Wednesday, 9 September 2015
Tuesday, 8 September 2015
Tuesday, 25 August 2015
Tuesday, 9 June 2015
The Time That We Went Clubbing In Central London
It's my birthday, I'm at uni, T-Pain has just dropped the song Low and Usher was steaming up the charts with Love In This Club. The days been perfect. I linked my girl earlier in the day, got my Jeremiah on and now the mandem are on their way round. Once they arrive everyone's on a hype, I remain the champion of Pro Evo (who even remembers Pro Evo, that got dropped like a bad habbit, shout out to London FC and Man Red ). I dead a few man at Street Fighter and we pre-drink like Jesus was doing the catering (He wasn't, I paid for it) after all only suckkas buy drinks in the club right...#studentlife.
I had decided that I was gonna do it big this year, so I was steering well away from the SU Bar. I had been putting some hard graft into my retail job and had the shekels to prove it. My student card would know no bounds tonight (well, it definitely would), I made sure I was going to shine, nothing could stop us. It's was always going to be a Leicester Square ting.
Just before we set off, there are 6 of us by the way, all lads of the chocolate or curry persuasion, we all know the drill but a reminder is always welcomed. So we run through the obligatory checklist before slamming my front door shut in a pursuit to paint the proverbial town red.
"Everyman got shoes yeah" check, "oi, you man got your Id's" check, "you got a shirt on, with a collar and dat" check. "Ok, everyman got shoes..." I notice my front door slam shut as one person hastily runs back to his place to change his footwear, he was visibly frustrated with himself, after all he knew the procedure inside out, we've been doing it for years.
He arrives after a short absence, out of breath, brandishing what looks like shoes we had previously seen before. "I swear you used to wear those in school" one claims.
"And church!" another interrupts.
"Yeah, hard times innit" he replies. We all laugh at his efforts and then he quickly retorts, "Well your girlfriend likes them". We burst out laughing and stagger intoxicated out of the door.
"We need to get there before 10, you know what these places are like" I assert. We frantically look my the watch...another voice panics, "did you put us on the guestlist...ahh man the guestlist!". Anyone would think we were illegals going through immigration.
We arrive in Leicester square in high spirits, we can see the night club in the near distance and gather around to finalise our plan, we are close enough to see the bright lights of the club but far enough so that we are out of the bouncers view. The club stands like an oasis in a desert as drones of people gravitate towards it.
I tighten my belt and take control. Getting into a nightclub in Central London is hard enough as it is, never mind when you're on the darker side of the colour spectrum. So we treat it is like a military operation. "Right!" I exclaim authoritatively. Everyone listens, ears perched, awaiting their orders, "every one act sober, we are going to go in two groups of three, no... wait three groups of two, everyone nods approvingly. "Make sure they (the bouncers) don't see you drinking, make sure they don't see us together, make sure you stand next to girls...make sure..." the list goes on. After ticking off our endless check list we still don't expect to get in but feign confidence so that we don't ruin the moral of our fellow soldiers.
We cue up, attempting to be inconspicuous, hearts racing as the bouncer walks up and down the queue inspecting us like cattle, he walks up once, then back on himself, then disappears into the night. We are ecstatic, we have survived the first examination.
30 minutes later me and my partner are at the front of the queue, I glance back down the queue, hi-fiving the rest of the squadron with only the smile on my face, ensuring I keep my composure. They get the message and look on filled with hope. The plan to strategically space ourselves out in the queue and communicate primarily through BBM, seemed to had worked.
Until....."Not tonight lads" the bouncer chuffed as he aggressively lifts the up-stand barricade to lead us back onto the cold hard concrete.
"Huh, why" I shout in disbelief.
"You haven't got any girls", isn't that the point, I say to myself, we're here to meet girls, who brings sandwiches to a buffet after all. "gahh I knew it!" one of my friends huffs as he sees us get turned away. He leaves the queue and the other 2 company's relinquish their spot in the queue to joins us, all for one and one for all after all.
We stare at each other dejected, looking for a reason for our rejection "Of course we didn't get in" one complained, "it's cos you've got a beard like bin laden!"
"huh! what about you?" one replies, "You're wearing a woolly hat and one Nike golf glove, like you're 16 and on your way to the youth centre"
"Nah, he saw his shoes and wanted to save you from asking for forgiveness in the morning" Another chuckles.
"Ha, nope, it's because you're so black, you look like an unlocked game character"
Once again we all burst out laughing and continue walking away attempting to regain our confidence by taking our frustrations out on the nightclub, whilst simultaneously consoling each other,"it looks dead in there anyway" we mutter to ourselves (it didn't). "Anyway who wants to pay £20 to get into a club, that's my weekly shopping!"
