I woke for no apparent reason, and sat upright as I tried to figure out who I was, where I was, who had shat in my mouth. I was in a bed, my bed. I was me. It was Sunday, a day before I had to vacate my flat in a pristene condition for the incoming tenants. It was Sunday, the day after my leaving London party. The door opened, Raz drank in my nudity,
“Mornin.”
“Mornin.”
“Don´t people normally knock before they enter people´s bedrooms?” I asked.
“People who have full control over their mental faculties and can think straight might do,” said Raz.
“Ah. Fair enough.”
“They´re baying for blood downstairs.”
“Okay. Are you as shocked as I am about you seeing my winkie?” I asked.
“Hmm. Not really. It just makes me feel very adequate.”
I hastily dressed, and went downstairs to be met by a sea of twiglets and bodies in what used to be my lounge. I had a flashback of a kebab explosion and vodka jelly being thrown out of the window. And a jelly shaped like a brain. After a few “Mornin.”s, Mike chirped up,
“Sorry about your toilet…”
“Er. Why?”
“Well I was drinking that Director´s Special stuff, but I couldn´t keep it down,” said Mike, without a trace of sheepishness.
“Man, didn´t you smell it first? It´s like petrol – that´s why no-ones touched it since a mad Scot left it here as a gift from Goa about 18 months ago.”
“Yeah well Nick kept his down. I just kind of sprayed it all over your bathroom.”
“Cheers. What was in that pint that Ramon got me last night that smelt of Gin?”
“Cider. Gin. I think it was amaretto. Some whisky. Some other stuff. It was Mike G´s idea,” said Ramon.
“Goddammit, I hate whisky. And it was Mike´s idea to shotgun that can of Special Brew, wasn´t it? I managed to avoid him by playing rounders for a good while. But he cornered me. Yuk.”
“The boy done good. But he had to go home shortly afterwards.”
“True, he missed out on the shopping trolley incident. That guy in the car was really insistent, wasn´t he. It wasn´t like we hit the car or anything. I mean there was a screech of tyres, but…”
“No, actually, the car did hit Ramon,” said Jimmy.
“Shit, are you alright Ramon?”
“Yeah, didn´t hurt much.”
“And I think Ramon putting his body between me in the shopping trolley and the car probably saved my life. If people will leave shopping trollies in the road, what do they expect?” said Jimmy.
“I think the wheels were wonky. That´s probably why it veered into the road so much. Jimmy?”
“Yeah?”
“What were you singing last night in the trolley?” I asked.
“We are accidents waiting to happen,” he replied.
At this point I noticed Nick asleep. A state of existence I had never entertained that Nick could be in, with the amount of filth he shovels up his nose on a daily basis.
“Bloody Hell! Nick´s asleep! How did that happen?” I said in shock.
“Maybe it was the Director´s Special,” mused Mike.
“How many of you slept in here?”
“Er. Six,” said Raz, “and it was very strange waking up with a spotlight on my face. Thinking ´what am I doing sleeping next to Ramon?´”
“A question many have pondered.”
A round of tea was produced, and the groaning started to quell, when Raz remembered his taxi mission to return a broken Carol home.
“Blimey! Remember that taxi driver that I bought to the pub?” said Raz, “He was called Kunta Kinte. I had a conversation with him for 45 minutes about him being called Kunta Kinte. I couldn´t believe it.”
“Who´s Kunta Kinte?”
“Here we go again.”
“That guy out of Roots. Grandfather of Chicken George.”
“Odd to be called Kunta Kinte.”
“That´s why I bought him into the pub. Don´t you remember? I made Jimmy buy him a drink.”
Saturday was a great day for me. My brother and sister and I were in the same place at the same time, which is extremely rare. It meant that I could shout “Nice one bruvva!” all the time after watching Human Traffic. We played rounders in a park that was far too small and far too full of people sitting around peacefully. We got to play baseball with a big bag of tomatoes. I got given a book by Mick Foley. Before it has been released. I hugged lots of people. I orchestrated some arm-wrestling. I made teetotal people go to the pub and hayfever sufferers sit in the park. A splendid way to leave London I would say.