Tuesday, 10 August 2010

Blasting to the past and back again...

Although there have been a lorry load of big and new tunes unmasking themselves all over 2010, I've been constantly reminded of great shit that I've missed. I don't know how. I must have been really busy with something.

We attended an impromptu Numbers party the other week down at Plastic People. Despite an overly rigorous search on the way, where I even had to take my specs off and smile at a camera, the night was intensely beefy. On a deeply nerdy level, the sound system is some next level business. Although it's loud enough to ensure your balls wobble, you can also enjoy a conversation with your dancing buddy without shouting so hard the veins in your tongue pop. Serious. Jackmaster was on the decks and he played this pair of bombs. Arguably an erection section but it was so loud my penis was cowering. Very fearful. Dick talk nonetheless...





I've also been feeling this one of late - they didn't play it at Numbers but it's got a big, salty hook in it and worth repping here. Oooof...






LADS HAVING A LADDISH EVENING LADS

Sometimes LADS just need to be LADS. LADS. For certain gents this can mean getting tanked up and getting their fists out. For others it can involve visiting a sexy emporium for a cheap, yet attention-seeking thrill.

However, we did something a little different. The other Wednesday night we managed to smash through some breathtakingly stubborn culinary taboos to enjoy a Lasagne sandwich. The best thing about it was the fact it was just one of a number of LADDISH activities we enjoyed. Who would have thought it? I was convinced you could only be so LADDISH in one evening. But, if you put your mind to it, you can do a range of manly tings.

Our evening began with some nerdy record buying in Soho, then onto a Sam Smith's boozer for their legendary £2.20 pints of Alpine. It was at this stage that the first Lasagne sandwich was unleashed. Despite looking like the sort of munch that only a terminally drunk goat could enjoy, this 'fusion' fodder is actually delicious. I don't use the word 'fusion' lightly. It's filling sure. Yet intensely delicious. In the long hot summer of 2010, the double carb hit is where it's at.



Being in Soho, arguably the must-head destination for a perve in the smoke, there was only one to take the evening deeper. Sex shops. Not for the pornography. But for the room odouriser. Turns out honking on poppers just outside Tottenham Court Road Tube is an intriuging look for tourists. Breath it in babes. And also arguably the only way to open up the stomach muscles to ingest more double carb action.

Back at the ranch, and with the scent of amyl burning the nose hair, we set about grilling the other lasagne sandwich. Grill it we did. If Deilia was dead, which I don't think she is, she would have been turning in her grave.

video

It was perhaps the most LADDISH evening of 2010. I've never felt more manly. Props to D for the images and video. Apologies for the ugliness...