Mar 23 2003
Mariah is a dickhead
Q: What do you get if you cross Liberty X, Mariah Carey, and a zee list celebrity such as Jonathon from The Salon?
A: An incredibly bizarre, expensive, at times entertaining but severely crippling night out at G-A-Y.
This morning I welcomed London to Sunday, officially. Standing on the millennium bridge with my array of exhausted comrades I screamed “Good morning London!” There were so few people on the streets and at times we were in sole possession of the bridge. Littering the streets with our badly vocalised kareoke songs, we royally froze our arses off whilst waiting for various tube stations to open (oh, what, the tube opens at eight on a Sunday? Christ. It’s only five.) A smartly dressed Spanish couple lay enchanted on the floor, looking misshapen whilst their suits brushed up against the dirty wall. It was only when I realised that they were still drinking (man produces bottle of red wine) and a tramp ironically gave them the once over before declaring to them, Tramps!, that they seemed just as scummy as us. London has a way of appearing so alive, yet so desolate within the time frame of an hour or so.
If you ever have the opportunity to see Mariah Carey, don’t bother (I normally wouldn’t, but this was a dire situation). If you also ever have the opportunity to go to G-A-Y on a Saturday night, really don’t bother. My bank account suffers dearly as ticket prices leapt (I tell you, these ticket prices were alive!) from £10 to £14, costing me a whopping £28 (as I am the one who seemingly pays for .. lots of things in this relationship.) After queueing for an hour and measuring our progress by how far we could get from the bizarre four-at-a-time public urinal in the middle of the street, finally we made it to the doors. I really do abhor pre-club entry banal chitchat with bouncers. Blahblahblah, in yer face, is what I wanted to scream. But obviously I didn’t, because that just wouldn’t be ladylike, would it?
If I thought my feet had ever been in pain before, I was obviously wrong. The afternoon before I somehow (illegitimately) ended up attending the antiwar protest, surrounded by absolutely thousands of peace lovin’ people (at least 800,000 we were told upon entry). It was a tremendous once in a life time opportunity and whilst I’m pleased that I did go, I also found myself with an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia that intensely scared me. There were so many people, so much noise (from the public speaker and the crowd) that my head started to reel and I thought I may just pass out. Luckily this didn’t occur. My favourite part was when Mr. Public Speaker mentioned something about Blair coming out of Bush’s arse. Frightening mental images ensued, trust me.
This morning, surrounded by an innumerable amount of rather intimidating rude boys (dubbed by themselves as the “dirty ravers”), I watched my clubbing pals involunatrily dropping off to sleep. As the early morning sun filtered through the dirty windows of our train carriage, I couldn’t quite think of a better place to be, with better people, at a better time in my life. Huzzah for spontaneous nights out!
As for these Americans, oh dear lord! What is wrong with you? Perhaps these American soldiers could pull their heads out of their arses and stop kill people on their own side. Congratulations, America!
Psst! See Mariah dance like a genetically modified chipmunk with a brainless muscleman dancer! Yeeeehar!
