Thursday Smack

Average guy visits local discotheque Smack on a Thursday evening.

A post-evening debrief with the lads. Tell them how many ‘birds’ I ‘slayed’.  Well…this was not quite what happened last week. The only bodily fluid all over my bed was a reconstructed Viallis (it looks only slightly less appetising than when they serve it to you! I urge anyone who has not tried a Viallis during the day to do so as it is a real eye opener – unless of course you are drunk during the day…)  Ok, I lied.  Ending up alone is not quite as rare as I make out. Well the once or twice I go out a week.

I don’t know why the males of Warwick complain so much about the talent here.  A simple remedy if you have poor eyesight like me is as follows: leave your glasses and contacts at home.  What you can’t see doesn’t hurt you…

I started last week’s night out with such high hopes as I had got a little momentum going from my previous nights out.  Keep things the same I thought.  So although I do not hit the gym much, I decided that I should get my ‘pump’ on.  Checking myself out secretly in Bizz, I thought damn those arms look better.  However, as I stood there straining, I thought to myself that the only muscle I wanted to be working out this evening unfortunately does not get bigger however much I ‘train’.  After all that standing at the gym and talking to people I don’t really know, I treated myself to a protein shake.

Returning home I realised that I had volunteered my i-pod for pre-drinks.  There were some people I didn’t know going so I thought ‘Call me Maybe’ or ‘Little Things’ would not be the perfect introduction especially as I had my eye on a certain bird.  All was sorted however when I downloaded a ‘Deep House Set’ although I didn’t know what I would say if anyone asked me to name any of the songs.

Smelling of all the products that my female housemate’s have in our communal bathroom, I walk up to the door of Smack and shake Gav, the doorman’s hand as if we‘re best mates.  Straight to the bar and served straight away.  This is going well I thought.  Until I realise that the hazy figure who has just asked me what I would like to drink is a past conquest (in quite literally the loosest sense of the word) who was no doubt left unimpressed by my drunken sexual repertoire.   The Jaegars started mixing with the protein shake forcing me to retreat to the downstairs toilets. Looking around at the Playboy Montage, I told myself that they were not the only breasts I would lay my eyes on tonight.  I didn’t need any ‘splash for gash’ or  spray for lay’ from the toilet attendant as I was going to pull on my own!

Disaster, the girl had gone.  If I was in Altoria, I would know exactly what to do – take the lead from the wannabe wanker bankers and get myself a picture with some grey goose.  In the cold light of day, I realise that I probably couldn’t have afforded a bottle.  Minimum wage in my part time job with a tight boss does me no favours.  The sort of boss who pulling up in his new car goes to me, having just complimented his new purchase goes, “Well….work hard, put the hours in, and I’ll have an even better one next year.” 

I had lost the girl and the club was dying by two.  I went for a little shark in Viallis to no avail and the only bird I left with were chicken legs, which amazingly probably had less fat on them than the last thing I found in there.  Told my friends I was going to skip the lecture the next morning.  But like all the other people who said they weren’t going, we were bleary eyed but there nevertheless.