Thursday, 21 June 2012

Alcohol Fuelled Twat

There are a number of prevalent misnomers in society these days, and one of them is that alcohol causes aggression. Bollocks. Alcohol simply magnifies parts of our personality and disengages certain brakes and failsafes.

We are in a time when newspapers declare that 'Alcohol Fuelled Violence Has Created No-Go Areas' and every town has its rat-run of cheap booze filled emporiums akin to the gin palaces of old, where the run -down and stressed denizens of our Big Society can enter various states of intoxication whilst engaging in moronic hollering contests, displays of pallid goose flesh and labyrinthine sex-driven subterfuge. Or so it appears to their impaired brains, anyone with a bit of unimpeded grey matter knows they're just disappearing for a shag, or an argument regarding the lack of shagging. In addition, from time to time, a male will posture up, begin bellowing and waving his tattoos to the accompaniment of a Greek chorus of screeching women brandishing and waving their shoes in elaborate patterns like those dudes on an aircraft carrier as they wave a stricken aircraft onto deck. Alas there is no arrestor strip outside Jaz Bar to slow this headlong plunge into stupidity.

Such an episode occurred yesterday and rather than stand or pass by as an observer, chuckling safely and smugly at the mindlessness of it all, I was part of the group in question. The worst perpetrator is an interesting case to say the least. When I completed my 68 mile journey to meet up with a couple of old pals one was sitting playing the piano with his back to the door as I walked in. I was slightly taken aback at the scene. I've known this guy for over ten years and at one point he and I were out on the town three times a week getting regularly and massively munted. We had a great time, every time. Once upon a yesterday he was a 'City Boot Boy', one of the local football team's less wholesome and community spirited fans but that was years ago and I knew him only as a warm, funny and enthusiastic drinking partner. Now, in his fifties, he is a successful professional public servant who lives with his partner on a farm with several horses and cockerels. Later that evening, after a few liveners, we discussed his recent entry into the Freemasons and, with my tongue firmly in my cheek, I accepted his assertion that I would make a great Freemason as I 'like history, and masonry is all about history'. Choking back the urge to start a debate over the merits of actual history versus invented tradition I took it in the spirit in which it was intended.

How the fuck, only three hours later, I ended up with him squaring up to me, bare ink-stained arms thrown wide like a looming gorilla, fists balled, teeth clenched and bared and growling, 'I don't give a fuck...' is something of a mystery to me. Somewhat taken aback I looked to the source of a high pitched female voice shouting, 'Pack it in, get in the taxi,' to see her, stilletoes in hand by a black cab and, for a moment ,I was out of my body observing the scene from above and thinking, 'Not so smug now are you, you silly bastard?'

The most tempting explanation as to why this occurred, one which was posited by another member of the group whom had been the target of the vast majority of this friend's aggression, was that he had simply had one too many.

Bollocks.

Alcohol does not make anyone behave like a primitive cunt. Being a primitive cunt on the other hand does. Sometimes it just takes a skinful for the rest of us to see it.

1 comment:

  1. Wholeheartedly agree. I hate the "I was drunk" excuse. I've been drunk many a time and never gone beyond saying something silly.

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