As we walk away, we glance back over our shoulder one last time and notice three Essex boys in Polo's and comb overs walk straight past our once hostile bouncer and directly into the establishment. We shake our heads in disbelief, after seeing the injustice I go back to the bouncers to confront them, but my friends hold me back and persuade me it's not worth it.
We spent the next 2 hours wandering aimlessly around London receiving rejection upon rejection. we were now, sober, cold, miserable, hungry and had missed the last train home. If we didn't have a friend who did not take no for an answer we would have went home frustrated, but due to this guys incessant hope and positivity we tried to get into a fourth club. I repeat fourth! Who the hell does that. We ultimately get in and had the time of our life, long forgetting our previous misfortune.
I would have forgotten this experience if it wasn't for the article below. It made me realise that so many us take this as a norm but it really shouldn't be. To be refused entry because of race or gender is illegal. I'm happy that this dark norm has finally had light shone upon it and as a result I will never be refused entry again. Check out the link below for more info on your rights and leave your comments below.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-32883122
I had decided that I was gonna do it big this year, so I was steering well away from the SU Bar. I had been putting some hard graft into my retail job and had the shekels to prove it. My student card would know no bounds tonight (well, it definitely would), I made sure I was going to shine, nothing could stop us. It's was always going to be a Leicester Square ting.
Just before we set off, there are 6 of us by the way, all lads of the chocolate or curry persuasion, we all know the drill but a reminder is always welcomed. So we run through the obligatory checklist before slamming my front door shut in a pursuit to paint the proverbial town red.
"Everyman got shoes yeah" check, "oi, you man got your Id's" check, "you got a shirt on, with a collar and dat" check. "Ok, everyman got shoes..." I notice my front door slam shut as one person hastily runs back to his place to change his footwear, he was visibly frustrated with himself, after all he knew the procedure inside out, we've been doing it for years.
 |
| If you didn't own a pair of these between 11 - 16 years old, you had no status in life |
"And church!" another interrupts.
"Yeah, hard times innit" he replies. We all laugh at his efforts and then he quickly retorts, "Well your girlfriend likes them". We burst out laughing and stagger intoxicated out of the door.
"We need to get there before 10, you know what these places are like" I assert. We frantically look my the watch...another voice panics, "did you put us on the guestlist...ahh man the guestlist!". Anyone would think we were illegals going through immigration.
 |
I tighten my belt and take control. Getting into a nightclub in Central London is hard enough as it is, never mind when you're on the darker side of the colour spectrum. So we treat it is like a military operation. "Right!" I exclaim authoritatively. Everyone listens, ears perched, awaiting their orders, "every one act sober, we are going to go in two groups of three, no... wait three groups of two, everyone nods approvingly. "Make sure they (the bouncers) don't see you drinking, make sure they don't see us together, make sure you stand next to girls...make sure..." the list goes on. After ticking off our endless check list we still don't expect to get in but feign confidence so that we don't ruin the moral of our fellow soldiers.
 |
| "Follow the plan or else" |
30 minutes later me and my partner are at the front of the queue, I glance back down the queue, hi-fiving the rest of the squadron with only the smile on my face, ensuring I keep my composure. They get the message and look on filled with hope. The plan to strategically space ourselves out in the queue and communicate primarily through BBM, seemed to had worked.
Until....."Not tonight lads" the bouncer chuffed as he aggressively lifts the up-stand barricade to lead us back onto the cold hard concrete.
"Huh, why" I shout in disbelief.
"You haven't got any girls", isn't that the point, I say to myself, we're here to meet girls, who brings sandwiches to a buffet after all. "gahh I knew it!" one of my friends huffs as he sees us get turned away. He leaves the queue and the other 2 company's relinquish their spot in the queue to joins us, all for one and one for all after all.
We stare at each other dejected, looking for a reason for our rejection "Of course we didn't get in" one complained, "it's cos you've got a beard like bin laden!"
"huh! what about you?" one replies, "You're wearing a woolly hat and one Nike golf glove, like you're 16 and on your way to the youth centre"
"Nah, he saw his shoes and wanted to save you from asking for forgiveness in the morning" Another chuckles.
"Ha, nope, it's because you're so black, you look like an unlocked game character"
Once again we all burst out laughing and continue walking away attempting to regain our confidence by taking our frustrations out on the nightclub, whilst simultaneously consoling each other,"it looks dead in there anyway" we mutter to ourselves (it didn't). "Anyway who wants to pay £20 to get into a club, that's my weekly shopping!"
 |
| He knows |
We spent the next 2 hours wandering aimlessly around London receiving rejection upon rejection. we were now, sober, cold, miserable, hungry and had missed the last train home. If we didn't have a friend who did not take no for an answer we would have went home frustrated, but due to this guys incessant hope and positivity we tried to get into a fourth club. I repeat fourth! Who the hell does that. We ultimately get in and had the time of our life, long forgetting our previous misfortune.
