Sunday, September 07, 2003


Okay, so we ended up at Fitzies. And yes, another good time. Every time we go there something different happens to make it a unique experience (well, okay, maybe not that unique in that it involves us getting very drunk, meeting bizarre people and having tales to tell, but you have to admit the tales are fun!).

When we got there, the place was packed - we had to fight our way through the pack of people to the 2 stools at the bar that were empty. By the time we were sat and had caught Roger's eye and ordered our drinks, the place was half empty. Huh? Did we smell? Was my hair really that scary? Apparently it was a 'Bachelor Party' (that's stag do to us proper people) that was basically on a pub crawl, and they had just crawled out.

Roger was particularly drunk, which is great, and even better there weren't that many other girls in the bar so we got lots of attention from him (yes, we are fickle, we get off on flirting with the barman). There was one slight moment of panic when Crystal Tips (Dr Who's friend) came in. He is in love with Nancy, albeit from afar having never spoken to her (he's a friend of Dr Who, who she avoids at ALL costs). I managed not to catch his eye, while he wandered up and down the bar looking for his friend. Then, Dr Who also came in, but they stayed nearer the door, and I was sitting facing the other way stoically refusing to turn around and catch Dr Who's eye. Now, Dr Who is somewhat of a geek, but he is ok in small doses, but even I wouldn't inflict Crystal Tips on Nancy.

No Stoke Boys. For the second Saturday running. This is a worrying occurrence.

Dartman Dave was there. I have never really spoken to him before - he was someone Nancy met when her sister was here, and I only really knew him to smile and wave at because he knows Nancy. Anyway, he came over and was talking to us both. We were having great fun talking to him about our hairdresser, explaining to him what a Prince Albert was (very puckered up face) and then when I went on to explain the guiche he ran away. Told us the puckered face meant we had to stop, he didn't like it. He wasn't impressed when we said we liked the puckered face, that's why we continued, it made us laugh.

Anyway, the talk got around to nicknames we have for the regulars in the bar. The Stoke Boys - most of whom aren't from Stoke, the core being Will and Timmy and any number of hangers on - Golf Boy, Dr Who, Sodomy Boy. Dartman Dave was relieved with his nickname. Roger asked what his was, and laughed like a drain when I said he was known as Roger the Barman. Then ensued a discussion where Nancy owned up to not really understanding the reference. Then we asked Dave if we had any nicknames, seeing as we went there fairly often, not as much as most of the regulars, but we knew them all, and therefore maybe we were known as something other than our real names (apart from 'Rugeley' which Timmy and Will call me - I think this is simply because they can't remember my name).

"Oh yes, you have a nickname," Dartman Dave says to me.

Great, I think, nicknames are cool. They mean you are part of the cool kids gang.

"So, tell me, what is my nickname?"

"Stoke Girl".

Stoke Girl??

Stoke Girl?????

Nancy is laughing like a drain. "Why am I Stoke Girl?" Apparently, this is simply because I am the only person to ever enter that bar and talk to the Stoke Boys, and when they say where they are from I had not only heard of it, but knew where it was and had been there. And I am originally not that far from there. Okay, this is a better explanation than my initial fear had been. But still. Stoke Girl?

So, we then move to Nancy. Who is still mightily happy that I have the nickname Stoke Girl.

"So, what's my nickname then?"

"Stoke Girl's Friend!"



Oh boy was she pissed off. I have a shitty nickname, but at least it's my own. She is just 'Friend'. She demanded to have it changed, she wanted to be known as slutty girl. But, apparently there is already one of those. We suggested she be demoted, but then Dartman Dave explained that to achieve that name she had to have sex with at least 3 of the regulars in the toilets. Okay. So neither of us wants to be known as slutty girl.

Another bizarre moment - suddenly from up the bar this girl leans over the bar looking in my direction and screams "Ann!!!!!!" and comes running down to hug me. Nancy looks quizzically at me. I look confused back. I have no idea who she is. Or her boyfriend, who also greets me like a long lost friend. She looks vaguely familiar - "Did we meet here a couple of months ago" I ask? "No, it was last week." Whoops.

I pride myself on never having blank spots when I drink - sometimes I have time lapses where 4 hours can seem like 10 minutes, but I do recall most of what goes on (apart from the time me and Nancy were roophed, but that's another tale). But apparently me and Holly (the girl) were best friends last week in the bar, setting up a club called "We love Roger". Oh dear. I went along with it, but I still have no recollection. I do remember talking to them while they were playing darts. But not what about, nor did I realise we 'bonded' quite so much.

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