This Monday will be known as 'Psychic Food Day'
Everyone was hungry and ate well, especially the weary Reading festival contingent. Enhanced powers of foresight were conferred upon the gluttonous. This extended to accurate predictions of next Monday through the door.
Following the foody theme, jam was brought by a new Monday. It was damsen-based and motherly.
A bet was made concerning the next monarch of England. Doggy B wins if it's anyone other than Cheeky Charlie.
Someone (Shep?) got bitten on the nipple by a rabbit and discussed this at length with graphic demonstrations. "At least you got that off your chest", said witty Jake.
Sounds as if Monday the 6th will be a big one!
30 August 2010
23 August 2010
News
This Monday will be known as 'Speech Day'
After a full working week in the cryptography lab at Wetherspoon's H.Q. Monday's notes have been deciphered and are presented here, for your consideration. First, a summary of the night and also what happened after the notes became completely indecipherable, then the notes themselves, followed by the memorable speeches.
At least four new faces and a toast to absent friends make it a week of change; with the first taste of Autumn in the air this feels appropriate.
KARAOKE at the KASBAH saw Falex plumb his sensitive depths as he crooned magnificently through a Bonny Tyler song. All were swooning. Mole blew the regulars away with a powerful rendition of 'All Along The Watchtower', McCrizzle posing by his side. It was even dark enough for some girls, evidently impressed by our karaoke skills, to dance with us; it got a bit hot'n'heavy on the dancefloor. Award for 'Monday's Most Desperate Girls' goes to them. In short, Karaoke at The Kasbah was a winner, but only for the true Monday.
Now for the notes, fragmented and incoherent as they are.
Spackman and Beca return triumphant from New Zealand.
His summary of trip: "Cold weather, hot lake --sweating buckets...body shots off of men...we were all sleeping with each other after ten minutes..."
Beca on Kiwi-STDs: "Not in the rainforest! It's ind-ige-nous..."
Michelle 'thankfully-not-on-facebook' Marsi: "Zider gives me zystitis."
[Different handwriting] --Ben being annoying, not happy with attendance. Spax'n'Jon swap world travel stories. Spackman being inbread [sic] spotting in NZ. News kicks in about 10:00 'Peart'. Ryan brings brings to Monday Club. There is nothing like being observant in life.
Alison regales us with tales from the North, of politics and rugby, of the soul casino scene, of true grit and administrative excellence.
SPEECHES NOW
SPAX: "All I learnt from the travels is that Monday provides good cheap beer, and friendship."
BECA: "Monday Club means to me -- a story of true acceptance, whether you are a hawk vaj, a sausage links..."
AMY: "Monday makes me lick faces."
HALL: "You are my church. Why I would walk I don't know, the bus costs a lot of money. MONDAY."
MOLE: "Folklore ordained by the gods of Monday --Men met spontaneously and had many beers, and saw that it was good."
LUKE: "My fellow true Monday Clubbers, there have been many ups but no downs. Luv luv luv & Monday."
BeNP: "I feel I need to lean...Wray & Nephew. Sambuca. Vodka. Knob Creek. Baileys. Worcester Sauce (if you are unlucky). And, of course, if Falex is involved, an arse pube. It was pretty brown, like my four weeks in Tanzania..."
DOGGY B: "Without Monday my life would not be as complete as it otherwise is."
IBM: God Bless Natwest (?)
McCRIZZLE: "This is the only way you can drink on a Monday without being considered an alcomaholic."
BUNDY: "I love Monday Club because I am a racist." (Don't worry Bundy it's not racist if you live in Purton)
BUNDY'S frenz: "45 minutes in...we love Monday Club!"
ALI: "You are all very nice."
HARDY's GIRLFRIEND constructed an equation in lieu of a speech: Savoy (members + veterans) + food x alcohol - any sense/love = Monday Club [note: by '/' I mean divided by, not 'or']
FALEX: (rapping) "Met, Reading, God rest Savlar's soul, really a Monday? Spiked Ben's with a pube and it just grew from there. Racism. Nazism. Spax sausage links. Martin and walks in Freshbrook. Experience? Arrest. Beer & a burger." (the notes don't do justice to his wit and wisdom)
HARDY (thank you Matt for giving your speech on paper):
"What Monday Club Means to Me by Matt Hardy, Aged 22.75, Straight Outta Freshbrook. Bob Geldof once said "I don't like Mondays." What a cock. Anyone that doesn't like meeting with good friends and socialising the night away deserves to be as devoid of humour as he is. Monday Club has transcended this place, this space, these physical bodies and is now a state of mind. At Monday Club you are free. Free to eat, drink and be merry. Free to take in-jokes like BeNP's racism too far and drag them out too long. And more importantly free to smell like Doggy B-iscuits. I love Mondays. It's so engrained in our minds we hardly need to say "club" anymore. It's become at least a seventh (or 14.28571%) of my life. Monday Club is far-reaching, reaching nearly every continent on the planet within the last few weeks alone. And I'd like to take this chance to raise a glass to our fellow Monday Clubbers who are strewn across the globe as we speak:
--Lee
--Guy
--Chris
--BeNP. He came back.
