Our Adventures In Jason’s Old Stomping Ground

Did you know that Jason is apparently a ‘Balmain Boy’ at heart? Well this is according to him. He lived there for about six months once and now considers himself a Balmain Boy. He likes the aura of working class-meets-yuppy chic that being a Balmain Boy gives him. Let’s face it Jason, you’re a Liverpool Boy through and through. Stop trying to talk yourself up.

The point of all this is that Miss Contradiction and I decided to have a night out in Balmain on Saturday night. We quite enjoy the suburb from time to time but don’t call ourselves Balmain Girls just because we walked down Darling Street once.

So we went to the Exchange Hotel and decided to be sociable. Miss Contradiction was bumbling around in a drunken haze and crashed a buck’s party. She literally walked through the cordoned off bit and didn’t notice the sign and cordon until I pointed it out. The bucks were funny for a while but then we noticed they were making fun of us so decided to pack it in for the night.

We ended up back at the hole. It was packed. This might sound like a good thing but trust me, it wasn’t. You literally couldn’t throw a glass without hitting someone who was either psychotic, 12 years old or dressed badly. There was one particular car crash who I just couldn’t stop staring at – a blonde piece in a white mini skirt, thigh-high white stockings and some weird pink thing wrapped around her neck or head (can’t quite remember, I was drunk). For starters, without being bitchy, she didn’t have the figure for it (well no one has the figure for a fashion disaster like that, quite frankly), and secondly, even if it WAS a dare or fancy dress you still shouldn’t wear that sort of thing in polite society.

So we migrated upstairs to the erstwhile ‘real man’s room’ (RMR) for a game of pool. After having a groove to the Pointer Sisters’ “Jump (For My Love)” (I seem to remember doing some of my jazz ballet moves circa 1986) we noticed that two blokes had infiltrated the RMR. Long story short, Miss Contradiction ended up pashing someone called Mario and basically told him that he was taking her out for dinner. Poor, poor Mario. It was a tragedy when he ran off. Well, not really because I drank the rest of his drink.

The end.