Return of THE FEAR!

[open face surgery]

No way.  We're you back in the same venue?? Memorable might not exactly be the word describe that night under the circumstances but the scar remains!

I remember getting completely paranoid the following morning.  We had crashed in the venue and just drank on once we woke up and they had opened a side door into an alleyway.  In my alcohol induced paranoia I was convinced we were going to be abducted through that door and dissapeared. Dunno if I ever mentioned it or just kept it to myself but I was freaked out. It didn't help that my ankle was swollen twice it's size and I couldn't stand up 

Haha. Different city but we obviously came with a health warning. Stacking guitars on your wheelchair and facing you into the wall in the airport is my only funny memory of that trip.

I think you may have mentioned that alright. So grim. I was supposed to start a new job on the Monday. Feel queasy thinking about it.

[Eoin McLove]

Frightening carry on. Heebie jeebies stuff.

[StoutAndAle]

I was on the phone to a few buddies of mine the other night. Seeing as we can't get together at the minute we're having cans, a chat and listening to records using the JQBX (Jukebox) app.

Bit of a laugh. Until some prick when, it's his turn, decides to show how edgy/cool/music literate he is and puts on some 23 minute free-jazz track made by musicians from Capo Verde who have never seen the instruments they're playing before instead of just putting on "Black Dog" or whatever.

The conversation turns to getting older and having more sense than we used to (or not as the case may be). One of the lads says "I'd love to be 21 again", someone else disagrees and then one of the lads says "Christ Stouty! Do you remember your 21st birthday party?"

"I didn't have a 21st birthday party" said I

"No, but we all went to Freds and The Works after starting in your flat, remember?"

Shit. I do now.

Just finished college, nice flat in town on my own, good job with proper money, week off work. Happy days. A few days before my 21st, I went to Freds with this girl that I was sort of seeing. Things were great.

"I've been thinking about us" she says.

"Right." I says

"I'm seeing someone else" she says.

"Em... OK."

"I'm going to The Crowbar to meet him now"

"I don't really want to go to The Crowb..."

"I wasn't inviting you"

"Yeah... well"

"Bye"

So now I'm stuck in Freds with a heavy heart, a pint bottle of Bulmers and a pint of Bulmers that she's after putting raspberry cordial into (a Red Witch, lads - ask for it by name).

A few of my buddies filter in and decide to get me locked. And I end up getting steamed. So steamed that at closing time I'm wondering why the tables are all so high before realising that I'm sitting on the floor.

Fade out. Fade in. Still on the floor but now singing "Birth Ritual" by Soundgarden at full volume, trying to drown out Chris Cornell. One of the lads from behind the bar is getting fed up. Fade out. Fade in. The barman is now standing above me asking me to leave. Fade out. Fade in. The barman has his hands under my armpits and is lifting me up.

"Out you go".

"Riiiiiiiiiiituuuuuuuuuuuual!"

"The fuck are you on about?"

"Shinging alongsh to sssshe shhhong!"

"There hasn't been music on for 20 minutes, you fucking clown".

Fade out..........

End of part one.

[Juggz]

 

[Paul keohane]

I was on the phone to a few buddies of mine the other night. Seeing as we can't get together at the minute we're having cans, a chat and listening to records using the JQBX (Jukebox) app.

Bit of a laugh. Until some prick when, it's his turn, decides to show how edgy/cool/music literate he is and puts on some 23 minute free-jazz track made by musicians from Capo Verde who have never seen the instruments they're playing before instead of just putting on "Black Dog" or whatever.

The conversation turns to getting older and having more sense than we used to (or not as the case may be). One of the lads says "I'd love to be 21 again", someone else disagrees and then one of the lads says "Christ Stouty! Do you remember your 21st birthday party?"

"I didn't have a 21st birthday party" said I

"No, but we all went to Freds and The Works after starting in your flat, remember?"

Shit. I do now.

Just finished college, nice flat in town on my own, good job with proper money, week off work. Happy days. A few days before my 21st, I went to Freds with this girl that I was sort of seeing. Things were great.

"I've been thinking about us" she says.

"Right." I says

"I'm seeing someone else" she says.

"Em... OK."

"I'm going to The Crowbar to meet him now"

"I don't really want to go to The Crowb..."

"I wasn't inviting you"

"Yeah... well"

"Bye"

So now I'm stuck in Freds with a heavy heart, a pint bottle of Bulmers and a pint of Bulmers that she's after putting raspberry cordial into (a Red Witch, lads - ask for it by name).

A few of my buddies filter in and decide to get me locked. And I end up getting steamed. So steamed that at closing time I'm wondering why the tables are all so high before realising that I'm sitting on the floor.

