A Trip Down Memory Lane
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away (10 years, Liverpool), I was a student at Portsmouth Uni. We mudded frequently and found ways to spod from ever increasingly blatant places (library terminals in particular), much to the angst of the sysadmin. Some time in ‘95 we the Fratton posse from Portsmouth drove up to Liverpool, along with other random pockets of spods from around the UK for a mud meet (the mud in question being The Razors Edge).
What follows below is an account of Cozzy’s evening that I found on Mono BBS. Most of the names in there are game characters, and I was a god by the name of MrPink at the time (after Floyd, not the Reservoir Dog). Read on for an amusing tale of drunken student shenanigans…
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—————————————————[Sun Jun 18 21:11:08 1995]–
From: I came, I saw, I gotoff with some OAP… (cozzy)
Subject: The bootleg version of “Cozzy does Liverpool”.
Lets start with a little bit of scene-setting.
After a night’s heavy drinking with Mallory, Seeker, Stove Sytoru and Small - combined with a tiring drive up from Portsmouth with the Fratton posse, I was well and truly shafted. Desperately needing to crash, I wearily left Time Tunnel in search of a cab. Luckily for me, Mallory had written his address on a scrap of paper which I duly handed over to the driver.
Leaving me on Garrick St. I promptly went off in search of the infamous number 46. After what seemed like an age wandering back and forth the vicinity (drunkenly asking for directions) I decided to knock on a friendly local’s door… Oh the surprise I got (silly me). Out came this charming lady, with THE most strongest liverpudlian accent ever! She then proceeded to hurl offensive
remarks in my general direction at the top of her voice…
“Yer f***in’ tw@rt, wha’ d’ya thank yer f***in’ dooin’ at 4 in the marning…wakin’ my f***in’ kids …” etc etc.
Needless to say, I apologised and parted with her company.
*** Several hours later… ***
Still wondering around the area (by which time I was soaking wet, tired, hungry and still completely w@nkered) I was stopped by a member of the porcine variety. He asked what I was doing loitering at this time of the morning. I explained to him that I had been out with my ‘friends’ (k’yeah reet!) and that I was supposed to be staying with them at number 46. I also said that noone was home and that I had no placed to go…. *cue violins*
My facade obviously worked and he took pity on me, suggesting that I could crash out at the police station — at least it would be dry. He drove me to the nearest station and left me there on the bench in the foyer. After crashing out for 30 mins, I awoke and thought to myself “Sod this, I’ve got to get back to Chris’”. Still inebriated, I jumped over the counter of the police station
(having not heard of the police burtality that had occured in this area) in search of a helpful policeman to “show me the way to go home…I’m tired and I wanna go to bed…” etc etc.
He duely bollocked me for being a cheeky bastad, clipped me ear and sent me packing. I wasn’t impressed to say the least…
By some god-like miracle, I ended up once again at Garrick St (after passing several winos and grim hookers — both demanding money from me, although for different reasons.)
By now, it was chucking down with rain and I was bleary-eyed and pretty legless. I was desperate to find a warm bed.
*several hours later*
My first night in Liverpool, pissed out of my face, in a strange town. Things did not look good for me. Then! What luck! I managed to find number 46 Garrick St. Hurrah! (or so I thought…) and what more, the door was open too! Ohhhh, how relieved I was. I stumbled into the house and leaving the door ajar, I had a quick look around. Noone was in, the lucky goit must have pulled! (k’yeah reeeeeet!) Finding an empty bed up the stairs, I took off my shoes and crashed — sweetly entering slumberland.
* 5.5 hours later *
Out of the corner of my eye (still half a asleep) I noticed two people wearing extremely bright clothing. Partly shocked and partly happy, I thought it was Chris and sat up in the bed.
“Errrr, could you get up out of bed please, sir?” said the Policeman 1.
“Oragghhhh” I mumbled, “Where am I??”
“Could you stand over there please?” replied Policeman 2, pointing to the side of the bed. He then proceeded to frisk (!) me checking obvious for dope and weapons.
“Where are you from?”
“Portsmouth, I came up with some friends.”
“So did you go out drinking yesterday then??”
“Yeah, I think I had a bit much…”
They laughed among themselves.
“Do you where you are???” said Policewoman.
“Errr. This is my mate’s Chris’ house. He lives at 46 Garrick Street. I was supposed to be sleeping there this weekend.”
They laugh uproariously, in total disbelief.
“Well, son, you have an extremely frightened old lady downstairs, who phoned us up this morning saying there was a strange man in her bedroom. When we came and saw you here, we couldn’t believe it!”
Searching through my wallet they come across my student card and crack up even more.
“Ahhh, he obviously hasn’t gotta a clue. He’s probably done no harm.” says Policeman1 to Policeman2.
By now, I was cacking my pants, thinking a hefty prison sentence was coming my way.
“I don’t normally do this sort of thing — I’m a student, finished my finals 2 weeks ago…”
“Still celebrating now?”
“Yeah — I don’t normally do this sorta thing you know…”
Once more, they laughed. This time harder than the last.
The duly escorted my outside and asked me where I was supposed to go. They then gave me directions. At this stage, I was reduced to a frightene little boy and was begging them to drive me to Chris’. Taking pity on me, they ACTUALLY drove
me to the right street and the right numbered house. They even waited for me outside whilst a flabbergasted Chris, in his boxer shorts with only a pillow to cover his pride, staggered down the stairs and saw me get out of a police car, having been missing for well over 8 hours…
Needless to say, I was WELL happy to be alive. That is not however the end of the story…
After crashing out in Chris’ lounge for a further 2 hours, we all got up and was ready to meet everyone at AJ’s.
So off we strolled down the street, Chris, Nick (Mr Pink), Ambient (Tom) and myself (sporting some shades and a cap in a feeble attempt to hide my hangover) when from behind us …
“Hey you, yes you you f#cking bastad, you tw@t. Wat dyer think yer doin’ wakin’ up me kids at 4 in the mornin’ ?? Wait till me fella gets back, he’s gonna f#ckin’ kill you.!”
Yes, you guessed it. Trust my amazing luck to have banged on the same bitch from hell’s house, only a few hours previously, not knowing she lived a few doors down from Chris’. Woaaahh! I thought, sh!t man, I shafted. First time in Liverpool and I’m gonna have ten barrels kicked out of me. The other guys were obviously pleasantly surprised by the apparent irony of the whole affair.
They then proceeded to scare the crap out of me (well Chris did anyway…) about how the whole gang thing had blown up in Liverpool. All the rest of the weekend, I was looking out at every corner for a sqwaking mad bitch-lady and her maniacal husband. We even had to carry out a covert operation to get me safely back into the house at 8.30am this morning, with Nick quickly unlocking the door whilst I hid behind him, with Tom and Paul guarding the flanks.
Boy! What a weekend! Here’s definitely a story worth treasuring.
Do I get my god-hood now?
We have to do it again real soon!