Another Duckie Triumph

I don’t know what it is about Duckie www.duckie.co.uk Perhaps they pump some kind of laughing gas through the air conditioning, but that can’t be the case because the venue is so dilapidated they certainly don’t have anything as sophisticated as air-con. Maybe it just the combination of beer, bizarre cabaret, eclectic music and uncontrolled dancing that makes the nights there such fun.

Last night I went with Flattie, Fox and Cosgrove. We met for a warm up drink at the Railway. Fox and Cosgrove had been shopping that afternoon and had interspersed the spending of wages on appareil with the spending of wages on booze. They were in high spirits and as soon as Fox walked into the pub he demanded to know where the fairly burly guy sitting on the table next to ours had got his shirt, because he had brought the same one that day. He then demanded to know how much the guy had paid for it and I could see a fight brewing. However the moment passed and the burly crew stayed put and we complimented Fox on his current choice of shirt.( Green with a pirate on the front and “Pirates Arrrrr Cool”) It would seem that the pair of them had cleared out the stock at Urban Outfitters and there had been a bit of a squabble over a military coat at Reiss. Fox has it and Cosgrove is jealous.

We left the pub at 10.15 and got a cab to Duckie as it was freezing and we wanted to beat the queue.It was already busy when we got there, and I spotted the burly crew from the table next to us. Flattie had been correct, he had said that they were just a bunch of burly gays, as opposed to burly guys. Fox of course decided he would make the one who had his shirt the target for the night. Beered up we walked over to where they were standing and I bumped into Tom, who was there with a group of his friends including the new boyfriend, who is just as Tom described him, small and blond. I asked Tom what Small and Blond was called:
T: His name is Mark
M: Oh that’s easy for me to remember
T: No, wait you are called Mark, he’s called....er...Anthony. No, no I keep calling him Anthony but thats not his name, it’s er....Alan, yes Alan. God, how m I going to remember his name?
M: I shall think of him as a small and useful thing like an Allen key and then I will remember. Who else are you here with?
T: (indicates a couple of people, one of whom is talking to Fox and has slept with someone I know very well.)
M: I know him he’s slept with three of my friends.
T: (Laughs and turns to boy who I think is called Tim) Mark says you’ve (I grab Tom’s arm and pinch very hard. It doesn’t work) slept with three of his friends.
(Tim scowls and stomps off)
T: Oh, that didn’t go down very well.
(Fox walks over)
F: I think I’ve just met my new boyfriend. It’s that guy Tim.
M: Some how Fox I don’t think it’s going to work out. Sorry.

Then it was time for the show. It was Nathan, the guy does a Smiths Tribute Show with a ventriloquist ‘s dummy. This time he was presenting “A History Of Homosexuality from Wilde to Will with slideshow and pyrotechnics” Nathan and I have flirted a bit in the past. He used to have very long hair and he has very nice arms. I can’t really remember much of his spiel but it culminated with him saying how he had been seduced by Travis’ Calvin Klein ad and in protest he was going to strip off and burn his own Calvins. He warned us that he had a tiny penis and hoped we wouldn’t be too disappointed. The place was freezing and to strip naked was a brave thing to do, but Cosgrove and Fox were disappointed in spite of the warning, they like their strippers to be better endowed. He whipped off his Calvins and squirted lighter fuel on them and torched them. We all cheered and clapped and then got on with some proper dancing.

Flattie’s mate Guestie arrived and we drank more beers and larked around. A tall guy in a green t shirt caught my eye and we did the smiling across the room thing. I think our dancing to Grace Jones La Vie En Rose might have put him off, because when we finished I saw him having an apparently intimate conversation with a beardy man. Then they played Filthy Gorgeous and I forgot all about him. Next thing I know he’s dancing next to me and so we start chatting. He is called Stephen and is from Northern Ireland. (Not my favourite accent in the world). He asks what I do and when I tell him, he says one of his friends used to be a model. I just know what’s coming. His friend is going to be one model who despises me. I don’t what it was but we seemed to really rub each other the wrong way. I say “It’s not P is it?”
S: Yes. Wow. You know him?
M: How good a friend is he?
S: We’re pretty good mates. I know him and David (Fox’s ex, let’s not talk about it)
At this point I realise the karma police have been lurking around and as revenge for my earlier comments about Tim I am now having to pay. We exchanged numbers and I said if he wanted to go for a drink after he’d spoken to P he could give me a call.

The guy that lipsynchs to Kate Bush got up on stage and gave us his best Running Up That Hill. One non regular tried to join in and had to be dragged off. He shares the stage with no one when he is channelling Kate.

Then it was time for The Readers Wives Favourite Song Of All Time. (It changes every week and I can’t remember which one it was.) then off home.

When I woke up this morning I had a text from Cosgrove. “I seem to be in a strange mans bed. How did that happen?”
I sent one back asking who he ended up with. The reply made me laugh out loud:
“Well I think you might know him-I’ll give you a clue, he’s now slept with 4 people you know.”