The Phantom Shitpipe

Danny was accusing me the other day of writing boring Blogs. In his description they were all about 'trenches' and not much else. Well since I've been out of work since November, I haven't mentioned trenches since at least then, have I? Anyway Danny claimed that he scans the entries to find his name and doesn't bother reading the rest. With this in mind I'm going to mention Danny all the way through this entry. I was out with Danny on Thursday evening, which is where the afore mentioned conversation took place. I was actually out with Danny, Barber, Bennett, Dean and a previously unknown to me Richard. It was Barber's birthday so we were out to celebrate in fine style. It was during this raucous party atmosphere that Dean told me of the Blog he is writing about the musings during Bennett's daily routine as an unemployed dilettante. Read it HERE, it is updated daily so I suggest you keep coming back and reading it. I told Dean I would link to it to get it more readers in order to wind Bennett up even more, so go for your life kids! After a few drinks in The Bluecoat, we all fell upon Renoirs, which was open for the first time on a Thursday that night. It was student night and being lap-dancing club the dances were cheap. It was decided that we would get Barber a birthday dance. So, Danny, Dean, Richard and I all put money in. In the end we paid about £40 for a single dance from one girl when I was told later by one of the other girls that we could have had two girls dance for him for £20. Bah, that's what being stupidly drunk does for you.

'Hang on, how much are we paying for this?'

Anyhow, I declined any further dances for myself. I'm not really into lap-dancing clubs and only went along as the others were going. This just sounds like a lame excuse, but I promise you it's not. I find it too exploitative on both sides to be paying money to watch a girl gyrate. It's not as though you can do anything anyway, except just sit there and watch. I find that incredibly frustrating. I ended just chatting to the girls, finding out about them. I was chatting to Donna, who's dancing name was Dee (incredibly imaginative...), she was a law student at Sheffield University and in her third year. I was quite content to chat to her about university life, but told her 'I don't want a dance off you, I'm not interested. I'll quite happily sit her and talk bullshit to you all night, but you won't have a penny off me. Since you're working, you'd be better off trying someone else in here.' Which she promptly did. I left Danny and Bennett alone in there and went home after a quick visit to Chilli's for a Chicken Burger. Om nom nom.

'Which particular slice of 'instant heart attack' does your chef recommend?'

Friday lunch was spent in the company of Ninjasaurus Rex and a very disappointing halloumi wrap on his part and I spent last night drunkenly shouting at The Phantom Menace with Dave. We'd both watched separate reviews on tinterwebz about the worst film in the history of man and wanted to see if it matched up with the reviews. You can experience it as well by checking out these links:

Phantom Menace Review 1

Phantom Menace Review 2

Danny.