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nightlife

Monkey Shoulder FTW

02.17.08 | 1 Comment

So the Irregulars ventured slightly to the left of the northern line the other night in order to be suitably entertained by Monkey Shoulder whisky (has music) at one of their whisky appreciation nights. They had a fine show from Guy Browning, who you may know from his column in the Guardian, who took a pretty flippant approach to his chat about the ‘Art of Seduction’; nothing new for old hands like us, but generally entertaining.

The whisky was pretty fine as well, but it’s an old favourite of ours; good for sipping when you can’t stretch to the single malt and you’re not forced to take Bells.

And sipping on ice, if you’re either of us.Unfortunately, there was a guy there who disagreed fairly vehemently with me about the choice of having an ice cube (and, to note, I specified one mineral water ice cube) in my Scotch. And he wasn’t even Scottish. Disagreed so vehemently, in fact, that he called me a cretin. Thankfully, the cocktails had dulled the edges of my day, and I was willing to let it pass. Further lulz and pwnage ensued, however, when the repugnantly portly chap decided we should have some of his snuff rather than go outside and smoke (read, get the fuck away from him). He poured a little bit onto my hand and I was like, what, you expect me to snort this? Fuck you, buddy. And he had disappeared when we returned, mercifully.

Anyway, other than that sleazeball, we chatted to some good people, some wingman action went down and we pimped the blog somewhat. Oh, and drank a metric assload of free cocktails. Plus points for the whisky too; very little hangover arrived for me.

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1 Comment

  • On 02.17.08 chairmanmeow wrote these pithy words:

    Yes yes, the tale you recant rings some bells (horrible whisky related pun intended!) although the evening was somewhat of a blur due to said cocktail gluttony! I am still awaiting some form of contact from the extremely hot, arty girl I got talking to…in my whisky-ravished state I made the faux pas of not extending the offer of my cellular digits, amateur.

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« Crystal Castles = Crystal Meth for the ears
» Rockabilly indeed.