
It has been a long time since I had gone out with my main man Reiss, when I met him outside his block of flats he informed me disregarding our fleeting encounters in the street and on public transport we had not been out together since before his birthday in April.
It was nice meeting up with him again as we don’t get the chance to do it much these days due to us both having girlfriends outside London and work commitments (he works weekends while I choose if I want to), we decided to head to our old stomping ground The Mucky Pup.
On the bus to Angel I said something incredibly funny which had Reiss in stitches and he proclaimed it to be the funniest thing he had heard, and for the fucking life of me I can’t remember for one minute what I said. The funniest thing I’ll probably ever come up with and I can’t remember it, typical!
When we walked into the pub there was nobody in the main bar, had they known I was returning? Had Reiss phoned ahead and warned them? Had they sent out lookouts? Whatever had happened it has failed because there were a couple of people in the other bar and also in the beer garden.
I got a verbal lesson in pool by a 61 year old black lady waving her walking stick, had someone spill their drink on me, my seat stolen on more than one occasion and was attacked my flies every time I went to the toilet. Nice to know nothing has changed.
Every time I went to the toilet a swarm of tiny black flies would leave their hiding places and swarm towards me and bounce off my face as I tried not to piss down my leg. I have been reliably informed that these are known as ‘piss flies’ and are common in grubby toilets – and none are more grubby than those at the Mucky Pup.
I have seen men hold onto a piss for hours rather than use the putrid facilities on offer. In fact the only toilets I have seen in a worse state are the ones at The Intrepid Fox in Tottenham Court Road.
No night would be complete without returning home without something as a memento and I awoke the next day to find a giant cardboard cut-out of a bottle of Coca-Cola in my front garden.