It ended with a friend snogging a girl called Miki Moo.
I guess you could say it was just one of those evenings.
At one point the four of us; two friends from Holland, a lesbian clingon and myself, walked into the lesbian bar just behind the main bus street.
It was like a scene from a Clint Eastwood film. Silence befell the short haired crowd and one could almost hear someone thinking: "We don't like your sort in here..." as all faces turned to see us.
It started with over-cooked steaks and a horrendous tour of Manchester. I specially devised it so visiting comrades from the Netherlands would get a good idea of what Manchester is like.
However, the highlight of my tour was the Hycienda (where all the great indy bands once played)...which is now an appartment complex.
I was sincerely advised to drop the tour. And the steaks.
At one point we were drinking our pints in a gay bar in, what is commonly called, the village. It doesn't look like a village, so I can only presume that "village" is gay slang for "cave entrance", which I can only presume has anal connectations.
That's where we met the lesbian.
Unlike most lesbians I know back in Holland, this lesbian had medium long hair. And that's me just talking about her moustache.
She was one of those people who was obviously proud of her sexuality. She kept saying (and I mean KEPT REPEATING): "I'm gay. I'm a lady. You're rude. I'm gay. I'm a lady. You're rude."
A nightmarish cross between "the only gay in the village" (from Little Britain) and Jar Jar binks.
Obviously we tried to ditch her, but equally obviously, we ended up in a lesbian bar.
The argument that won us over was: "I'm gay. I'm a lady. Lots of hot lesbo action."
We only drank one pint in the lesbian bar. It really was quite excrutiating.
Again we tried to ditch her, but the lesbian clung on like, well, like a clungon really. She followed us to one bar and then to the next. All the time telling us she was "...So gay and a lady." and when we tried to tell her that she was unshaven, she kept repeating that we were so rude.
Eventually, in a bar called Yates' (on the main bus street in Manchester), and at this time the only thing that was hanging around us were bar flies and lesbians, she started dancing with someone else's girlfriend. We saw our chance. Well, two of us did. One of us, the guy who was later to kiss Miki Moo, was busy talking to the girl's, who was being seduced by the lesbian clingon, boyfriend about Peru.
We were standing at the door. Me subtely waving to get Ray's attention and Marco smiling politely at the bouncers.
Eventually Ray got the hint.
Marco and me strolled down the street towards Fab (and the Miki Moo encounter) and Ray came running out of Yates', flipflops and all, screaming: "RUN FOR IT!!!". Which we did. Lesbian clingon, hair and all, on our trail.
We eventually lost her by weaving through the small streets in China town.
There is no moral to this story really. And my time is up, otherwise I would tell you about the Miki Moo encounter which was like a scene from "Saturday night fever" crossed with something thoroughly sweaty.
Oh well.
Originally posted by shavixmirI didn't really understand any of that. However, somehow that didn't detract from my enjoyment of the tale.
It ended with a friend snogging a girl called Miki Moo.
I guess you could say it was just one of those evenings.
At one point the four of us; two friends from Holland, a lesbian clingon and myself, walked into the lesbian bar just behind the main bus street.
It was like a scene from a Clint Eastwood film. Silence befell the short haired crowd and o ...[text shortened]... fever" crossed with something thoroughly sweaty.
Oh well.