I would have forgotten this experience if it wasn't for the article below. It made me realise that so many us take this as a norm but it really shouldn't be. To be refused entry because of race or gender is illegal. I'm happy that this dark norm has finally had light shone upon it and as a result I will never be refused entry again. Check out the link below for more info on your rights and leave your comments below.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-32883122
Tuesday, 24 February 2015
40 Long Ass Days Of Lent
What demonstrates a persons mental strength more than giving up something that they love or something they figuratively can't live without?
I'm not a religious person but can see that there is something nobel in the act of fasting or witholding something from yourself which plays a big part in your lives, so after ruining my friends feeble attempt at giving up alcohol, which lasted a laughable 17 hours and 38 minutes or a measly 8 minutes in my company. I thought I'd look into the idea.
In their defence, no-one can say no to a caipirinha, it's the drink of champions, a drink which demands respect and slaps you with its minty freshness once you have succumbed to it's limey zingyness.
Anyway after laughing at their futile attempt until I got bored of my own jokes, (which took an unusually long time) I saw the positives in what they had attempted to achieve and wondered to myself, what is my vice? What plays such a big part in my life that I don't even realise that it's there? What couldn't I live without? I once again asked my trusted network of friends to find out what it was? I had a range of suggestions thrown at me such as cigarettes, which would be easy as I smoke on two occasions a month at most. Alcohol, which I would do but Mr Capirinha wouldn't be best pleased but then came the real hit. Immedatley upon suggesting it they retracted their statement and said, "actually, no you can't do that". To which outrage crossed my face, (if they could have seen the piercing stare I gave my Samsung S4 When I scrolled through whatsapp to read their message, they would have turned on their heels ran a mile.
By now you can probably realise the easiest way to get me to do something is to tell me that I can't, I'm like a dog with a bone when someone challenges me. So it was settled, I would give up sweets. Sweets are literally my life blood, I am the connoisseur of all things sugary and feel no shame when walking into a newsagents, picking up The Economist, a Frodo, a Twangers, a pack of Jelly Bellys, putting down the exact change and shouting "thanks boss" as I exit.
They knew this would be an uphill task, but did attempt to console by informing me that they knew of an Irish person that succeeded in giving up alcohol. Really!? Is that possible, now did they know them personally or was it like a legend or folk tale like the lockness monster? I've never been to Ireland but know a few Irish people and their love for alcohol is legendary. I once bore witness to a woman go past the point of no return, return back to a sober state and then order shots of tequila all within 30 minutes, I mean...really!? I repeat...she went PAST the point of no return. I've also been drank under the table by a 5 foot 4 Irish man, my only recorded drinking competition defeat that I would honestly hold my hands up to. Winston Churchill would be proud of any Irish mans alcohol consumption, In fact I can see him smiling down on dublin as we speak (on a side note why is Winston such a stereotypical Jamaican name? something to do with him perhaps).
Replace the woman in this music video with a pack of Haribo Tangfastics and this will be me in two days. Wish me luck.
In their defence, no-one can say no to a caipirinha, it's the drink of champions, a drink which demands respect and slaps you with its minty freshness once you have succumbed to it's limey zingyness.
Anyway after laughing at their futile attempt until I got bored of my own jokes, (which took an unusually long time) I saw the positives in what they had attempted to achieve and wondered to myself, what is my vice? What plays such a big part in my life that I don't even realise that it's there? What couldn't I live without? I once again asked my trusted network of friends to find out what it was? I had a range of suggestions thrown at me such as cigarettes, which would be easy as I smoke on two occasions a month at most. Alcohol, which I would do but Mr Capirinha wouldn't be best pleased but then came the real hit. Immedatley upon suggesting it they retracted their statement and said, "actually, no you can't do that". To which outrage crossed my face, (if they could have seen the piercing stare I gave my Samsung S4 When I scrolled through whatsapp to read their message, they would have turned on their heels ran a mile.
