You Can't Escape Tim's Biology

In my last blog post, I said I would not indulge anyone in the drunken tom-foolery that my companions and I generally partake in, mainly because no one would find it entertaining other than the few people I have any form of interaction with.

Well, a recent development has created some absolute comedy gold.

Before I begin, I'll put out a disclaimer: Sian and Anna, given your phobia . . . you might be in for a bumpy ride . . .

T'was a few months ago when I mentioned the 'hot Corp twins' (I've even hyperlinked that to the reference; check me and my bad self!) On Friday eve, whilst I am nonchalantly ambling up Division Street to the Green Room (where everyone else was already merry-making) I was about to enter when said 'hot Corp twins' exited.  Now, one of them has an incredibly hard-looking boyfriend, and the other ALWAYS stares at me.  This brief encounter was no different; she was crossing the road and yet kept turning around to look at me . . . t'is a bit intimidating in all honesty.

Casting this to the back of my mind, I pushed through the Green Room crowd towards where everyone was (even though it was packed, it's never a challenge to spot Tim from a fair distance, given his height) and so we all convened and the insults began.  

Standard.

And so, we went to Corporation.  The night was flying by without much a snag.  and whilst me and Adam were having our own little side story in the smoking area involving the telling of some truly appalling jokes to someone called Charlotte (mine were better . . . or worse, whichever the case may be) and Gareth was with his new found friend, it seems all was not well with Tim and Syd.  

On mine and Adam's return, Tim regailed us with a story of how he was not feeling all too good, and said as much to Syd.  Syd, showing her compassionate and caring side, slugged Tim in the stomach.

To quote Lyla-Mae, "oderrrrrr"

At this point, Tim informed us that even though he tried to stop the outpouring of biological matter from his mouth by placing a hand over it, all he had in fact succeeded in doing is making his projectile range greater (like when you put your thumb over a hose-pipe) and fountained vomit over "around twenty people". Whilst most got away with little splatterings, one girl in particular got absolutely covered.

Can you see where this is going?

What should crop up in my facebook newsfeeds, other than this?

That's right folks!  My good friend vomited upon one of the hot Corp twins!  Perhaps both, as I imagine his vision was somewhat impaired . . . and they are identical.

Gripped, are you not, by the cliff-hanger I created there?  Well, t'is at this point where he have two different accounts of what ensued.

The hot Corp twins' friends account (and typing that is a plural-based nightmare which I assume I've made a mistake somewhere)

Interesting . . .

Tim's account

After his bile explosion, Tim went to the toilets to clean himself up, and was followed by a group of the victim's friends who - and I quote Tim - 'were all "you what you what?"'.  At the time, Tim was leaning over the urinal, and others in the toilets were saying that "he was only sick and it happens to everyone".  Still they persisted, and then Tim stood upright, unfolding his 6 foot 5 inch frame . . . and t'was at this moment that the chaps backed down, washed little flecks of vomit off of themselves, and skulked off.

I know which version of events I believe, and t'is the latter.


In other news, what a contrast in weather we've had!  Last week I was out in the sun with Anna at Devonshire Green plotting our next project together - we've settled on it being about a mischevious mermaid.  With me actually encountering sunlight (it's not something we see much of in Derby) I dug out my denim shorts, and check this out, because I am actually impressed!



Me in June 2011, notice the lack of belt . . . but please turn a blind eye to the pink shoe-laces.

Same shorts, tried them on the other day . . .

Err, sorry about the amount of undercrackers on display >.<

But c'mon, that's fairly impressive!

However, I am now presented with a dilemma; there is just something not right about paying £16 for a pair of shorts, so now I am toying between the idea of which will be a better investment.

[A] £16 worth of shorts which I will never need to wear in Derby,

or

[B] £16 worth of custard creams so I can fit back into my current pair of shorts.

. . . I think we all know the asnwer to that.

Just to highlight how I will never need shorts, I woke up this morning to find snow outside . . . snow, in April.  It's a good job that homeless chap who resided on my street moved up the social scale and found somewhere better to live.  Derby is always cold and glum, and snow just made the entire city look that little bit more Soviet.  Additionally, there are some weird people here; just ask Melissa - the two of us were walking through the city centre to my house on an average day (which, in Derby, means bloody Baltic) where we saw a gentleman stood shouting "F%*KING COLD!!!" at the heavens whilst he slammed his bike up and down in a fit of weather-rage.

Needless to say, we exchanged a quick glance and walked passed him, eyes focussed on the floor.

Still, I do have one good thing to say about Derby as a place, and I've created it in the form of a postcard.