Sunday's Funday

So with cunning and guile, we decided to screw looking for a housing location and just have a fun day in London. We started off having great food in a pub near Victoria, where Rex and I had some lovely Roast Beef and various roast dinner accessories. We then walked along Buckingham Palace road, where we were walking along doing the "manamana" song, when Vic Reeves was walking the opposite direction. His eyes were all like "come on then, I challenge you to say something" so we didn't, as he could've been packing heat. Into a box made from some thermal material that prevents, or at least delays the escape of such heat so it can be sold to the growing market in heat, possibly cold places, Lapland and the such like. (Reality Note: This was actually Vic Reeves, and not some crazy pseudo-psychedelic trip). We marvelled at Buckingham Palace, and the mp5 the police dude was carrying behind the gates, who I reckoned I could rush and slash before he could do anything with that thing. Moving on through St James' Park, where we admired a water fall type sculpture for the Canadians who died in the war for us, and then onward through Hyde park to see the pretty cool Winter Wonderland. Where I was too full from lunch to eat any German Sausage, which made me a little sad.

After frolicking there, we made our way to speakers corner and Marble Arch. Seriously, speaker people are insane, and scary. Especially old guy standing on a crate, on his own, silent. Eerie. We marched down Oxford Street, playing in various shops, until our desire for Nero flooded our brains and with my sharp wit, found a place on Regent Street, where I'd been before. We got some comfy seats and sat there for a decent period of time basking in our lifestyle. Onward towards Leicester square in attempt to find half price theatre tickets. But it was Sunday you fools! and therefore all shows were shut, we shed an emo tear for a bit, but moved on the covent garden.

Where there was a guitarist who was very good, so we sat and enjoyed him for a while, until his set was over and we were stuck with what to do. Shing whipped out her wap, and found a random place called Smollenskys that promised live jazz that night. Once we found it on the strand, it seemed far to swanky for us ragamuffins (read Tom the ragamuffin) but we ventured in anyway, and they were jolly nice. We got a nice sofa seat quite close to the piano, and although no one was on yet, we got a drink and relaxed. At about 7.30 it got a bit busier and the singer(large black woman), piano player and bass dude came out, and began. Turned out they were extremely excellent, her voice was effortlessly amazing, and they all looked like they were having a good time. We were hungry at this point so ordered food, which wasn't that much surprisingly. I had some yummy penne pasta with bacon and chicken. I think.
Once they finished, we got crazy cocktails, mine (Cooler Shaker) being infused with pomegranate and kiwi fruit, much to my initial confusion, then delight. After paying for Rex as we were semi celebrating his birthday, we walked back along the Thames and past various sexy sexy London landmarks, that were totally deserted as it was a Sunday. We then met Pete, Asim, and Jon in The Camel, and had a drink there before they closed. Varying conversations on large penis urinising occurred much to Shing's mental anguish. On returning to Shing's, some strange serious of events, reminiscent of a Mighty Boosh episode, which we happened to be watching, resulting in Jon, Asim and Me to drink vast quantities of export strength gin. Reminding me of varying times where I took 15 year olds on in drinking contests with gin. Not only this, but at some point Shing wanted to down a drink with me, even though hers was water I agreed, unfortunately in her wilyness she had knocked over my gin and tonic and replaced it with straight gin. After some throat burning I came through relatively unscathed and not actually realising what she'd done until she explained. She then concocted various horrendous mixes of Ameretto and hazelnut liquor to make me drink, which I did mainly due to Asim's flattering me as he thought I was some form of "Van Wilder character". Then he realised I did computer science (what he did), and was surprised. More mighty boosh was watched then, retirement, where I perfected the voice of Eeyore, my sleeping buddy, and then insomnia was my friend once more.

Stereotypical London:
The detail in this post is brought to you by Shing's incredible memory. Did you know this is my 900th post? Cos I do. Take that Jesus.


General Ramblings and Observations by Tom of Earth: a cryptic emotionally-driven look into the life of times of the infamous sock wearer, gadget-whore, unintentional blasphemer, hypocrite, servant of Xenu, Pastafarian, absurdist and thantophobic...without me, its just aweso

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