Me and Camden are an unlucky combination.
I was there the night it burnt down, and last time I went I got two men arrested by accident and banned, indefinitely, for life, from the Holiday Inn. (The Camden Holiday Inn is shit anyway, so I wouldn’t actually go back if they paid me).
Me and my friends Sarah and Helen had a night out planned last night in Camden, and after waking up at 6am, falling back to sleep and not doing sod all I wanted to do with my day I was a little bit reluctant, but I knew I would have a laugh so I manned up got ready and went to Asda to buy provisions. By provisions I mean alcohol and fake moustaches. The essentials you see. Last time I went into Asda with Helen she had two dogs in her handbag, so I reckon they did alright out of us yesterday.
No matter how old I get, or how classy I aspire to be, I will ALWAYS love drinking on the train. Even if I was a millionaire I would still have a bottle of Sprite spiked with whisky on the C2C to Fenchurch street. It’s my hobby. I don’t take the piss out of people that like knitting do I?
Because we had to meet my friend Alice who was already up there waiting, the journey became very military.
”WE CANNOT STOP FOR THE TOILET THERES NO TIME. WE HAVE FIFTEEN MINUTES. FIFTEEN.”
As you can imagine the girls loved that. We got there in one piece and no one had pissed themselves. So far so good, maybe my luck with Camden is changing. The pub we went in, ‘The Elephants Head’ is one of a small handful I have never been in in Camden. I do find Camden pubs a little bit generic. If you go to ANY pub in Camden you will see the following:
- Burley bouncer who looks like he should be in Basildon Liquid
- Pierced and tattooed bartender
- Girl with short hair and Dr Martins talking about volunteering in Africa/South America
- Randomer on his own
Speaking of randomer on his own, my run of good luck had to end sometime. I don’t know what it is that makes me attract every weirdo within a 50 mile radius, but it happens everywhere I go. When I was at work the other week a nutty Canvey lady started talking to me about her 14 year old daughters belly button piercing. Great.
I come back from one of many toilet trips (I wee on average 800 times on a night out) I saw the girls what seemed in my head at the time to be ‘chatting to’ but now I’m sober was clearly ‘trying to avoid’ a very rock looking man who looked like a pirate version of Wagner from X Factor.
At this point, I really really struggled to get the bouncers name ‘George’ so you can imagine what fun I had with Cuantos. Despite my best effort, I just couldn’t get my head around it and called the pirate man ‘Cosmos’. If you think about other things beginning with ‘C’ I could of called him I think he got off light. To avoid the situation I’m about to explain, me and the girls bounced around the idea of possibly having an egg timer to time how long we talk to strangers so we can stop before they think they are in the friend zone.
Cosmos deffo thought he was in the friend zone. In actual fact, I think Cosmos wanted to come back to Basildon and get a job in one of the poundshops. According to him, he was in a band called ‘Graveyard’. He even made us google it and played a pretty good air guitar to all of their songs. He said they had just played a gig up the road. Because unfortunately, Cosmos did not want to leave us alone and started having a row with us. Not being one for confrontation (and by that I mean confrontation in places I cant headbutt the other person) we left and went to my favourite place in Camden, Inspiral. A juice bar by day, and a bar by night, they have little seats on the lock, so you can sit and freeze your tits off and admire the view of the barges.
By this point the alcohol had taken its toll, and the having to move bars because of a man called Cosmos in a band called Graveyard really did seem ten times more dramatical than it actually was. It was only when we went back to the Elephants head we realized Cosmos was probably harmless. Even though he told us he was a herion addict.
I ended my night settling down in a tent on my friend Sarah’s living room floor, which is pretty normal by my standards.
I woke up early this morning and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I thought I would do a bit of googling and find out a bit more about Cosmos and his band. Only I couldn’t. Because he wasn’t even fucking in Graveyard. not in the slightest. And they were not even in the UK. And no one called Cuantos has ever played or worked for them. And they are from Sweden. And Cuantos is clearly not a Swedish name. Let’s hope next time I’m in Camden I manage to be a bit more selective about the total nutters I speak to.