The Magic Man

Ricky Bobby: From now on, it's Magic Man and El Diablo.
Cal Naughton, Jr.: What does El Diablo mean?
Ricky Bobby: It's like Spanish for like a fighting chicken.

John mentioned that it'd be worth documenting a night out that could possibly not be worth remembering, but for the sake of it we'd better have some record that the following did actually take place. The story you are about to read is true, and happened in the not too distant past. More than likely involving you, the dear reader.

Imagine, if you will, a small bar/club in London. It's dark outside. Through the condensation on the glass windows you can see a mass of young people. The beat is repetitive and contagious. We step inside....

The beats belong to the party RnB playing on the clubs sound system. We're approached by a lady who appears to work there.

'Do you guys have guestlist?' she enquired.
'We're invited' answers Dips. (by the way, the words are totally being made up while i write this).
'Yeh - they're with us' says some guy, approaching the group.

Now, I'm trying to remember where we had been prior to heading to this club. We had been drinking. I'm fairly certain it was in a pub in Camden. Mornington Crescent. The Crescent (Great place). We had watched the football. It's all coming back to me....

'Wow, this place is great' Jait says 'I'll get some beers!'

Jait shortly returns with some beer. Was it Leffe? It was quite strong. Alberto, John and myself find some chairs and kick back - there are a -lot- of asian people here. The mood is distinctly chilled - unlike the asian nights of yore. We're starving and need to get out, there're too many people there, the queue to the bar is too long, and word is there's a KFC around the corner. Jait is busying himself dancing with Dips and Sharan - Alberto, John and myself make a swift exit.

After exploring Holborn fairly thoroughly, we fail to find an open KFC. We head east towards liverpool street. another FKFC closed for the night. What's the next best thing? a schnitzel take away. What's a schnitzel I asked - Let's try it, Alberto replied. We've been gone for over an hour....

Return to the bar after getting slightly lost - to find Jait has moved - he's now dancing up against the window, running around (was he saying 'Let's go running?' as he had been through most of the Foo Fighters concert??) and generally being merry.

Now - this is a typical asian gig - there are x people in the club, and there's usually a token white guy (TWG) around. The one in this club is wearing a tuxedo. Hang on - is that Yiannis from our MSc in Bath!? YES - it is! what the devil!? We end up catching up and killing time. It seemed he had been wearing that tuxedo for the past few days, having gone for his companies christmas ball and owing to all the parties, not managed to get home since.

Next thing you know it's time to go home (how time flies when you're dancing to bhangra and RnB). We wait outside, but after all that dancing (????) we need a seat. hm - well - there's a stack of them hiding behind the bar. Let's go get some!

Then, there's some guy running (very slowly) after another guy half his size. The guy manages to run away, with the big guy shouting explitives at him...

'Language!!!' shouts dips
'***** ********** * ****** $£@$!$%@$%@$!!!!' shouts the big guy, going up to dips

in the following mellee we find a few of us getting tangled up - somehow a midget has come into the mix - what next? a bearded lady and the lobster girl?

'I'm going to get my shooter. I'm going to get my shooter. I've got a wife and kids - I'm a mature responsible adult. I'm going to get my shooter' the midget exclaims, flailing his arms wildy trying to draw attention to himself....

Sharan sits there bemused...

'For ****s sake - you're 27! act your age!' she shouts (to us - not the midget, who could not have been over 13 and a half)

everything comes to an abrupt halt. damn - we're old.

'Um. Ah. yeh - best be on my way - and i'll take the midget with me....' says the big guy, picking up the midget and resting him on his shoulder.

'John???? Jait???????' No sooner is that done than we find an old friend, Kishan, coming out of the club. 'What are you guys doing here???' We haven't seen Kishan for years - since leaving Cardiff - so after a quick catch up, we're back in the taxi - heading home.....

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the true story of the night that Dips took us to an asian gig*.

* all plot lines are based on 1% nonfictional events. the people and places in this story have been created for purposes of this story and are not based on real people. If you feel that the characters do, in fact, exist at this time and dimension, you can bite my shiny metal ass.