....is that under your duvet is a really bad place to hide naggans of Jack Daniels and packets of Marlboro reds. I keep forgetting that I no longer have the freedom that I had in Dublin, and that those kind of items will get me into trouble down here. It all ended quite well though, this spell in the bad books. My dad asked me for a fag after it all simmered down.
In other news, I have a new found dislike for bouncers from Cork. Last Saturday night, the production of my fake I.D was met with a smug laugh, and even more laughter when I tried to protest that indeed it was my passport and that special U.V. light thingy must be wrong! It all ended well though with me sprawled on the couch of a friend of a friend saying, ''No..no..can't move, I'll get sick'', followed by a jaunty walk home for more of the aforementioned Jack Daniels. All in all a pretty good night, but I still haven't forgiven those mean bouncers for making me miss the gig to end all gigs.
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