Not on TV as such but nearly the silver screen
A few years ago I was down from uni visiting a mate who was studying at LSE. After a heady night out in the East End where much beer and curry was consumed we stopped off at one of his mates halls to continue the party. The fact that he claimed to have the 'finest weed known to humankind' (debatable but it did its job) and Withnail and I on DVD made this a no brainer.

Round about 4 in the morning we decided it was time to leave. Now John's mate lived close to the Royal Courts of Justice while John's halls were down in the west end. The simplest route was to head down the Strand, cut through Trafalgar Square and then home from there.

Somehow along the way I lost everyone else. Not a problem, as even though pissed and stoned this is still my home town and I know my way around. Stumbling on I ended up wandering down a little side street into Trafalgar Square.

As I made my away across my fuzzy brain slowly came to the realisation that there were some people around me. Bit odd for that time of night, especially as it was the middle of October.

But hang on, it's not just a couple of people, there's hundreds of the fuckers!

And not only that they're all in some sort of cult. No joke, they were all identically dressed in black capes, pointy witches hats and had these horrific white masks completely covering their faces!

I was now seriously freaking out but desperately trying to stay inconspicuous lest they spot me and then ritually disembowel me in front of Nelson's Column in some weird phallic fertility ritual.

But it was all to no avail. As if on some psychic signal the whole lot of the fuckers suddenly starts running straight fucking at me!

Needless to say subtlety be damned. I bloody legged it. Straight out the square, round the corner of the National Gallery, flat out for about 10 minutes. I ended up hiding behind a skip, felt like I was about to have a heart attack. I had to have about 4 cigarettes in a row until I was calm enough to move.

Somehow I stumbled back to John's place and crashed out on the sofa. The next morning I wasn't sure if I'd dreamt it or not. There was nothing on the news about some invasion by a devil-worshipping cult tearing up Soho. It was a total mystery.




Then 12 months later V for Vendetta came out, things made a lot more sense and I felt a complete plonker.
(Milo Minderbinder, Fri 12 Jun 2009, 10:12, 1 reply)

that's a great story

( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Fri 12 Jun 2009, 11:58, closed)