By now you can probably realise the easiest way to get me to do something is to tell me that I can't, I'm like a dog with a bone when someone challenges me. So it was settled, I would give up sweets. Sweets are literally my life blood, I am the connoisseur of all things sugary and feel no shame when walking into a newsagents, picking up The Economist, a Frodo, a Twangers, a pack of Jelly Bellys, putting down the exact change and shouting "thanks boss" as I exit.
 |
| These are addictive and offer a contrasting sweet and sour zing, with the added bonus of turning your tongue blue Harvey's sweet-tooth rating - 7/10. |
They knew this would be an uphill task, but did attempt to console by informing me that they knew of an Irish person that succeeded in giving up alcohol. Really!? Is that possible, now did they know them personally or was it like a legend or folk tale like the lockness monster? I've never been to Ireland but know a few Irish people and their love for alcohol is legendary. I once bore witness to a woman go past the point of no return, return back to a sober state and then order shots of tequila all within 30 minutes, I mean...really!? I repeat...she went PAST the point of no return. I've also been drank under the table by a 5 foot 4 Irish man, my only recorded drinking competition defeat that I would honestly hold my hands up to. Winston Churchill would be proud of any Irish mans alcohol consumption, In fact I can see him smiling down on dublin as we speak (on a side note why is Winston such a stereotypical Jamaican name? something to do with him perhaps).
I love a challenge but could this be one step too far. There is no prize at steak this time, it's simply Me vs "Addiction". Who wins? I decide.
Replace the woman in this music video with a pack of Haribo Tangfastics and this will be me in two days. Wish me luck.
Sunday, 15 February 2015
If Valentines Day Wasn't Bad Enough
What's worse than February 14th for single ladies... Monday 16th. If you're lucky, so far you have been able to avoid social media, turned a blind eye to all in-store flower promotions and even managed to side step the hype of the 50 Shades of Grey film (which I have been told is terrible, although that person was a bitter single lady).
I have out lined this day as being even more devastating than the 14th for 2 reasons:
Women enjoy talking about themselves, fact, but there is nothing women love sharing more than a story that involves their partner showing their appreciation for them. Better prepare your interested story listening face because the realisation that you are alone will come thick and fast.
Now guys that have a good woman and even those with bad women know they cannot get away with doing nothing for their partner on the day of love (it's just not worth the arguments). So whether they love their woman or hate her with a passion, you can guarantee he did something. Whether it was taking her to Paris and admiring the Eiffel Tower or picking up a bunch of wilted flowers after work from the petrol station, he made sure he ticked that box.
One thing that women are the brilliant at, other than arguing, complaining, taking things out of context and only seeing things from their perspective is exaggeration, and with the new art form of Instagram filters, exageration has became an effortless exercise, that once bouquet of wilted flowers can be transformed within seconds to a never ending bed of roses (so don't take their pictures literally).
It seems this was a bumper year for the diamond industry because everyone got engaged! Everyone except you! Facebook, Instagram and twitter are all full to the point of explosion with pictures of proposals, engagement rings and cute couples. Damn them and their happiness you say as they continue to rub your noses in it, you reluctantly "like" their picture, they have over 100 likes, it would be rude not to you think to yourself and you are no hater, hmm.
But don't worry single ladies, I've got a good feeling about this year, it's going to be your year, you will take a walk down the street, bump into someone, drop your books and gaze lovingly into that strangers eyes as he attempts to help you pick them up. He will become besotted with you and ask to be your boyfriend, you will conquer the world together and live happily every after (Disclaimer: If this hasn't happened by February 14th 2016 re-read this paragraph). To surmise, if you're sensitive about having noone special to share Valentines Day with, do yourself a favour and call in sick.
In reality though, it's just another day and if you really want to know it's origins and why so many people are made to feel so sh*tty on this day every year, you may want to watch this video. The origins of this celebration are more screwed up than you think. Would you care about this day if it wasn't so commercialised...probably not. Happy Valentines!
I have out lined this day as being even more devastating than the 14th for 2 reasons:
1. Women show off.
 |
| Before... |
 |
| ...After |
2. Everyone got engaged
It seems this was a bumper year for the diamond industry because everyone got engaged! Everyone except you! Facebook, Instagram and twitter are all full to the point of explosion with pictures of proposals, engagement rings and cute couples. Damn them and their happiness you say as they continue to rub your noses in it, you reluctantly "like" their picture, they have over 100 likes, it would be rude not to you think to yourself and you are no hater, hmm.
But don't worry single ladies, I've got a good feeling about this year, it's going to be your year, you will take a walk down the street, bump into someone, drop your books and gaze lovingly into that strangers eyes as he attempts to help you pick them up. He will become besotted with you and ask to be your boyfriend, you will conquer the world together and live happily every after (Disclaimer: If this hasn't happened by February 14th 2016 re-read this paragraph). To surmise, if you're sensitive about having noone special to share Valentines Day with, do yourself a favour and call in sick.
In reality though, it's just another day and if you really want to know it's origins and why so many people are made to feel so sh*tty on this day every year, you may want to watch this video. The origins of this celebration are more screwed up than you think. Would you care about this day if it wasn't so commercialised...probably not. Happy Valentines!
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