Wednesday night in The Plough is board game night. I only know this because I was sat in there last night, waiting for my girlfriend, tending to glass after glass of Havana club and coke with three wedges of lime.
"It has to be three wedges." I explained to the girl behind the bar. "I'm a bit OCD about it."
I'm not. Not at all. But you can't let these fuckers know that, otherwise they'll take the piss. I should know.
She handed me my glass, minus the lime. Fuck's sake.
"Can I have the lime, please?" I asked.
She took my drink off me and returned it seconds later with three wedges of lime and three slices of lemon. I could tell I was going to have problems with these cunts.
Eventually my girlfriend turned up. We did that whole talking to each other thing for a bit, enquiring how each other's day had gone.
"Fine." she said. "How was yours?"
What did she want me to say? "Yeah, fucking mint actually. While you were out working, I was sat at home all day dicking about on the internet, eating sandwiches and masturbating." I didn't say that.
"Fine." I said, as I swirled the ice and fruit sections around the otherwise empty glass with my straw.
Eventually we decided to play scrabble. It was a long and drawn out decision matched only by the long and drawn out way the girl behind the bar got the box for us. I didn't realise my girlfriend was in to scrabble, but then I didn't realise I was, so it was surprises all round.
We sparred for a bit, testing each other out, making use of the nice, empty board before it got all fucked up by our stupidity. After a while I noticed I had the chance for a good word. All the letters were there, and so was the opportunity to lay them. This was to be scrabble perfection.
"V - I - D - E - O - D" I spelled out the word as I lay the tiles.
"Videod?" questioned my girlfriend. "What the fuck is 'videod'?"
"Videoed you idiot. To video something. I 'videoed' the football last night because YOU wouldn't let me watch it."
"You missed out an 'E'." she said with the just right level of sarcasm to make me want to force feed her the entire board.
"Eh? Oh. So I did." I slid the missing E in to place and reiterated "videoed."
The game went on for a bit, the way it does. I laid down GONADS, she whinged about either having no vowels or all vowels. I was winning, but I always start well at scrabble, then fall to pieces as my interest wanes. I decided on a toilet break to keep my mind focused and my trousers dry. I tucked the bag of letter tiles in to my back pocket to make sure she couldn't cheat and walked off to the loo.
Half way through my functionings, two fellas walked in. They didn't go to the urinals, and they didn't use the cubicles. They just waited. This set off alarm bells in my head. Please God, I thought, let them wait for me to stick my Johnson back in its cage before they jump me. There's nothing worse than having to fight with your cock out. I was stuck in a tight position and no mistaking. Time was of the essence but the last thing I wanted was to put him away too soon and spoil the front of my flares.
As it was I had nothing to worry about. I finished off in a dignified manner, washed my hands, and walked to the door. The guys did nothing. It was only when I had to walk past them to the door did they say or do anything. The bigger of the two guys - he wasn't as tall as me, but hew was about three times wider - threw his arm across me and blocked my exit. I looked him about and down and then stared him squarely in the eye.
"You're playing with our board." He said.
"What?" I replied.
"You're playing with our board. That's our scrabble board. We play with that scrabble board."
"Oh. I'm sorry mate." I said. "The girl behind the bar gave it me." I reached for the door to try and open it, but the fella didn't move.
"You've spoiled our evening." He went on. "We always play scrabble here, and we can't tonight."
"Yeah. I wont be long. We're nearly done as it goes."
The man didn't say anything else. I didn't know what to say. It was an awkward couple of seconds. I reached for the door again, but the fella didn't move. I had to think quick. Diffuse the tension and swing the situation back in to my favour. I took a good look at the guy, and tried to sum him up. He was pure South East London. Shaved head, stripey polo shirt, jeans and white trainers. He had tattoos on his arms and hands, including LOVE HATE on the knuckles. That sort of class can't be taught. You're born with it.
I pointed at his LOVE HATE tattoo and said "LOATHE."
"You what?" he snapped.
"LOATHE." I replied. "If I'd had those letters I'd have tattooed LOATHE."
