The Rugby Ball

The day after Rough Disko was total fucking agony. After collapsing into the sack around breakfast time, my deeply shitfaced sleep was terminated before we’d made it to midday. I had to shake a wobbly leg as we were due in Wolverhampton for a ball at Jeff‘s brother‘s Rugby Club.

I’d never been to one before. During the hazy days of studying, they seemed to be mainly populated by posh tools from the home counties who used them as ways to show off the contents of their wallets and trousers. But the idea of dressing up now is a freaking treat. The week up to it was spent scouting out potential outfits which I fucked up totally by hiring a pair of trousers that a 13 year old girl with an eating problem wouldn’t be able to fit in. Cue frantic ringing of chums in an attempt to locate a pair of pantaloons that would allow me to breath. Props to Andy Pembs for coming through at the last minute and making up for my poor movements. Following the pick up of a pair of pointy shoes and a lengthy brushing of teeth we were off to the party…



new fucking shoes friend



Ancient couple getting all cute and freaky on the dancefloor



Drunk fireman Sean

On arrival we were surrounded by big burly rugby players. I was a little groggy when we descended but one fellow took pleasure in informing me it was gonna be a late do and that a lot of booze would be sank. It took me a while to realise he was taking the piss but thankfully he was so fucked later I could rip it out of him without receiving a cauliflower ear (which appeared to be de rigeaur - no one told me otherwise I would have spent the previous night getting in a fight rather than getting in a mess)…

There was a Tom Jones tribute act (second in last year’s Britain Got Talent natch), a ton of orange war paint, a great deal of mutton trussed up like lamb, dancing, shouting, several wedges of fine cheese, a hog roast and a drunk fireman. All wrapped up in a lovely Wolvo twang. It was top. Ta-ra in a bit.



Wetting the whistle



Lovely, stinky, lovely cheese



hype?



The Tom Jones impersonator



Laying it down



Vibe?



tit



Raw bloody nostrils the morning after