, and that was about it!

I should point out that my family has a resistance to anaesthetics. When I had my wisdom teeth out (the right pair, to be precise) I needed seven injections before I was numb. Apparently this is some sort of record, perhaps not a national record but definitely at the dental surgery where I was. So when the alcohol had no effect on me whatsoever I wasn't surprised. And neither was anyone else. Mark said "One won't affect you, but have five or so in a row and you'll be obliterated." I didn't try two in a row, let alone five. As if I'm going to pay for alcohol!

When Chris gets drunk, he gets a little, how shall we put it, "friendly". Charmari appeared to escape relatively unharmed. I was on the receiving end of a religion-discovering grope (work that one out) from Chris. I was more alert after that. (Be alert - Australia needs lerts.)

(sorry)

The evening ended with some skinny guy called Warren taking his shirt off. Ordinary. No-one was encouraging him, he just decided to take his shirt off. If only he hadn't.