My adult life -Chapter 1

As mentioned in a previous post I still have to write the final chapter of my time in Africa. Ironically, for that reason I thought now is the best time to start on something I have been wanting to do for a long, long, loooooonnnng time. In a nutshell this “something” is a tell all, dig a hole, take myself up the creek step by step account of my adult life so far. Effectively at this point, it’s just a brutally honest account of my time a University. Thusly, scripting my final account of my time in Africa after these posts can somewhat show how far I have come since my arrival in Aberdeen on a mild September Saturday, 2 weeks after my 18th Birthday.

I knew close to no-one and I had never set foot in Aberdeen in all my puff. I was relatively shy and still recovering from a shoulder operation when my parents dropped me off at my catered halls of residence. Catered halls meant you stayed in jail cell type rooms but you had breakfast and dinner paid for. For me this was a grand opportunity to meet people, which I did. I met my first group of mates in the dinner que not one hour after my parents left me in life limbo. It was lucky to be honest. Looking back, I was frustratingly timid back then. I wasn’t enjoying life that much and it was all a bit placid and lukewarm. I cannot imagine where I would be now if I never fucked off to Uni, came out my shell, got my end away and met my close friends.That being said. Coming out of said shell…was a drunkenly sobering experience.

Alcohol. Lots of it. At least 4 nights a week. In Aberdeen, although it changed throughout the years, nights out were every Monday,Wednesday,Friday and Saturday. Often there would be Tuesday and/or Thursday thrown in. Generally just a shit tonne of fun for an 18 year old.

In the first few days of Freshers week I died my hair yellow and my ridiculous Anchorman sideburns red. Doing that seemed mental, I showed everyone I was up for anything, Stuff legends are made of…

Aye right. I looked like a right idiot! My thick wavy curly hair dyed vomit yellow. Sweet Jesus. At least it gave me character.

So much character that Radio 1 duo Chappers and Dave took me up on stage in front of a capacity club and made me sing off with some girl that had worryingly severe cellulite. I won the sing off and got to kiss Dave, but in truth there were no winners that night. That club was called Liquid and would be the scene of many a drunken antic. In the 4/5 years I spent at Aberdeen University, a great deal of my time was spent in Liquid. Wednesday night was the big night out there and you could give or take a Friday or any other night of the week throughout the years. It had two floors with the bottom floor split in two giving it a “VIP” section. The rest of that floor consisted of a fairly large dance floor and two bars. The upstairs was smaller and concentrated on cheesy music for when people wanted to get nostalgic.

As the first few weeks progressed I was still making good inroads into pulling as many woman as I could even with my war torn curly hair. One night that didn’t involve Liquid, we were back at halls and had an impromptu shindig at a friend of a friends self catered flat. This friend of a friend happened to be fucking beautiful. She was a real doozy and for some time the best looking girl I nearly had sex with.

In the middle of the party she dragged me to her room and unveiled a bottle of that knockoff 80% Absinthe. We had a couple of shots each and the next thing I know she is in her underwear. To this day I still remember that body (which is kind of wrong).

Life had well and truly peaked. Really it had. Absolutely outstanding norks and tremendous tucas. Then here is me, with my big yellow afro and broad borders accent that no one could understand. Me on the bed, pie eyed and slightly swaying, her in her lilac underwear, it was like that scene in American Pie where Nadia strips for Jim. Just before he prematurely ejaculates…except I didn’t ejaculate… i threw up.

Mentally I had sunk that Absinthe…physically my body had to either commit to keeping it down or commit to getting blood to my penis. It chose penis. Next thing I know I’m throwing up Team America style into her bucket (not a euphemism!!). Luckily, she was also now taken by the Absinthe and tossed the bucket out of her window before we both passed out. There it was. The origin. The start of a very long trend of me pulling gorgeous woman, going back to theirs and leaving them mentally scarred for life.

Actually, believe it or not I actually got another shot and went back to hers a week later. I successfully managed to completely not have sex that time either. In fact, a couple of years later a friend of her flatmate informed me that she found what was presumed to be one of my freakishly long pubes in the bathroom. Not just that, she ran around the flat with it and then showed it to everyone.Fuck sakes! Doesn’t get much worse than that. Oh wait it does (story to come). I don’t think it was my pube though. My pubes are super curly, she would have to unravel and iron it if it was to ever look long. Especially comically long. I reckon it was just one of my normal hairs, mistaken for a pube (a common occurrence). I think I would have a pretty good case in a court of law.

However embarrassing, she was high caliber and my confidence started to grow. I started to do quite well with the ladies. I was still truly awful at ceiling the deal but I was kissing a lot of woman. High five…anyone…no?

In fairness, much of the time I was too busy having a laugh and joke with people. I remember going into a friends tiny cell once after a night out, preferring to go there than back to a girls flat presumably to malt my pubes all over her bathroom. I walked in to a dozen people stoned off their faces laughing at the thought of an Elephant wearing shoes. Then my friend got so baked he couldn’t move or talk. Instead of calling it a night everyone stared throwing his stuff out his second floor window. What no-one realized was, there was an angry black girl speaking to someone through the window below. Within seconds she got nailed by a suitcase. No-one realized however and by the time she rampaged up to the door she caught us trying to stuff the mattress through the window.

Crazy girl “What the fuck, you mother fuckers. I just got hit on the head by a suitcase and I’m now bleeding”

Stoned guy “We have no idea what you are talking about”


The rest of the guys then drop the mattress on its side and start drumming on it in sync, beating faster and faster as the girls temper rises.

Stoned guy “Ah that was him”

He then points to the clueless occupant who’s nearly stoned unconscious and completely helpless in stopping his possessions getting thrown out the window.

The girl then goes off on one, the poor stoned guy just staring back, completely in his own world. The lack of response or contrition just enraged the girl further. One guy then whispers out loud

“I think he’s a racist”


By this point one guy had either got bored or forgot about the crazy girl and started to try and throw the guy who couldn’t move or talk out the window. Utterly dumbfounded, the girl boiling with rage mentioned something about a knife then ran off to get help. A couple of the more sober guys (including myself) then ran down to pick up the evidence and everyone managed to scarper home.

For around a month after the clueless occupant had to deal with random aggression from people saying they were going to “do him in” unless he apologized. He had no idea  what the fuck went on, he just had some missing stuff. It also transpired that the weed they had been smoking all night had been lased with Acid.

That was a random Monday night at the beginning of my first year at Uni. It was then I started to realize, no-one back home was doing this on a Monday night. Possible stabbings aside, this was just the tip of the iceberg. My time at University was going to be eventful.

There was no way I could imagine just how eventful it would end up being.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s