The joys of having unemployed mates
EDIT: this presumes that being a student counts as 'employed'

While I've never been unemployed myself (for long), when I was in my first year of university I might as well have been *looks back in longing to pre-dissertation days*. In my first few months I had pretty much fuck all to do so spent my time getting off my tits with a group of people I'd met over the internet. Several of them were unemployed, and there were some I doubt would ever be offered a job by a sane employer.

After we'd done the compulsory Manc pub-crawls and what usually comes with them (wanton sex, drugs and infidelity) we decided to go a bit more high-brow and have a nice walk *cough- magic mushroom hunt* in the Peak District. With a few bottles of Sainsbury's own whisky.

Sometime before that I'd got to know a particular male member of that group (well, not THAT sort of member) and we seemed to hit it off, so I was hoping to impress him with my fitness and hop up Jacob's Ladder like a lithe little mountain goat. Alas, student stupor set in and I found myself gasping at the end while he, amazingly, zoomed up the steep hillside with gusto. Turns out that in his last few months of unemployment, he'd been spending most of his time playing Kung Foo on his EyeToy, resulting in amazing fitness. Well then, I thought, I know what can help me out now (remembering how my stamina increased to the point where I was dancing for 20 hours solid at Glastonbury) and helped myself to some of the contents of our bags. And then I ran, literally ran, up the impenetrable cliff face, to the awed gasps of all nearby hillwalkers.

After this my memory becomes a bit skewed, although there was some surviving footage on someone's digital camera that to this day I find highly embarrassing.

Anyway, what I do remember is him offering me a bottle of whisky once I'd caught up, to which I promptly necked about half the bottle. The next few hours consisted of me probably revealing a bit too much about my sex life, and (I was later told) slurring about how I knew to behave myself whilst drunk. My camera also has considerable dents and scrapes from that day. After the point where I could barely hold down half my lunch the thought swam into my fuzzy head that by now I'd probably ruined any chances I had with this particular fellow (I'll call him Steven from now on), and by drunken logic came to the conclusion that the only chance of salvation was to bring him down with me.

I handed him the remaining half-bottle of whisky and planned to goad him into drinking it, but I had forgotten he was unemployed so already no doubt half way to alcoholism, and it didn't take much encouragement for him to follow suit and neck it (along with one of the more respectable members of the group's brandy). This is where the old memory gutters like a dying candle. Snapshot images in my mind consist of tipping my head back to laugh, and continuing to tip backwards until I was on my ass in some sheep shit, and me and Steven literally rolling down the hill (which must be true considering the bruises). Eventually even the other reprobates got fed up with us and left us on our own, drunk, up a hill riddled with potholes while it grew increasingly dark. Haha, cheers guys- you loveable scamps.

While Steven crowed about how fuckin beauuutiful the setting sun was, through my inebriated haze I began to get worried so staggered up to a straggling walker- a grizzled Yorkshireman- and, pretending not to be drunk (no doubt the scariest of my personas) asked him how to get off the mountain. He looked incredibly unimpressed (at this point Steven chooses to appear over the brow of the hill, singing loudly and falling into a pothole) and grunted something, which I took for a "follow me". Poor guy.

Once we reached the town the others had settled themselves nicely in the pub and I chugged down the carbonated water they'd so thoughtfully bought for me. Even after the meal I felt no more sober and began to wonder if it wasn't a double vodka and lemonade, but as me and Steven were comfortably settled next to each other I didn't give it a second thought. At one point, though, we looked around the table and realised we were alone. The others had gone to get the train back! how dare they. And the silly sausages had left all their bags and coats sitting about. We helpfully gathered up everything and heaved it to the train station, but it had already gone because no-one was on the platform. Not to worry- another train back to Manc was due soon and I could stay at his as it was a bit late to be heading all the way home to Leeds. The prospect of this, of course, was more than enough to dispel any lingering concerns about the others and we happily hopped on the train with all their bags, laughing about how silly they'd feel tomorrow.

15 minutes later the panicked phonecalls started coming through- turns out the others had just popped out for a fag (and give us a bit of space) and returned to find they'd been robbed.
(I'm not here was here on, Sat 4 Apr 2009, 11:47, 4 replies)

oh my!
Sounds like you had a Homer's Night Out:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=CljldVFRk6o
(The Incredible Sulk Finally remembered his password on, Sat 4 Apr 2009, 12:36, closed)

Hahaha!
Indeed.
(I'm not here was here on, Sat 4 Apr 2009, 13:02, closed)

oh -
- and welcome to b3ta! A good start there.
(The Incredible Sulk Finally remembered his password on, Sun 5 Apr 2009, 14:41, closed)

Aw, thanks!
:)
(I'm not here was here on, Sun 5 Apr 2009, 16:43, closed)