Not really that terrible a lie but quite funny all the same.There were six of us or so out that night in Worcester, aiming to go to The Music Room to continue our evening's drinking. Tradgically, as we approached the internal doors leading up to the club, they closed on us and we were kindly asked to go outside and queue there. The queue was massive.
The reason we picked The Music Room was because there's no dress code*. I was clad in dark blue jeans, a dicey propesition in front of any bouner round here whilst Dave was very definitely in a pair of light blue jeans, popular with many a 50 year old Status Quo fan. His shirt was on the dirty side too although to be fair, he had just travelled up from London.
Leaving O'Neils as we were, I recounted a story how in Ibiza, some English birds had gone up to Dave and asked him, very slowly where a certain hotel was. They thought he was German and were most shocked to find out otherwise.
One of our group decided that we could vary this misconception and try it on with the bouncers of a swanky club. We joined a rather long queue whilst Mike went up and explained that there were two Germans amongst us who were unaware of the dress code and were'nt properly attired. One went off to see the manager who said that we should be pointed out and would be given entry.
As we approached the bouncers, we put on some fake accents and just before we got the phrase 'sorry lads, you're not dressed proper for in here', Mike pointed out that we were the Germans.
The manager was only there to greet us personally and usher us into his club. We even had to use the phrase 'no, no, no, please speak English because it's zee only vay ve vill learn'. It was a very tense few minutes keeping up the pretence but we pulled it off and fell about laughing when we were a safe distance inside.
Other than that, I've had quite an angellic little life.
* the bars and clubs in Worcester are by and large very poncey places and everybody is dressed to kill
(The reason we picked The Music Room was because there's no dress code*. I was clad in dark blue jeans, a dicey propesition in front of any bouner round here whilst Dave was very definitely in a pair of light blue jeans, popular with many a 50 year old Status Quo fan. His shirt was on the dirty side too although to be fair, he had just travelled up from London.
Leaving O'Neils as we were, I recounted a story how in Ibiza, some English birds had gone up to Dave and asked him, very slowly where a certain hotel was. They thought he was German and were most shocked to find out otherwise.
One of our group decided that we could vary this misconception and try it on with the bouncers of a swanky club. We joined a rather long queue whilst Mike went up and explained that there were two Germans amongst us who were unaware of the dress code and were'nt properly attired. One went off to see the manager who said that we should be pointed out and would be given entry.
As we approached the bouncers, we put on some fake accents and just before we got the phrase 'sorry lads, you're not dressed proper for in here', Mike pointed out that we were the Germans.
The manager was only there to greet us personally and usher us into his club. We even had to use the phrase 'no, no, no, please speak English because it's zee only vay ve vill learn'. It was a very tense few minutes keeping up the pretence but we pulled it off and fell about laughing when we were a safe distance inside.
Other than that, I've had quite an angellic little life.
* the bars and clubs in Worcester are by and large very poncey places and everybody is dressed to kill
whelkboy is old now, you see,
Thu 27 Nov 2003, 20:27,
archived)
Club entry is a strange thing.A similar kind of story, except perhaps without the 'lie' thing. Last year I lived next door to a student from the Emirates (rich Arab chap, not quite a prince but he had a Corvette so I'm imagining his family were into oil or somesuch.) Anyway, last year he invited a friend, who also speaks good English, up to stay for a few days. He will be known as Student B. Students being students they decided to go to a club, and rich students being rich students they decided to do a few lines of coke each beforehand.
Sure enough, they get to the club. Cambridge clubs are awful but there's still the inevitable queue outside whilst the bouncers frisk people (for what? Banned research papers?) and so such. Student B is still under the influence of cocaine. Without consulting with Student A, he walks right up to the bouncers. "Excuse me," he says indignantly. "I want to get into this club. But I don't want to queue." He then proceeds to pull his wallet out and starts flipping credit cards at the poor doorman, whilst shouting stuff along the lines of "I will buy this club then! Do you want me to buy this club?" The manager then came out and, unbelieveably enough, let both of them in.
Not sure what happened to the credit cards.
(,
Fri 28 Nov 2003, 1:13,
archived)
Sure enough, they get to the club. Cambridge clubs are awful but there's still the inevitable queue outside whilst the bouncers frisk people (for what? Banned research papers?) and so such. Student B is still under the influence of cocaine. Without consulting with Student A, he walks right up to the bouncers. "Excuse me," he says indignantly. "I want to get into this club. But I don't want to queue." He then proceeds to pull his wallet out and starts flipping credit cards at the poor doorman, whilst shouting stuff along the lines of "I will buy this club then! Do you want me to buy this club?" The manager then came out and, unbelieveably enough, let both of them in.
Not sure what happened to the credit cards.