We threw another Rough Disko party at Penelopes in July - It was a ‘residents special’ which translates in promoter terms as ‘we’re skint and we can’t afford any guests’.
However, in this case it was pretty sweet to get the chance to flex a bit of musical muscle from behind the decks. And it went off in a satisfying manner. One of the best moments was when the 'party bus' arrived at 10.30pm with a gang of revellers in tow. It stops off at various places around Yorkshire, transporting piss heads to various locations in search of good times.
This group of shitfaced teachers waltzed in, demanded the new Chris Brown single, smashed a glass and then fucked off. I was glad to see them go.
We’re throwing a series of monthly parties from October. Keep those peepers peeled for line ups…
Afterwards we celebrated by getting on a ketamine tip. It’s an experience which has punctuated the summer like an occasional equine-based bomb blast to the brain. It’s pretty disorientating and results in the user reverting to a child-like state. It is meant for horses so I guess this is unsurprising.
The next eve we missed the C90 party with DJ Rupture due to a bbq engagement in Beighton. It was a delightful experience until a gang of marauding slugs bum-rushed the show. One minute there weren’t any around - the next a whole tribe had started to get jiggy with the burgers. It was unfortunate I’d reached the stage of wolfing down a steak sandwich fresh off the grill. My fragile state of mind led to me believing that the bap I was sticking in my wobbly gob wasn’t stuffed with lovely, fragrant meat - but a gang of hungry slugs. Cue food popping back into mouth, cue little bit of sick in hand, cue giving oneself a talking to. Topping that Jeff bit me.
It hurt.
Raving - this guy was here before we opened the doors and danced around like a loon til the end. Props.
Bite marks
No comments:
Post a Comment