Eulogy

My brain is calling me a cunt. Hagop dedicated to join an ill fated jaunt to the Crobar on the Tottenham Court Road. We wanted to a) get drunk and b) say hello to Strobe. We achieved both these goals with ease.

Stop!

Hagop is now mixing Drum N Bass. I don't think I've ever been this hurt by music when hungover since Gav played me that Apex Twin tune made with modem noise.

Continue!

As with all Crobar/Strobe night out combinations, we ended up talking to some absolute characters. I'll try and remember them in chronological order...
Strobe herself: Always a pleasure, never a chore. Was seen as God in the eyes of the Finns present because she could get by in Finnish and worked for most of Sophia's musical idols on Finland's metal scene.
The two Finnish girls Sophia and Julia: Sofia has a unique take on chatting people up - "Guys should just say 'Hey you fucking whore, give me some fucking pussy!' and stop all that 'Do you come here often?' shit." I pointed out that no sober man has the stones to try the success:failure ratio of that phrase!
Alex the Harmonica player: He had three harmonica in D, C and A.
Three random guys hitting on Julia: They were rodheads. The chief rodhead was talking to me in the toilet and as he left he turned his head around to carry on facing me as he was talking about... Something shit. His stream of piss followed the line of his eyes. I just stared in disbelief as this guy pissed from the toilet, to the floor, to the wall, to the floor and back to the toilet again. The guy didn't even notice.
Russel the barman/bicycle courier: He gave us savage measures of Jack.
Some Army officer: Where'd he come from?
I want Hagop to stop mixing and offer me some sweet tea. Outlook: grim.