There is a policy for this blog: Ask no questions, and I will tell no lies. (Publicly - if you ask me in private I will happily disclose my dirty little secrets).
So, I managed to wangle an invite for myself and Alex to attend the Sushi Samba One Year Anniversary Party (at is at this point we adopt our policy). Now I wasn't exactly invited by name but I had a hard copy of the invite and enough courage from Alex to attempt to blag it on the door. Believing I was Billie Big Balls I told them I was essentially a big deal, and quite shockingly they believed me... up to the 38th floor of the Heron Tower we flew.
|We made it!|
Our motto for the evening consisted quite simply of: BE COOL. BE COOL. BE COOL. (Not something that comes all too naturally). Whilst we only sampled one piece of sushi each (these cool kids act like they've never seen food before, I wasn't about to be the fat kid that deprived them), we certainly sampled our fair share of the champers. It was after we had guzzled a few pints of the Verve that a very awkward situation occurred.
Smiling Lady: I love your coat!
Billie: Thank you - it's my favourite!
Smiling Lady: It's mine.
Billie: *feeling a little confused and wondering whether she was going to steal it from me* Ummmm...no I don't think so - it's mine.
Smiling Lady: No, no, no. I'm Alice Temperley - I designed that coat.
Twatface: Ohhhhhh. It's my favourite. (well done, well incoherent just repeat what you previously said)
Alice Temperley: Well it looks great on you (bbrrrppppp) Have a good night!
I finally managed to pick my jaw up form the floor and shout behind her to have a good night too. Just call me a smooth operator.
A few more (clearly unnecessary) glasses of Verve meant two things:
1) We had made friends with the bar tender who constantly topped up our glasses before anyone else's.
2) We should have a dance since Neneh Cherry and Grimmy were playing and were supposed to be really into them...because the invitation told us to be.
A revelation: Apparently cool kids don't dance, they just shuffle along the dance floor shmoosing and air kissing - I think this was our give away that we weren't part of that crowd...
More dancing, more drinking and more laughing ensued and before I knew it, it was time for Cinderella to leave to ball. We arrived downstairs at the same time as Mark Francis who seemed to be shouting 'Where the fuck is my car?!'... to nobody. Giggling like school girls who had just crashed the party of the fit boy two years above we were greeted by a gaggle of paparazzi who were about to take our picture before they released...we weren't anyone worth writing a shit piece about in DM Online.
The night ended in Liverpool station scoffing fast food and getting a stitch from laughing after realising we were both smashed and had to be up for work in less than 6 hours - that part was not chic.
The next day at work I was suitably smug when I was telling everyone about my new BFF Nicole, until I was brought down a peg by picking up dry cleaning. Oh real world - I have not missed you.
London adventures continue...
Fatty BB xxx