I have never heard tell of the Embassy Club in London but I imagine it to be a venue similar to the Flamingo Ballroom of yesteryear, only smelling less of sheep and silage and maybe not as classy.
For didn't Mick Jagger and Engelbert Humperdinck grace Ballymena's Flamingo? I'm sure they've never darkened the doors of the Embassy Club.
And obviously I thoroughly disapprove of violence. The last time I was in a catfight was nearly 40 years ago when Bernadette from Toomebridge attacked me in Paddy Smyth's Bar in Antrim town. I didn't know her from Eve at the time. Apparently it was something to do with her cousin's boyfriend but, thankfully, the bouncer took my part and carried Bernadette roaring down the stairs.
But to return to the Embassy Club in London, the venue where poor Charley from Big Brother was duffed up by this harridan. You couldn't help but admire the ruffian. Skirt up to her arse, the highest of heels, hair trailed back in a Croydon facelift, as orange as a pumpkin (except for the feet) and she's still able to trail Charley down the street without losing her fag! Awesome!
What could that girl do if she was properly dressed in combat gear and a decent pair of army boots? I'd not cross her.
Incidentally the last I heard of Bernadette she was going to jail for the attempted hijacking of a bus. I'm sure the girl from the Embassy Club could have made a better fist of that too.
2 comments:
It's the guy to the left standing talking on his phone that gets me. And is he holding his groin? Looks like it.
He's probably phoning his mates to come see. As for clutching his bits. Self preservation.
Post a Comment