A look-back at this past weekend. I’m incredibly hungover.
Friday
I woke up completely unable to speak, my throat felt as if it had caught on fire and swollen, whilst being stuffed and pummelled full of cotton wool. That was incredibly worrying as I had a gig that night in a wedding for my mate Charl, singing a few numbers for her aunty. So I went to the doctors for him to have a ganders at it (and then at my throat..bah-dum-tish) and he diagnosed me with laryngitus. Excellent. Seeings as I was already signed out of school, I rang my dad and he came to have a cup of tea in our local caff, Mary’s, above the antiques shop in Porthcawl. Whilst we were merrily drinking and chatting, there was quite a lot of noise, mainly emitted by an old woman who was talking to the table just a little bit down from us. She had a broad Derby accent and was telling/shouting at the couple on the table about the new tablets she was on and how they were doing wonders for her. Then she moved onto the expensive plaice served in Beales and how Sidoli’s is even more pricey but you get more chips. And so it went on. And on…And on.
After 5 more minutes we had to leave, partly because of her and partly because I had to get to school. My first lesson was music, in which my teacher failed to attend. So instead we did some singing and messing around on the piano, but the teacher (if you can even call her that) next door was doing assessments and there were year nine kids running amok everywhere, so I locked the door. Several minutes later she can tapping on the window, annoyed at us (well me) for locking the door on her. She came in, all 5ft of her, screaming her head off and I actually couldn’t stop laughing. She looked like an angry gremlin. I laughed ’till my coughing prevented me from breathing. So the day goes on as usual, until last lesson where I was given the task to go and get the nuns outfits for the gig that night (don’t ask). I was chlaustrophobic in the tiny room stacked to bursting with past school show costumes and it was stressful having to constantly rummage through outfits that were disgustingly old and still smelling of sweat. I rang Jodie to come and help me and she took ages because once again, she was talking. When she walked in on me, I was stood, sweating and swearing dressed up head to foot in a grey tent-sized tabbard and matching grey habit.
So after much fuss and furore, we finally get to the gig, where I then had to walk onto the stage, dressed as a nun with my friend Rachel and we began to sing “I Will Follow Him”. The rest of the girls stood up and ran on stage singing too and we stripped off our nun-like exteriors to reveal our glamorous dresses underneath. The party after was good with an absolutely crap DJ.
Jodie and I decided to go to Bridgend after, so we got into a taxi. Worst mistake ever.
The taxi guy was indian with very limited english. All he seemed to be able to say was “MONEY UPFRONT”. I couldn’t give him all of the £15 seeings as Jo and I were splitting the bill and she was on the phone, so I apologised and explained that I only had £8. He clearly didn’t understand me, because he just kept incessantly repeating “MONEY UPFRONT PLEASE!” with his palm outstretched. Jodie added fuel to the fire by shouting down the phone “Oh, can you hear Sarah shouting at the twat taxi guy?!”. It got so bad that I just shouted
“You know what?! Stop the car! We’re getting out, I’ll pay for up to this point, but I want the rest of my money back”.
Him – “It costs…*checks money in his palm* eight pounds to get this far.”
Me -”Uhh no it doesn’t, it barely costs four quid. Can I have my money back please? I said – Can I have my money back please so I can count it and give it back to you?”
He clearly thought he was going to try and get one over on us, and I don’t really mean to be arrogant but excuse me, he clearly didn’t know who he was in the car with. If I’m smart, Jodie is Stephen-Freaking-Hawking (but a porn star version…with massive boobs). Just because we were in short dresses, heels and slightly drunk, doesn’t mean I’m going to let the Taxi-Twat swindle me out of my £8. I have to work almost two hours for that.
Me – “Yeah, just stop right here. We’re getting out. Come on Jod, stop please. Now.”
So we got out. Alive. He didnt give me all of my money back, only £3 of it. And promptly drove off, abandoning us in Dan-Y-Graig. So now Jodie hits the phone, calling everyone who might be able to give us a lift for a fiver to Bridgend. I try to help her, but realised, only too late, that I left my phone in the taxi. Panicking like mad, I stole Jodie’s phone to ring where I work, to ask Jacob to rescue my poor, little phone from the nasty man’s car. Which, God bless his soul, he does. Whilst this was happening, I turned to Jodie shouting at her -
“THIS IS SHIT!! MY NIGHT IS SHIT!!” and promptly threw myself onto the road, flat out. Jodie took a picture and it’s now on facebook. Everyone reckons that I was drunk. It’s difficult to explain that I genuinely wasn’t.
So, what seemed like a decade later, Jacob arrived, beeped his horn at me to make me move off the road, and took us up to Bridgend for a fiver. At Bridgend, we hit all the clubs and it seemed that the evening had peaked too soon back in the wedding, as town turned out to be shit. We met three lovely ladies in the cantonese, and a very drunk man, who would not stop shouting “BILLY PIPER!” at me and pointing. He then made the worst decision any man could possibly make in a room full of ladies. He said, and my lady-readers, please dispense of anything that you could possibly throw because, oh man, it’s bad. Gents, please take note and learn from this man’s dreadful, dreadful mistake. Ladies and Gentlemen, he spat-
“Oh my God. How big is her bum?!”
I swear to you, the silence that proceeded was far, far heavier than a tonne of bricks, as we all simply stared at him. Incredulous. The ensuing scene was far too graphic to explain, but let me just say this, his ripped off penis became a pen which was then used to write “DICKHEAD” in blood along the walls.
After we left the battle-ground, we then had to find a way home and eventually, nobbling our knees off, Ben arrived and took us home to my house for another fiver.
The night turned out to be very exhausting and I fell asleep almost instantly as I crawled into bed that night, secure in the knowledge that I would not be able to speak again the next morning.
End of Part A; Friday.
S.E.M