I'll end my talk by going back to the title of this speech, "what DOES Monday Club mean to me?" My simple answer?
It means friendship.
It means laughter.
It means a lot more than I realised before writing this.
Let us never stop, I love Monday Club."
Oinos kai aletheia
After a full working week in the cryptography lab at Wetherspoon's H.Q. Monday's notes have been deciphered and are presented here, for your consideration. First, a summary of the night and also what happened after the notes became completely indecipherable, then the notes themselves, followed by the memorable speeches.
At least four new faces and a toast to absent friends make it a week of change; with the first taste of Autumn in the air this feels appropriate.
KARAOKE at the KASBAH saw Falex plumb his sensitive depths as he crooned magnificently through a Bonny Tyler song. All were swooning. Mole blew the regulars away with a powerful rendition of 'All Along The Watchtower', McCrizzle posing by his side. It was even dark enough for some girls, evidently impressed by our karaoke skills, to dance with us; it got a bit hot'n'heavy on the dancefloor. Award for 'Monday's Most Desperate Girls' goes to them. In short, Karaoke at The Kasbah was a winner, but only for the true Monday.
Now for the notes, fragmented and incoherent as they are.
Spackman and Beca return triumphant from New Zealand.
His summary of trip: "Cold weather, hot lake --sweating buckets...body shots off of men...we were all sleeping with each other after ten minutes..."
Beca on Kiwi-STDs: "Not in the rainforest! It's ind-ige-nous..."
Michelle 'thankfully-not-on-facebook' Marsi: "Zider gives me zystitis."
[Different handwriting] --Ben being annoying, not happy with attendance. Spax'n'Jon swap world travel stories. Spackman being inbread [sic] spotting in NZ. News kicks in about 10:00 'Peart'. Ryan brings brings to Monday Club. There is nothing like being observant in life.
Alison regales us with tales from the North, of politics and rugby, of the soul casino scene, of true grit and administrative excellence.
SPEECHES NOW
SPAX: "All I learnt from the travels is that Monday provides good cheap beer, and friendship."
BECA: "Monday Club means to me -- a story of true acceptance, whether you are a hawk vaj, a sausage links..."
AMY: "Monday makes me lick faces."
HALL: "You are my church. Why I would walk I don't know, the bus costs a lot of money. MONDAY."
MOLE: "Folklore ordained by the gods of Monday --Men met spontaneously and had many beers, and saw that it was good."
LUKE: "My fellow true Monday Clubbers, there have been many ups but no downs. Luv luv luv & Monday."
BeNP: "I feel I need to lean...Wray & Nephew. Sambuca. Vodka. Knob Creek. Baileys. Worcester Sauce (if you are unlucky). And, of course, if Falex is involved, an arse pube. It was pretty brown, like my four weeks in Tanzania..."
DOGGY B: "Without Monday my life would not be as complete as it otherwise is."
IBM: God Bless Natwest (?)
McCRIZZLE: "This is the only way you can drink on a Monday without being considered an alcomaholic."
BUNDY: "I love Monday Club because I am a racist." (Don't worry Bundy it's not racist if you live in Purton)
BUNDY'S frenz: "45 minutes in...we love Monday Club!"
ALI: "You are all very nice."
HARDY's GIRLFRIEND constructed an equation in lieu of a speech: Savoy (members + veterans) + food x alcohol - any sense/love = Monday Club [note: by '/' I mean divided by, not 'or']
FALEX: (rapping) "Met, Reading, God rest Savlar's soul, really a Monday? Spiked Ben's with a pube and it just grew from there. Racism. Nazism. Spax sausage links. Martin and walks in Freshbrook. Experience? Arrest. Beer & a burger." (the notes don't do justice to his wit and wisdom)
HARDY (thank you Matt for giving your speech on paper):
"What Monday Club Means to Me by Matt Hardy, Aged 22.75, Straight Outta Freshbrook. Bob Geldof once said "I don't like Mondays." What a cock. Anyone that doesn't like meeting with good friends and socialising the night away deserves to be as devoid of humour as he is. Monday Club has transcended this place, this space, these physical bodies and is now a state of mind. At Monday Club you are free. Free to eat, drink and be merry. Free to take in-jokes like BeNP's racism too far and drag them out too long. And more importantly free to smell like Doggy B-iscuits. I love Mondays. It's so engrained in our minds we hardly need to say "club" anymore. It's become at least a seventh (or 14.28571%) of my life. Monday Club is far-reaching, reaching nearly every continent on the planet within the last few weeks alone. And I'd like to take this chance to raise a glass to our fellow Monday Clubbers who are strewn across the globe as we speak:
--Lee
--Guy
--Chris
--BeNP. He came back.
I'll end my talk by going back to the title of this speech, "what DOES Monday Club mean to me?" My simple answer?
It means friendship.
It means laughter.
It means a lot more than I realised before writing this.
Let us never stop, I love Monday Club."
Oinos kai aletheia
16 August 2010
NEWS?
