Marco Jacksonovic

Crazy What You Could've Had
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2004-07-22 16:18:49 (UTC)

Edinburgh. Friday. The 'No...Really...' Entry.

Yes, you'd be right to think Friday night involved the
visiting of pubs and the drinking of beer, prequelled by
reuniting with the shattered vodka bottle of two nights
ago, and discussion on the nature of dehydration - of
melon, not people. So, I'll lead you through from there
pub to pub, and a big shout out to all of them, for they
were all great.

Scott's Bar.
We only went to this because Didi was adamant we ought to
go to The Bad Ass across the way, but there were no tables
outside, so we went as close as we could. Obviously, with
such a pub close by, there were lots of Bad Ass gags, and
less obviously was a kid, identical to another kid (though
not twins, one was, like 6/7 inches taller) playing with a
rubber serpent. It was at Scott's that I realised we were
in Edinburgh on a Friday night, and that that might
explain why it was so busy there. I convinced Didi, too,
that the main pub street would be better to go to after
11, so we could head off that road to the back streets.

The Jekyll And Hyde.
We were initially drawn to this pub because it was as far
as either of us could bear to walk and it felt like there
were no pubs further on. As we went in, Beat It by Michael
Jackson started, which is always good. The beer was cold,
and good, and...most importantly, the decor was
appropriate - this made it no less worrying. It was dark
and eerie, and you couldn't see a thing, but it felt
right. It wasn't as far as I would think of it as a theme
bar, but it was designed for darkness. A lot of thse
places are filled with goths, but this wasn't. It was, as
I say, a good thing.

Bar 3. (I forget its name).
This was another bar brought on by desperation on our
journey back up to Princes St, and were both desperate for
the gents. We sort of ran into this bar with a girl in an
unfeasibly short skirt on the steps (That wasn't why, in
fact I wouldn't have noticed her had we not almost knocked
her flying) and flew to the gents, downstairs. Didi was
made a little less healthy by the ale/lager combination,
which can affect anyone, and as we supped, he was still
happy to drink on. He's not the sharpest tool in the shed,
Didi, in fact sometimes he can't even figure out how to
get into the shed. This was one of those times.
He failed to notice anything odd, I ascertained after
asking him to take note on our second visit to the gents
together just before we left. There were three key signs
to me...
a) The bar was full of only men - and the ridiculously
dressed girl I mentioned.
b) There was nary an eyelid batted when we ran in and
straight down to the toilets together.
c) Madonna's Greatest Videos and remixes were playing on
the screen.
The first two say more than the last, but I was left in
no doubts. Very, very nice bar though. If I could just
remember its name.

WIW? England v. West Indies.


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