New Pub

Got absolute rat-arsed in Hargreaves’ flat last night. Not as rat-arsed as Dominic Lafferty of course. Yet again he couldn’t handle his booze and had a pop at the middle classes, forgetting that he’s a fully paid up member of said class. He knocked over one of Hargreaves’ porcelain thimbles before running into his bathroom and yacking up (more on the pedestal mat than down the pan). Needless to say Hargreaves has banned him from the House Christmas dinner on Monday night. I don’t know where he expects him to go. It’s not like he can be locked in his study. Lafferty will find a way to get hold of some booze. He always does. I’m going to predict here and now that there’ll be fireworks between those two before Tuesday morning. CLASSIC!

Ralph and I are going for a “run” this afternoon. This whole dressing up in PE kit just to go and get shit-faced in a boozer three miles away is losing its appeal though. I might even take a change of clothes in a ruck-sack this time. I’m sure the other drinkers must think we’re bloody odd sat there in white shorts in the middle of December. We’re going to try somewhere else near Deerham today. Ralph reckons he knows the perfect place. It’s not far from where his uncle lives apparently. I think we should just go round his uncle’s place and crack into his booze but Ralph reckons that’s a non-starter. We’ll see.. I’ve got to buy the smokes again. I’m sure it’s not my turn. Plus Ralph is going through a “hard” phase and makes me buy the red packet. Urgh, it’s like putting an exhaust pipe in your mouth. I might over-rule him on this one. I think it’s time I started demonstrating that I’m not a complete pushover.