"You cheeky little cunt."
To be continued because I'm bored of typing.
"It has to be three wedges." I explained to the girl behind the bar. "I'm a bit OCD about it."
I'm not. Not at all. But you can't let these fuckers know that, otherwise they'll take the piss. I should know.
She handed me my glass, minus the lime. Fuck's sake.
"Can I have the lime, please?" I asked.
She took my drink off me and returned it seconds later with three wedges of lime and three slices of lemon. I could tell I was going to have problems with these cunts.
Eventually my girlfriend turned up. We did that whole talking to each other thing for a bit, enquiring how each other's day had gone.
"Fine." she said. "How was yours?"
What did she want me to say? "Yeah, fucking mint actually. While you were out working, I was sat at home all day dicking about on the internet, eating sandwiches and masturbating." I didn't say that.
"Fine." I said, as I swirled the ice and fruit sections around the otherwise empty glass with my straw.
Eventually we decided to play scrabble. It was a long and drawn out decision matched only by the long and drawn out way the girl behind the bar got the box for us. I didn't realise my girlfriend was in to scrabble, but then I didn't realise I was, so it was surprises all round.
We sparred for a bit, testing each other out, making use of the nice, empty board before it got all fucked up by our stupidity. After a while I noticed I had the chance for a good word. All the letters were there, and so was the opportunity to lay them. This was to be scrabble perfection.
"V - I - D - E - O - D" I spelled out the word as I lay the tiles.
"Videod?" questioned my girlfriend. "What the fuck is 'videod'?"
"Videoed you idiot. To video something. I 'videoed' the football last night because YOU wouldn't let me watch it."
"You missed out an 'E'." she said with the just right level of sarcasm to make me want to force feed her the entire board.
"Eh? Oh. So I did." I slid the missing E in to place and reiterated "videoed."
The game went on for a bit, the way it does. I laid down GONADS, she whinged about either having no vowels or all vowels. I was winning, but I always start well at scrabble, then fall to pieces as my interest wanes. I decided on a toilet break to keep my mind focused and my trousers dry. I tucked the bag of letter tiles in to my back pocket to make sure she couldn't cheat and walked off to the loo.
Half way through my functionings, two fellas walked in. They didn't go to the urinals, and they didn't use the cubicles. They just waited. This set off alarm bells in my head. Please God, I thought, let them wait for me to stick my Johnson back in its cage before they jump me. There's nothing worse than having to fight with your cock out. I was stuck in a tight position and no mistaking. Time was of the essence but the last thing I wanted was to put him away too soon and spoil the front of my flares.
As it was I had nothing to worry about. I finished off in a dignified manner, washed my hands, and walked to the door. The guys did nothing. It was only when I had to walk past them to the door did they say or do anything. The bigger of the two guys - he wasn't as tall as me, but hew was about three times wider - threw his arm across me and blocked my exit. I looked him about and down and then stared him squarely in the eye.
"You're playing with our board." He said.
"What?" I replied.
"You're playing with our board. That's our scrabble board. We play with that scrabble board."
"Oh. I'm sorry mate." I said. "The girl behind the bar gave it me." I reached for the door to try and open it, but the fella didn't move.
"You've spoiled our evening." He went on. "We always play scrabble here, and we can't tonight."
"Yeah. I wont be long. We're nearly done as it goes."
The man didn't say anything else. I didn't know what to say. It was an awkward couple of seconds. I reached for the door again, but the fella didn't move. I had to think quick. Diffuse the tension and swing the situation back in to my favour. I took a good look at the guy, and tried to sum him up. He was pure South East London. Shaved head, stripey polo shirt, jeans and white trainers. He had tattoos on his arms and hands, including LOVE HATE on the knuckles. That sort of class can't be taught. You're born with it.
I pointed at his LOVE HATE tattoo and said "LOATHE."
"You what?" he snapped.
"LOATHE." I replied. "If I'd had those letters I'd have tattooed LOATHE."
"You cheeky little cunt."
To be continued because I'm bored of typing.
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