So, one of those standard industry dos last night.

[Sir C]

I've been going to them for 30 years. The usual suspects in attendance.

Knowing I was going to drink a fair amount I managed to avoid eating anything. Offered a line or two by several old chums. Declined. 'Invited' to join the group heading off to the titties bar. Declined. Sloped off to bed at 1, still capable of cogent thought.

As a relatively recent convert to this whole 'clean living' stuff, I can tell you with absolute certainty that it is shít and not to be recommended. :-(

[Burney]

I've been going to them for 30 years. The usual suspects in attendance.

Knowing I was going to drink a fair amount I managed to avoid eating anything. Offered a line or two by several old chums. Declined. 'Invited' to join the group heading off to the titties bar. Declined. Sloped off to bed at 1, still capable of cogent thought.

As a relatively recent convert to this whole 'clean living' stuff, I can tell you with abolsute certainty that it is shít and not to be recommended. :-(

Tell me, does the smugness of waking up in the morning not feeling as though you're going to die imminently act as any sort of compensation?

[Sir C]

Tell me, does the smugness of waking up in the morning not feeling as though you're going to die imminently act as any sort of compensation?

Absolutely not. You still have a hangover, even if it's a little milder than usual, but your soul hasn't been enriched by new experiences; no chance conversations in a toilet cubicle with an unexpectedly interesting fellow, no learning of new cultures from a Hungarian stripper called Magda, no encounters with bizarre individuals in the street whilst walking back to your hotel at 5 a.m. There's just this emptiness inside and the knowledge that you are as dull as mince and essentially dead. :-(

[Monty92]

Absolutely not. You still have a hangover, even if it's a little milder than usual, but your soul hasn't been enriched by new experiences; no chance conversations in a toilet cubicle with an unexpectedly interesting fellow, no learning of new cultures from a Hungarian stripper called Magda, no encounters with bizarre individuals in the street whilst walking back to your hotel at 5 a.m. There's just this emptiness inside and the knowledge that you are as dull as mince and essentially dead. :-(

You should get back on the psychedelics. You can have all of these experiences in the confines of your own mind, from the comfort of your own bed.

[Burney]

You should get back on the psychedelics. You can have all of these experiences in the confines of your own mind, from the comfort of your own bed.

Oh, yes. Did you open the doorsh of pershepshun out in cloggyland?

[Pat Vegas]

I've been going to them for 30 years. The usual suspects in attendance.

Knowing I was going to drink a fair amount I managed to avoid eating anything. Offered a line or two by several old chums. Declined. 'Invited' to join the group heading off to the titties bar. Declined. Sloped off to bed at 1, still capable of cogent thought.

As a relatively recent convert to this whole 'clean living' stuff, I can tell you with absolute certainty that it is shít and not to be recommended. :-(

Was there a well coordinated delivery of the food to the tables.
I love watching those fellas who point them where to go

[Sir C]

Was there a well coordinated delivery of the food to the tables.
I love watching those fellas who point them where to go

There was. It must be like a military operation in those kitchen to get all those meals out at the same time.

The comedian was an Irish chap who simply wasn't funny.

[Monty92]

Oh, yes. Did you open the doorsh of pershepshun out in cloggyland?

:nod: We took 33g, which would be known in the trade as a "heroic" dose.

I got The Full Monty. Dissolution of the self, vivid hallucinations, a deep sense of being a part of nature, buried childhood memories, insights into relationships, and all sorts.

It was like 20 years of psychoanalysis in 8 hours. Although worryingly my grandma's inappropriate touching didn't feature once, which suggests I'm entirely comfortable and at peace with her molestation of me :-\

[Burney]

There was. It must be like a military operation in those kitchen to get all those meals out at the same time.

The comedian was an Irish chap who simply wasn't funny.

Was there fondant potato that was still raw in the middle? That to me is the essence of black-tie mass catering.

[Burney]

:nod: We took 33g, which would be known in the trade as a "heroic" dose.

