Stop trying to get people thrown out of clubs

It’s not big and it’s not clever and you’re a shitebag if you do. 

On a recent night out I was sitting in a highly entertaining queue for the toilets minding no one’s business but my own when a foul mouthed idiot with huge hair approached me looking for fisticuffs at dawn.

Well well, my night just went from being funny to absolutely bloody hilarious.

stimulant for the night

Anyone who knows the female loos in most clubs knows if you’re at the end of the queue you’re basically sitting behind the door like a convicted inmate.

And we all do it, no one wants to lose their place in the coveted loo queue.

Someone enters, hits me with the door and upon her very dramatic entrance notices me perched awkwardly behind the door struggling to hold in my wee.

And I mean, really struggling. Vodka cranberry does that to a girl.

Trying my best to hold it

The girl smiles at me with all the sincerity of a hungry crocodile, and proceeds to hold the door open for her friend, so wide that I am squashed against the sink.

When informed of my discomfort my soon to be mortal enemy threatened to have me and my loyal band of brothers, the “wee Glasgow Uni bastards”, kicked out.

Delightful.

And after a long rant from her about my apparent idiocy and unnatractive personal appearance; during which I couldn’t stop laughing, she left the bathroom to “tell on me”.

Oh and throughout her rant, she referred to me as “darling”, oh no.

Why do people do that? Is spilling your drink on someone’s new tacky boohoo dress or telling someone that they’re squashing you really deserving of a premature end to the night and the embarrassment of being escorted out by bouncers?

The arm behind the back thing that bouncers do is an added bonus because at this point you’re embarassed, pissed off and pretty sure your elbow is about to dislocate.

The sixth finger is effective

Why are we all so shallow?

No one in Tesco threatens to have you chucked out when you accidentally bash them with your trolley. Though, Black Friday in Glasgow was an experience.

No one gets barred from Greggs when they skip the queue.

Alcohol makes us vicious.

And it’s not just the abrupt ending of the night that people want, but the utter humiliation of being thrown out like a bag of rubbish ripe for the bin.

Alcohol makes you feel lose and sort of out of control. Gnarly.

Being a tell-tale to the bouncers makes people feel like they’ve found a solution to their problems. They’re in control.

But they’re actually just petulant children with a god complex and not enough balls to throw a punch.

Only issue is, like the absolute fanny that tried to have me thrown out, it doesn’t always work and then you just end up looking like a pathetic clipe.

Sorry, hun.

Can’t look me in the eye now can you “darling”?

If I go the pillar goes too

Also, just because you’re wearing a nice dress and heels doesn’t make you better than me because I’m wearing trainers and a christmas jumper.

It’s a Monday for Christ’s sake.

I’d rather be a Glasgow Uni bastard than an uptight, pretentious brat any day of the week.