Was in a bar (was like a reversed Lowther from the good old days, before it got done up) drinking with Monkey Dave, Blackburn and a few others.
This bloke keeps having a go at me everytime I go past him to get to the bog – his mates tell him everytime I go past, and one of them even kicks me too.
At one point he stubs a fag out on my head, and later he tries to glass me in the bogs, but Monkey Dave comes in and grabs him by the throat. We then kick the shit out of him.
I come out of the toilet and for some reason Steve James is sat with the mates of the bloke who was having a go. So I do the only acceptable thing, and grab a chair, and proceed to smash it over his head. That’ll teach him to worship satan when we were at school.
Then it all kicks off – except not in a fight, but in a school playground army way, with a space theme.
Everyone is running round pointing their mobile phones at each other and making Star Wars laser noises.
It’s absolute carnage. People are dropping like flies, and then all of a sudden I decide that to end this madness, I have to get to the posse of people in the corner, which for some reason is fronted by a bloke called John Mathews (who I work with), and backed by Big Rick (a mate of Pud’s).
I manage to sneak round the back of them, getting wounded along the way from a surprise attack by David Richardson (the surprising thing being that he has been dead for years). Managed to down him though with the classic Battlestar Galactica ‘miss twice then hit’ shooting. It’s a good job I am packing my trusty Sony Erricson.
At this point I also feel I should mention that my laser sound has changed from ‘pee-oww’ to a more understated ‘chuw chuw’.
So now I have sneaked up behind Big Rick, and I am holding my phone menacingly at his throat. I pull the trigger (or should that be press the button). ‘Chuw chuw’. As one the posse go like robots that have just been turned off, and the battle is over.
Then the pub clears and its me, Dave Bruce (strollers captain) and another bloke, discussing how its time to eat. There is some chicken on the table, but its not going to be enough. Luckily Dave has got a raw chicken in his bag. And a peeled bread roll.
‘A peeled breadroll’, I enquire, ‘Why?’
But alas I never found out why, as I woke up.