The world turn'd upside down.

[davywavy]

People who know ukmonty won’t be in the least bit surprised to learn that he is a member of a private, members-only cocktail bar in Soho. It isn’t the sort of place which minor celebrities are pictured staggering out of at 3am without any knickers on. Of course not – it’s rather more exclusive than that. Instead, it’s the sort of place you find down a side street and behind an anonymous, unmarked door that you need a password to get through. A password! It’s my sort of place.

Inside, it’s decked out in a decadent 1920’s/30’s style, rather like the first class lounge on the Titanic would have looked if they’d decided to spend a bit more on it; wooden panelling, art-deco ornaments and plump armchairs are the order of the day. They play a jaunty selection of 20's jazz hits and the Whisky selection is pretty much a who's who of major distilleries. The staff are uniformly attractive and unobtrusive and I barely noticed as the waitress shimmied up as we sat considering the cocktail menu last night.

“What can I get you?” she asked.

I looked at the options. A Gin Sling? A Screwdriver? In the end I settled for the Alcoholics Delight, which appeared to consist of a shot of everything behind the bar in a bucket with a fried egg on top. She turned to Monty.

“And you, sir?”

Monty regarded his menu with something of a pensive air. He tapped a finger. “A Moscow Mule, please”, he said, thoughtfully.

“Certainly, sir. Will that be strong, or low alcohol?”
I gave a loud guffaw. Low alcohol? Plainly this woman did not know Monty.

“Ah...the low alcohol, please.”

My head shot round like it was on a spring. Had I heard aright? “What?", I said. “Are you quite serious?"

He nodded, rather more firmly this time. “Low alcohol”, he confirmed.

The waitress sashayed away and I opened and closed my mouth like a confused fish. “But, Monty!” I cried. “You...it...booze...drinking...low alcohol”, I explained further.

Monty had the grace to look a little crestfallen. “I know”, he said. “But...I’ve started getting hangovers. Now I understand what you lot have been going on about all these years. And anyway,” he added, pointing ruefully at his tummy. “My liver. Size of a football, you know.“

“Tommyrot”, I said, firmly. “Your liver would need Kryptonite to stop it, and believe me that’s not the green colouring in absinthe.”

But so the evening went on. As I wrapped myself around a series of spectacularly inebriating drinks like the Dialysis Supreme (“We pop a funnel in your mouth and keep pouring gin in until you pass out. With a dash of sours and an olive”) and the Boozeguzzler ("We’re not telling what’s in this one, but trust us when we say drinking it will invalidate your life insurance”), Monty sipped abstemiously at small port. I felt utterly confused. “So…” I said, trying to change the subject. “What plans have you for the rest of the week?”

“Oh”, said Monty. “I’m coming back here tomorrow.”

I nodded. At least some things haven’t changed.

Comments

[gnommi.livejournal.com]

I have this feeling that I've been there with a friend who is a member. Is it frequented by publishers and all creaky floorboards and wobbly tables? Has the distinct air that Quentin Crisp might turn up imminently?

[davywavy.livejournal.com]

Good heavens, no, the only creaking and wobbling going on was from me when I tried to stand up. I suspect you're thinking of Blacks, which is a similar sort of place.

[robinbloke.livejournal.com]

It's the first sign of the apocalypse I tell you, THE FIRST SIGN!!!!

[gnommi.livejournal.com]

I do not recall the name, on the grounds of inebriation. All I remember is aspidistras, creaky floorboards, a great view from the upstairs sash window, fabulous drinks, an unreasonably cute waitress/barmaid and the need for a password at an unmarked door in a distinctly clandestine fashion!

[davywavy.livejournal.com]

It's really jolly fun, isn't it? Like being a Film star or a secret agent or something.

Incidentally, when are you in sunny London next? I seem to recall offering you booze.

[gnommi.livejournal.com]

tomorrow! I'm having a kind of leaving do type affair with co-workers and diverse reprobates at this place
http://www.jdwetherspoon.co.uk/home/pubs/the-knights-templar-near-fleet-street
between 5.30 and 8pm. after that, who knows what might happen!

therefore there is a real danger that I might still also be in town on Friday evening....

[davedevil.livejournal.com]

I fear the pankcakes were not as good as such a sight! I feel Gordon Brown at a sharp shooters convention levels of dejection for my poor choice!

[davywavy.livejournal.com]

It was very jolly.
Incidentally, the wiki site flat refuses to let me create an account. I've been trying all morning! Any ideas?

[davywavy.livejournal.com]

I'm likely not to be free this week (I bristol on friday, which does throw our the calender), but keep me posted in future.

[gnommi.livejournal.com]

d'oh! shall do!
mm Bristol. I do like Bristol.

[davedevil.livejournal.com]

will take a look now.

[davywavy.livejournal.com]

That worked. Cheers.

[davywavy.livejournal.com]

I'm now worried that I've broken it. I posted one item and now the site reports a 404 error.

[moomin-puffin.livejournal.com]

If Monty is getting hangovers there is no hope for the rest of us

[gnommi.livejournal.com]

80085!

[vulgarcriminal.livejournal.com]

I've been getting terrible hangovers lately. Unless I drink in the afternoon. So the solution is obvious.