Three drunken men

Friday night at the pub.

I didn't finish till 11.45pm as at end of shift, had to find space in the freezer for a barrel load of the hugest oysters I've ever seen, they were, quite literally the size of a large man's hand. These were part of an order for a private party - a shellfish fest. FOr a famous playwright whose play has just won many awards. So I didn't begrudge it.

Meanwhile, chaos was ensuing around me. Jason was banging on the piano, joined by Rob brushing his drums (remarkably well, considering his condition). Jane swayed and managed to stay upright, Fiona put on her busty washboard and with a rolling pin and a large metal spoon, pumped out some vaguely rythmical sounds. Stewart had previously been wearing it and managed to dislodge one of the bell nipples from a boob. If Johny and Els had been there, the kitchen would have been denuded of several tupperware dishes of baking beans and coriander seeds, plus cheese grater and wooden spoons. Instruments used on a regular basis.

I was, quite possibly, the only one who was stone cold sober; listening to Richard practicing a passage from the COrinthians which he's reading at his mother's funeral. Meanwhile, right in front of me, three large men were wrestling. Inevitably, one fell over, just missing crushing me to death.

A typical night really.