OK I am just going to copy this because it deleted my prevyuz thing.
Guy's Femme-nine feline behin the bar. Bundy's new hip-hop Jungle Book, "walk like a motherfucking Egyptian". Bundy closes her ear-flaps to the disgruntled truth about Walt "a friend to all children" Disney. Ben BNP Peart Shat on top of Killimanjaro. He looked ill and we discussed trilogies. Bundy is really called Floriadh, and we respect her for it, even though she is not Irish. Reggae Reggae Cabbie. Jambalya on the bayou eh hecho en mexico. Bundy's rosy cheeks reflect her inner torment and our passion/ Cillit Bang! Lucy's Big Day! Lager, Wray & Nephews', Malibu, Morgan Spiced Rum (taste of drumsticks), Bombay Sapphire, Blue WKD...) ZEUS SAYS JUST SAY NO, the sexual revolution never happened. Pottery Lucy? Lucy "queer as" Foakes. The Foakes Process. --Head of all arty-fartyness. FOLK STATE.
Guy's Femme-nine feline behin the bar. Bundy's new hip-hop Jungle Book, "walk like a motherfucking Egyptian". Bundy closes her ear-flaps to the disgruntled truth about Walt "a friend to all children" Disney. Ben BNP Peart Shat on top of Killimanjaro. He looked ill and we discussed trilogies. Bundy is really called Floriadh, and we respect her for it, even though she is not Irish. Reggae Reggae Cabbie. Jambalya on the bayou eh hecho en mexico. Bundy's rosy cheeks reflect her inner torment and our passion/ Cillit Bang! Lucy's Big Day! Lager, Wray & Nephews', Malibu, Morgan Spiced Rum (taste of drumsticks), Bombay Sapphire, Blue WKD...) ZEUS SAYS JUST SAY NO, the sexual revolution never happened. Pottery Lucy? Lucy "queer as" Foakes. The Foakes Process. --Head of all arty-fartyness. FOLK STATE.
9 August 2010
NEWS
The simmer is building around Guy's emigration, thoughts are of a Mexican theme for next week with potential Tequila-based repercussions.
Also for next week: SECRET SANTA prep.
The 'Blue Monday' theme was suavely acknowledged. Muted clothing kept spirits smooth.
This atypical aura of sophistication was enhanced by the proliferation of BOW. Can we see, in BOWG, some grey future steadily creeping towards us?
Nathan reveals his barbarous ancestry by not adhering to the measurements specified on the GOW.
Wine soaked salivations dappled the sticky table-top as we meditated on MILF, following Bundy's diaphragm expansion technique. The conclusion was that life is made of carbon, which is a German beer (?), and that the unfilmed episodes of the Star Wars space opera are more interesting than sex. This is why Buddhists go bald.
The unspoken fantasy provoked by Martin's continental adventures was a Monday Club opera trip. As long as it is not to Evita because the Argies have it in for us.
"Don't cry for me, Mexico"
Bundy, in her role as landscape artist, lays down detailed plans for the conversion of Britain's beaches from irritating sand and salt water to luxurious grass and concrete. "Even mud is better than sand" --one of her many pearls of wisdom.
"Bundy rhymes with Munday" --less pearly wisdom.
PIMM'S O'CLOCK was triumphantly announced by Chris Ashbolt. Refreshment abounded.
Sean Haines is considered for "Monday's Whitest Man", or "Squarest Honky on The Block". Then we realised he is probably one of the least white people at Monday Club, which bodes ill for the rest of us.
Old Rosie remains the supreme drink of Monday.
There was more but, for now, the rest is silence...dirty silence.
Also for next week: SECRET SANTA prep.
The 'Blue Monday' theme was suavely acknowledged. Muted clothing kept spirits smooth.
This atypical aura of sophistication was enhanced by the proliferation of BOW. Can we see, in BOWG, some grey future steadily creeping towards us?
Nathan reveals his barbarous ancestry by not adhering to the measurements specified on the GOW.
Wine soaked salivations dappled the sticky table-top as we meditated on MILF, following Bundy's diaphragm expansion technique. The conclusion was that life is made of carbon, which is a German beer (?), and that the unfilmed episodes of the Star Wars space opera are more interesting than sex. This is why Buddhists go bald.
The unspoken fantasy provoked by Martin's continental adventures was a Monday Club opera trip. As long as it is not to Evita because the Argies have it in for us.
"Don't cry for me, Mexico"
Bundy, in her role as landscape artist, lays down detailed plans for the conversion of Britain's beaches from irritating sand and salt water to luxurious grass and concrete. "Even mud is better than sand" --one of her many pearls of wisdom.
"Bundy rhymes with Munday" --less pearly wisdom.
PIMM'S O'CLOCK was triumphantly announced by Chris Ashbolt. Refreshment abounded.
Sean Haines is considered for "Monday's Whitest Man", or "Squarest Honky on The Block". Then we realised he is probably one of the least white people at Monday Club, which bodes ill for the rest of us.
Old Rosie remains the supreme drink of Monday.
There was more but, for now, the rest is silence...dirty silence.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)