We attempted to orchestrate an all day piss up to push the birthday feeling on further in late September. After some serious head scratching, a request was sent out to key crew members to assemble at the Duke of Wellington boozer near Haggerston for a big, long drink. And drink we did.
The Duke is a scratty, viby wee boozer near the overground station which is not full of douchebags or dickheads (apart from us). That was the only requirement. No douchey dudes and no gourmet shit. Both requests were dutifully regarded by the boozer whose only nod to scran was a silver tray of sausage rolls, some bits of pitta bread and a handful of plum tomatoes. The beige scran got snaffled quick sharp, ravaged like truffles around pigs while the red tings were used as weapons. Oh yes. By the time we left everyone was completely bog eyed, shouting while certain crew dem had resorted to vomiting as an escape route. We went to Power Lunchs to check local beat combo VV, then retired to the Marquis for more Kronenburg but by that time, our collective shit had totally been lost. Props to all those who repped! I tried to get a photo of every pint partaken of but failed to capture them all. Here's a handful of 'em...
|Crazed manic pooch|
|The birthday spread|