I got The Full Monty. Dissolution of the self, vivid hallucinations, a deep sense of being a part of nature, buried childhood memories, insights into relationships, and all sorts.

It was like 20 years of psychoanalysis in 8 hours. Although worryingly my grandma's inappropriate touching didn't feature once, which suggests I'm entirely comfortable and at peace with her molestation of me :-\

Yeah, everyone thinks it's a profound experience the first time. Sadly, the law of diminishing returns kicks in when you know what to expect.

No trip I ever had matched the wonder of the first one.

[Sir C]

Was there fondant potato that was still raw in the middle? That to me is the essence of black-tie mass catering.

I only nibbled at the edge of my overdone fillet steak, so as to free up some calories for the wine.

[Monty92]

Yeah, everyone thinks it's a profound experience the first time. Sadly, the law of diminishing returns kicks in when you know what to expect.

No trip I ever had matched the wonder of the first one.

Interesting. I guess I'll find out one day. Might be a while till the missus signs off on another trip of that kind though :hehe:

:-|

[Viva Prat Vegas]

Sir C "The comedian was an Irish chap who simply wasn't funny."

:hehe:

Was it Mrs Brown ?


Or Sinead O'Connor

[Burney]

I only nibbled at the edge of my overdone fillet steak, so as to free up some calories for the wine.

You going to the SMMT one on the 27th? That awful Canadian woman with too many teeth is the entertainment. :-(

[Herbert Augustus Chapman]

:nod: We took 33g, which would be known in the trade as a "heroic" dose.

I got The Full Monty. Dissolution of the self, vivid hallucinations, a deep sense of being a part of nature, buried childhood memories, insights into relationships, and all sorts.

It was like 20 years of psychoanalysis in 8 hours. Although worryingly my grandma's inappropriate touching didn't feature once, which suggests I'm entirely comfortable and at peace with her molestation of me :-\

never actually came in granny's mouth it wouldn't even count as incest.

[Herbert Augustus Chapman]

Yeah, everyone thinks it's a profound experience the first time. Sadly, the law of diminishing returns kicks in when you know what to expect.

No trip I ever had matched the wonder of the first one.

33g must have been mushrooms?

A poor and inferior version of the old lysergic anyhoo.

[Burney]

33g must have been mushrooms?

A poor and inferior version of the old lysergic anyhoo.

I think he said it was mescaline.

[Sir C]

You going to the SMMT one on the 27th? That awful Canadian woman with too many teeth is the entertainment. :-(

I’m not, no. I haven’t been to that one in years, actually. I hate all of them equally now I come to think of it.

[Sir C]

Sir C "The comedian was an Irish chap who simply wasn't funny."

:hehe:

Was it Mrs Brown ?


Or Sinead O'Connor


Andrew Ryan. Just not funny.

[Herbert Augustus Chapman]

I think he said it was mescaline.

Monty? . . . . . . .

[Burney]

I’m not, no. I haven’t been to that one in years, actually. I hate all of them equally now I come to think of it.

I've been going to rather too many of them lately. I think my next (and last) of the year is in Manchester at the end of November. :-(

I find they're rendered more acceptable by waking up in one's own bed, though. Getting an Uber home from central London is both much cheaper than a hotel room and avoids that awful 'where the fùck am I?' moment one gets with hotel rooms.

[Monty92]

I think he said it was mescaline.

Psilocybin mushroom

[Herbert Augustus Chapman]

I've been going to rather too many of them lately. I think my next (and last) of the year is in Manchester at the end of November. :-(

I find they're rendered more acceptable by waking up in one's own bed, though. Getting an Uber home from central London is both much cheaper than a hotel room and avoids that awful 'where the fùck am I?' moment one gets with hotel rooms.

Yeah, but if you're lucky and pull some grimy old slapper with a fanny that stenches like a pilchard (c's mum) you can't take her home with you - unless you sneak her into the wánking shed.