my week so far

Heya this is how my week’s going so far it’s a right party I’m really enjoying all the revision and everything.

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drugs and knives

Last night, I partied at the infamous Lakota in Stokes Croft, which recently reopened after it was forced to shut down in May last year when a sixteen-year-old boy got totes mashed on MDMA and mega OD-ed. Ecstasy ftw. With some massive nights on since it’s relaunch, the club is rapidly regaining its reputation as one of the best venues for music in the city. The club has a brand new website and even a new slogan “still got it”; great, good to know you’ve still got it after poisoning some underager with dodgy amphetamines.

You’d have thought they would have upped the security a little this time round, but no. Jazzy Jeff—that guy who’s BFFs with the Fresh Prince of Bel-air—DJed but, instead of the main room being filled with students and avid hip hop fans, it was more like a scene from Doncaster Warehouse, with a dusting of shady drug dealers lining the perimeter of the club to complete the vibe.

Whilst innocently dancing to some actually pretty decent music, it came to our attention that one of our friends was being quietly mugged in one corner of the room. Being the hero that I am with clearly the biggest biceps and most testosterone in town, I drunkenly ran in to save him. I just thought, we have to deal with this situation pragmatically and get that mofo out of there. However, my attempt to save the day failed when my arm was forcefully grabbed by a stereotypical gangster as he told me that, if I didn’t walk away immediately, I would be penetrated with his blade. At first I took what he said as an innuendo and thought he was flirting, and to be honest I nearly leaped on him there and then (I’ve always been partial to a black guy).

But it soon became clear that it was time to get security involved, who merely patted the guy down and told him to stop threatening people, and we were left in a similar, but slightly more aggravated, situation as the one before. After this, as I pulled the hopeless victim away from our new friends, I was told we would all be knifed later on in the evening if they saw us again. At least I had something to look forward to. This afternoon, another friend who was there last night told me he was also mugged by some Gs, who stole his phone. Lakota, “still got it” (#fail).

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bristol: the unofficial tourist guide

Photos: Theo Cottle

After living in a new city for a year, you’d have probably settled in (or left already), and you should be able to reflect on your experiences so far during your stay in the now more familiar habitat. I’ll be honest: I’ve found it a tad more difficult for two reasons, the first being that there is so much to discover in such an eventful, bustling place like Bristol. The second (and perhaps most significant) reason is that I’ve spent the majority of the last year indoors, whether it be squirming on a mattress suffering from week-long alcohol poisoning, or visiting the girls’ flat for entire days on end, undergoing multiple caffeine overdoses, skimming the vapid content of TV mags, and complaining that my life has become somewhat boring.

What I have seen has been great, however. Yes, there still exists the typical cons that any city in England has: swarms of semen-lined nightclubs filled with incalcitrant youths, ‘two-stepping’ to Tinie Tempah’s latest dubstep defecation, armies of unwashed old men whose vocabulary seems to solely extend to the words ‘big’ and ‘issue’, and so on. There are so many positives, though! Views of the entire city can be seen from locations such as Cabot Tower and the Clifton Suspension Bridge, both of which attract tourists from all over the world. Furthermore, aside from the aforementioned shit nightlife experiences, there are actually some really cool clubs. You just have to trek past streets strewn with kebab shops (run by Turkish men who will “take care of you”), homeless people harassing you with amphetamines whilst shouting “twenny a gram”, and the odd transgender prostitute fleeting to the hatchback of an eager customer. Side note: although they may provoke you to, by hurling insults at all your friends before shoving their arses in your face, don’t fight them (#beenthere #yolo).

The music scene is another highlight. Dot to Dot Festival is soon and everyone should go! I’ll be interviewing a few bands there for Mint Magazine. I would have some video footage to show you of a venue called The Fleece—probably one of Bristol’s best for gigs—which has hosted acts such as Amy Winehouse and The Libertines in the past, but it was lost. Besides, most of it was me asking a 60-something local why he hasn’t had sex in nine years and offering him to stay in my bed with me for the night. Moving on, there’s also loads of criminals and fire:

All in all, I think I’m quite suited to Bristol. I’ve considered leaving many times, probably because I’m not actually here for my degree, but instead I’m constantly distracted by all the pluses described in this post. But that’s fun, right? Maybe YOU should come here too.

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the kebab man called

A week ago, I mentioned in a post that I drunkenly gave my number out to the Turkish guy at the kebab shop. Big mistake. He’s taken his time, but this evening he finally called. From the moment I saw the single word ‘Withheld’ on my phone beaming at me I knew it was trouble. I was apprehensive to even answer but I did anyway for the lolz.

Surprise surprise, the love of my life—still anonymous as he didn’t give me his name this time either—on the other end of the phone. The conversation went like this (viewer discretion is advised):

Hello?
Alright babe
(barely interpretable Turkish accent)
Who’s this?
You gave me your number the other night in the centre
I’m sorry I don’t remember this
(classic phone lie)
Me and my mate are really horny. Where are you?
At home. Actually I’m quite busy at the-
Come meet me. We’ll take care of you
Sounds thrilling. I honestly don’t know who you are
My mate’s got a massive, thick cock
Nice
Come and meet us he’ll show it to you
No thanks
So why did you give us your number?
Well if I did that, I was probably drunk
So why don’t you want his massive cock tonight?
Look, just because I drunkenly gave my number to a stranger, doesn’t mean I want his throbbing girth inside me
We’ll take care of you
Nice of you to organise a gangbang just for me but I really need to go now
When can we call you again?
Whenever
Really?
No
We’ll call you tomorrow
Great

I guess I have been begging for male attention recently, but this is hardly what I expected, although it did provide me with some amusement amongst revision I really can’t face doing. Nevertheless, the thought of two (maybe more!?) greasy, hairy 30-somethings tossing each other off over dead animal meat on the other end of the line is mildly disturbing. Not sure I’ll ever be able to look at a doner in the same way again.

Search for love: complete (#fail).

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club mojo

Firstly, my article for Mint Magazine was posted today! (#proud) So much posting recently but so much going on! Onto the main subject:

The other night I ventured to Chatham, Kent, infamous for its disproportionate chav ratio and swarms of tanning salons, a favourite of mine being Tanerife. Not sure which genius came up with that name. Just to clarify, I’m not actually a fake baker, I meant my favourite to laugh at.

Anyway, aside from its reputation there is actually an alright music scene there. I was at Club Mojo watching Jose Vanders perform. I can’t actually stand more than a few minutes of her music, but my friend Poppy Wilson aka Es Muss Sein was the support act and she was releasing her EP that night so I went to watch her. The night was really good, aside from the Chatham trash who turned up and held a head-shaving event for Cancer Research upstairs. A nice thing to do, but it was more like a football match than a charity night: heaps of tracksuited males chanting as an unwilling victim was number oned all over. So much polyester.

I got a chance for a quick talk with Jose and a few others in between spending ridiculous amounts on double vodkas, hence the questions which, let’s face it, don’t really make any sense. Enjoy!

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