Filter Tips and Alastair
Mar. 13th, 2006 11:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
davywavyIt was ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ukmonty's birthday bash a week or two ago. By a miracle of bad timing it was also on the first day of my giving up booze, which got me off to a really bad start in abstinence terms. As he and I sat back in a rather nice little place just off Covent Garden, he mentioned to me that he was also thinking of cutting down the booze for the forseeable.
"Well", I said. "Pull the other one, old man, for it has bells upon it."
He waved his tumbler of Madiera at me for empahasis. "No", he slurred. "Seriously. My man on Harley Street..."
"Harley Street!?" I squarked. "The public sector isn't exactly tight-fisted with you, is it?"
Monty leaned in and tapped his nose in a confidential manner. "Travelcardsh" He said. "That's the shecret. I'm on commishishion."
I accepted this piece of information with weary resignation. "So, what did this quack have to say?"
"Quack? Quack? I'll have you know that my man on Harley Shtreet is one of the besht men in livers. Hish patient lisht is a who's who. George Best. Richard Burton. Oliver Reed. Bon Scott. Dylan Thomas. All the best people go to him."
"All right. What did your doctor have to say?"
"He just suggested that I do something else with my time, other than - hic- indulging myself. Just for a while, you understand."
I knitted my brow. "What will you do with your time?"
"That's the thing, ishn't it? Normally the evenings just fly by. Without a tot or two...I'll be at my witsh end! Shtill. I'm not a 'galss is half empty' person."
I nodded. "You can say that again", I said, indicating the tumbler which had been full moments before.
"Gosh, you're right. Your round, isn't it? Barman!"
"Ah." I said, carefully. "I seem to have...um...left my wallet in...ah...my other jacket."
"Not to worry", Monty cheerfully retorted, pulling a wad of banknotes from his pocket.
"Where on earth did you get those?"
"Ticket maschines, old boy. Every senior manager at London Underground gets a key, you know. Perk of the job. Like your own private cashpoint."
"Well, er, thanks."
"Don't thank me, thank the takshpayer."
So with that in mind, the question hangs - what should Monty do with his evenings now he won't be seeing them with an amber tinge? He needs a hobby and this is where you come in. He's issued a solemn undertaking* to abide by this LJ poll.
[Poll #690060]
* This statement is a lie.
ukmonty's birthday bash a week or two ago. By a miracle of bad timing it was also on the first day of my giving up booze, which got me off to a really bad start in abstinence terms. As he and I sat back in a rather nice little place just off Covent Garden, he mentioned to me that he was also thinking of cutting down the booze for the forseeable. "Well", I said. "Pull the other one, old man, for it has bells upon it."
He waved his tumbler of Madiera at me for empahasis. "No", he slurred. "Seriously. My man on Harley Street..."
"Harley Street!?" I squarked. "The public sector isn't exactly tight-fisted with you, is it?"
Monty leaned in and tapped his nose in a confidential manner. "Travelcardsh" He said. "That's the shecret. I'm on commishishion."
I accepted this piece of information with weary resignation. "So, what did this quack have to say?"
"Quack? Quack? I'll have you know that my man on Harley Shtreet is one of the besht men in livers. Hish patient lisht is a who's who. George Best. Richard Burton. Oliver Reed. Bon Scott. Dylan Thomas. All the best people go to him."
"All right. What did your doctor have to say?"
"He just suggested that I do something else with my time, other than - hic- indulging myself. Just for a while, you understand."
I knitted my brow. "What will you do with your time?"
"That's the thing, ishn't it? Normally the evenings just fly by. Without a tot or two...I'll be at my witsh end! Shtill. I'm not a 'galss is half empty' person."
I nodded. "You can say that again", I said, indicating the tumbler which had been full moments before.
"Gosh, you're right. Your round, isn't it? Barman!"
"Ah." I said, carefully. "I seem to have...um...left my wallet in...ah...my other jacket."
"Not to worry", Monty cheerfully retorted, pulling a wad of banknotes from his pocket.
"Where on earth did you get those?"
"Ticket maschines, old boy. Every senior manager at London Underground gets a key, you know. Perk of the job. Like your own private cashpoint."
"Well, er, thanks."
"Don't thank me, thank the takshpayer."
So with that in mind, the question hangs - what should Monty do with his evenings now he won't be seeing them with an amber tinge? He needs a hobby and this is where you come in. He's issued a solemn undertaking* to abide by this LJ poll.
[Poll #690060]
* This statement is a lie.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-03-13 12:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-13 12:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-13 12:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-13 12:18 pm (UTC)I mean, saying that Marc has to stand on a box isn't kind.
*this statement is a lie......
Date: 2006-03-13 01:18 pm (UTC)1. When I wondered into the vacinity of Gordons you were seen lotering (as only you can loiter) and seemed to be pan handelling honest commuters for loose change - "spare a twenty for a bottle of Krug mister" etc etc.
2. When we had finally got you stop annoying our fellow citizens I went and bought a bottle of rather good wine from the bar whilst you sat outside and whinged about it being cold.
3. OK, I'll give you the wallet thing but do take some offence at suggestions of any larceny on my part. Who do think I am, a Tory MP or a director of a publicly listed compamy with access to my employees pension fund?
4. The only time you are ever getting a roll of banknotes off me is to prize them from my still warm grasp.
5. How is lent going?
6. Stevenage
I think that covers it.
Pip pip
Monty
Re: *this statement is a lie......
Date: 2006-03-13 01:22 pm (UTC)4. The only time you are ever getting a roll of banknotes off me is to prize them from my still warm grasp.
Sounds fair to me.
5. How is lent going?
Well, thanks. I could actually smell the beer from some's can at teh other end of the train carriage last night. I must be getting withdrawal symptoms.
6. Stevenage
Bah.
no subject
Date: 2006-03-13 01:22 pm (UTC)Re: *this statement is a lie......
Date: 2006-03-13 01:24 pm (UTC)You should travel in a better standard of carriage, I never have to suffer the smell of empty beer cans.
Re: *this statement is a lie......
Date: 2006-03-13 01:26 pm (UTC)And I know you get a better class of carriage than we proles; sadly they won't let me into the pullman car of the Monty express.
no subject
Date: 2006-03-13 01:53 pm (UTC)Numbers 9 and 10 are essentially synonyms, after all...
no subject
Date: 2006-03-13 01:57 pm (UTC)Re: *this statement is a lie......
Date: 2006-03-13 01:59 pm (UTC)Bah.
eh?
no subject
Date: 2006-03-13 02:07 pm (UTC)Re: *this statement is a lie......
Date: 2006-03-13 02:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-13 02:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-13 02:10 pm (UTC)Re: *this statement is a lie......
Date: 2006-03-13 02:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-13 02:14 pm (UTC)Naked Marc
Date: 2006-03-13 02:15 pm (UTC)Re: Naked Marc
Date: 2006-03-13 02:17 pm (UTC)Re: Naked Marc
Date: 2006-03-13 02:18 pm (UTC)Re: *this statement is a lie......
Date: 2006-03-13 02:20 pm (UTC)Frankly, though, I'm stunned you have any memories of the evening.
Re: Naked Marc
Date: 2006-03-13 02:25 pm (UTC)Re: *this statement is a lie......
Date: 2006-03-13 02:28 pm (UTC)Marc Naked
Date: 2006-03-13 02:30 pm (UTC)