Fade out. Fade in. Still on the floor but now singing "Birth Ritual" by Soundgarden at full volume, trying to drown out Chris Cornell. One of the lads from behind the bar is getting fed up. Fade out. Fade in. The barman is now standing above me asking me to leave. Fade out. Fade in. The barman has his hands under my armpits and is lifting me up.

"Out you go".

"Riiiiiiiiiiituuuuuuuuuuuual!"

"The fuck are you on about?"

"Shinging alongsh to sssshe shhhong!"

"There hasn't been music on for 20 minutes, you fucking clown".

Fade out..........

End of part one.

Haha

The Works,Crowbar,blasts from the past there!

[Snare]

Ah can't wait for Part 2, we need a netflix binge of Stout Tales!

[StoutAndAle]

Part Two.

Fade in...

(Begin Capt. Willard-like internal monologue)

I'm fucking roasting. I can feel the sweat on me like a waxy film. Is it still night? No. I have my eyes closed. Should I open them? If I don't open them maybe I'll get away with this. No... no I must open them. I'm thirsty. What time is it? Fuck it, open your eyes. That's it, now you can see. Where the fuck am I? What are all these weird curtains and stuff? Feel around... Yup. I'm bollocks naked. Did I score? How did I get here? Where is here? It mightn't be sweat. Maybe you're covered in blood. Maybe you murdered someone in a passionate jealous rage. Maybe it's your blood. Maybe if you move the curtains you can see where you are. Good idea.

So that's what I do. I move the coloured drapes and they all fall with a crash. Turns out I'd fallen asleep with my head under the shitty clothes horse that I used for drying my jocks.

Ugh. I feel rotten. But not pukey. I look around the bedroom, there's nobody else there, just me – starkers. My bed is still perfectly neat from the way I left it before I went out last night. I haven't broken anything in the room. I try getting up off the floor but it feels like my ass-cheeks are glued to the timber flooring. Eventually I roll to one side and there's a Velcro like "ffffiiiiiitch" as my hole leaves its resting place. The sweat is pumping out of me and I'm none too steady on my feet.

"Huuuuurgh." I need to shower and brush my teeth. My bedroom has a small shower and jacks so I don't have far to go, couldn't face walking down the hall to the main toilet. The place is intact. I look at myself in the mirror. I look like a 90 year old (fat) corpse. "Yeh fuckin' eejit" I say to my reflection. End up sitting on the jacks for about 20 minutes trying to focus on Kerrang and wondering if I could get a horn to any of the girls in Kittie. I decide against it and try to focus on them talking about their record "Spit". Definitely a passion killer. Turn the page and there's an article on The Donnas. Again the debate begins but I ultimately decide that I might have a heart attack and, if I'm found with my lad in one hand and a dishevelled copy of Kerrang in the other, there'll be eternal questions over which band I was looking at. Was it Kittie? Was it Iron Maiden? Was it Powerman5000? 

The sweat is still pounding out of me and I nearly slide off the jacks when I'm standing up. Brush teeth. Shower while trying to put my journey home back together. Freds isn't far from my flat so I couldn't have done too much damage. The shower starts to bring me around, I'll have coffee and a cigarette then enjoy the rest of my time off. Towelling off I come back into the bedroom and remember the clothes horse. This is one of those cheap ones that was a bit like a new born foal. One sock too many and the whole thing would collapse. I get it back upright, stick on a pair of boxers, grab the towel to dry my face/beard and head into the hall.

Next thing I know I am flying down the hall at speed. On the way out of my room, I put my foot into something and took off along the wooden boards. I land on my hole with a clatter at the end of the hall. I look down to see what I've tripped on – it's a wok. A fucking wok! And not just any wok but a big, burnt black, dirty greasy wok. You could drown a medium-size zebra in this thing. My foot is covered in wok gunk and it's all over the floor. I spend the next hour, after re-showering, cleaning grease and burnt black shit off my floor, skirting boards and walls. Have to throw out the mop head. Better get dressed, head to the wardrobe...

Hang on. Where are my clothes from last night? THE FEAR is here.

End of part two.

[Carnage]

Brilliant! 

[Kurt Cocaine]

Jesús H Christos 

[Snare]

How many parts are in this excellent adventure?? You shouldbe writing novels lad 👍

[StoutAndAle]

How many parts are in this excellent adventure?? You shouldbe writing novels lad 👍

I think 4 parts. I don't want to be boring people or making my drunken stupidity a chore to read by having them too long.

[Paul keohane]

Haha hurry up!

[Thorn]

This'll put Netflix out of business

[Slaughterday]

StoutAndAle giving Ragnarok a run for his money these days.

[Emphyrio]

Ragnarok had some fuckin great ones, ya.