Cigarettes and Alcohol: Confessions of a Stag Weekend by Phil Sloan Read Free Book Online Page B

the manager of the club while standing at the bar. He has given the guy a healthy dose of bullshit and told him that back home he is a top London DJ playing at all the big clubs. He would gladly spin some tunes in this establishment for the next hour for a couple of free beers.
    The manager is well chuffed and leads Kid L up to the DJ booth that overlooks the ice rink like dance floor. Kid L is in his element. He waves his arms over his head, raving it up.
    The punters in the club go mad believing that Kid L is the real deal and that some heavy duty house beats will soon be coming their way. This is going to be aural pleasure for all, live and direct from London town.
    Unfortunately there is a major fly in the ointment. Kid L is higher than the sun after sticking half of Bolivia’s finest export up his nasal cavities. His coke-fuelled enthusiasm for DJ’ing is let down badly by his sad lack of experience. He has never actually DJ’ed in his entire life but to his credit he tries valiantly to get by.
    As the track is still playing from the regular DJ’s set Kid L goes through the stack of vinyl and selects the next disco biscuit to be played. He takes the record from the sleeve, places it on the deck and sticks the headphones on his bonce. He looks like he knows what he is meant to be doing. He may even pull this stunt off.
    On the dance floor the ravers are right raving and Kid L chucks his arms aloft soaking in the adoration of the crowd of party goers. He starts fiddling about with all the buttons on the massive DJ console convinced that his Charlie-induced confidence is enough to see him through.
    The tune is now coming to the end so it’s time to mix one song into the next in a flawless superstar DJ kind of way. Kid L starts looking desperate. Even though his pupils are the size of pinpricks you can see the utter terror in them. His arms get thrown up in the air yet again hoping this will make everything alright.
    Suddenly the record stops, the club becomes as silent as the grave. You could hear a squirrel fart, if they let squirrels in this gaff. Kid L is frantically pushing buttons and tugging on levers but nothing is happening. With a huge blast of feedback Kid L picks up the needle off the record and plonks it back down at the start of the hard core tune once again. Sorted!
    Arms reach for the sky, his mug has a huge grin over it but the game is up. I look over at the manager who is shaking his head and mouthing something in Dutch. I’m not too sure of the exact translation of the phrase ‘Oh for fucks sake’ but I’m sure that was what the fella was saying as he put his head in his hands.
    Kid L gets escorted from the DJ booth ending his very brief career as a house DJ. He is still posing and flapping about like a nut job as the ching makes him feel unbeatable. The bouncers come over and ask us all to leave. We are no longer welcome in the club so it’s time to beat a hasty retreat.
    We all troop back up to the entrance where we now have to pay for all the liquids that we have consumed.
    There are fourteen of us, so they are expecting fourteen cards with stamps on them. Unsurprisingly there’s a disaster as between us we can only find thirteen of the soppy cards. One of the bouncers starts hassling Kid B who seems to be the one who has lost his card and the pair of them are having words.
    Kid B in his inebriated brain is convinced he has already paid his drinks bill, the bouncer knows that he hasn’t. The volume of the argument is going up. Harsh words are said and things are looking likely to go bandy very quickly.
    I have a chat with the bloke at the till collecting the dough. Apologising that we’ve lost a card, I offer to pay for all eight drinks that could have been on it, to get us all out of there with all limbs intact.
    He agrees so I pay up and everyone is happy. Apart from Kid B who is still shouting and cursing his head off at a very displeased looking bouncer who has now called the