Doha November 2008.
Sensible drinking is highly recommended by governments everywhere. But they’d all be fucked without the tax from insensible drinking.
Thursday night; bizarre weekend.
It throws the lifetime of sociological habit to work Sunday to Thursday.
Tell me about the money, honey.
“Hey Swifty have you ever tried a Jägerbomb?”
Any sensible person would have moved on at this point. Yet the heat of the Doha Rugby club, coupled with a resignation of every kind, meant it was time to be stupid.
Who on earth decided it would be a great idea to load up a pint of lager with a shot of hell-fire?
Mind totally active, legs turned into squid assets.
Hello where has the bar gone?
Why can’t I stand up?
So they carried me to the aforesaid convenience; me fully compos mentis; my body fucked.
Within 5 minutes they united.
“Sorry mate I need cash for the fare.”
So he dropped me at an ATM, and despite piratical left eye covering I managed to withdraw 1000 Riyals – seemed like a good idea at the time.
I turned triumphant to find the indolent twat had driven off…
Hey Ho! Let’s go! Back to the highway to flag down a cab.
The first one was blue and white with flashing lights…
Five minutes later in the police Station; searched; questioned; belittled?
Not at all!
They were such lovely chaps!
“Please Mr. Peter sit down until you feel better. Then we will take you home!”
At 5 a.m. I was dropped off home.
Crashed out for hours.
When I awoke I checked my wallet – empty.
No wonder they were so happy.
They could have shoved me in pokey…
So £160 for a night’s fine was ok…