Miracle boys Dan & Andy are cruelly separated this month as conflicting duties placed them on opposite ends of the earth, Andy in London and Dan in Singapore. All is not lost, though, as both drowned their loneliness in booze-soaked mayhem. We give you Andy’s UK report, as Dan can’t remember a damn thing.
Andy’s Big London Adventure
The time had come for me to leave Thailand’s sunny shores and serve my two-week annual jail sentence on the rock. Britain that is, not Alcatraz. Not time I’d like to spend without the comfort of hard liquor, so I naturally called my wealthiest friend, who would have the privilege of paying for a night out in London with yours truly.
Gordon Ramsay, Claridges
We decided to start the night in true style with a visit to a triple Michelin-starred eatery run by celebrity chef and all round asshole-of-the-moment, Gordon Ramsay. A truly flawless meal with super-oily French waiters who slithered around the room leaving a trail of smarm behind them. A nice change though, to swap fried rice and Saeng Som for foi gras pate and red wine; much more fitting for a man of my calibre than having to teach Dan how to use cutlery at a Bangkok street side. After aperitifs, wine, port and brandy my surroundings seemed to dull whilst I became yet more alluring to women.
The Light Bar
Another flash, stylo-phile venue in the west end but more minimalist than classic this time. Very sexy waitresses from every corner of the globe, good funky music and the privilege of paying 18 pounds (I kid you not) for two drinks. I satisfyingly marred the “I’m richer, better looking and more sophisticated than you” atmosphere by squirting off a truly horrendous, mustard gas-style fart a la Gordon Ramsay that had fellow patrons reeling and me thinking, “How do you like the taste of foi gras now, dickhead?”
Notting Hill
Having set more money alight at the Light Bar and disgraced myself sufficiently, we staggered into a taxi and headed for Notting Hill, to a bar near my companion’s home. Not wanting to appear too stingy, I foolishly paid for the taxi (all 17 pounds of it), and resolved to pay for nothing else that night. By this point, I was too drunk to note the bar’s name; all I remember is that it was full of Americans. Apparently, since the movie Notting Hill this area has been flooded with Yanks trying to emulate Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts. Disgraceful.
Secrets, Hammersmith
This was more like it. After getting in for the bargain price of 15 pounds each, we were shown to a table where we had a ringside view of a girl gyrating round a pole. Nothing new to a Bangkok denizen, so I quickly got bored, until two Bulgarian beauties, Olivia and Nina, smelt my hormones and joined us. We were promptly treated to a fully naked lap dance for all of two minutes at the price of 30 pounds each. That’s about 25p a second. Luckily my friend had brought his Amex card as we had two dances each and a bar bill of 75 five pounds. The finale of the night was truly nostalgic, going home alone, drinking beer, watching movies, and falling asleep on my mate’s sofa.