last night in the columbia. room 310 to
be precise. there was a strange party.
ordinary boys, extraordinary girls,
mucho fun. everything in the place got
smashed minus a single cup which was
left intact. even the pictures that were
nailed to the wall were smashed. one on
ob's head. hard as nails, yet not rough
as rats. bathwater spilling all over the
place. sex on duvets (soaking on the
bathroom floor) -glad it wasn't me doing
the sex part ;)
kettle depressed me that it was broken.
cupboard got a table into it. and
shattered. all the floor was covered in
glass. couldnt walk. oops! had to stand
on the bible that had fallen onto the
floor stil in the drawer it was in in
the first place. bugger. what a night
what a place. i'm warming to douglas in
a strange kind of way. its like he
actually turns a blind eye when i get my
friends to distract him so i can let
bundles of people in the side door.
p.s if anyone finds a school council
badge. message vanessa. she lost it when
she was naked.
columbia rools.......take the highway
to the CH.....the only way to go.
Douglas is bloody groovy.....he just
rids the joint of the
trainspotters....and datsuns
groupies.....so the bands and
regulars can drink in peace...and do
other things. He has actually
mellowed out quite a bit....and
doesnt gossip about guests to other
guests & tell intimate shit about them
to other guests...which other staff-
younger male staff- have started
making a habit of. Best CH story- a
certain friendster cowboy going there
wasted at 4am to find a friends room
and get some rest when he was
homeless & needed to couchsurf,
and he's so wasted he can't find the
room when he gets there. He goes
into the Viceroy suite and then out
onto the balcony facing hyde park in
the wee hours to pass the time since
he has nowhere to stay, and decides
at about 6am to just crash under one
of the large banquet tables that are
conveniently covered with huge table
clothes that hide anything under
neath the table. So he crashes in the
huge empty ballroom on the end of
the hotel's 2nd floor, but fails to
notice that there are about 200 chairs
set up, facing the table. Also the
table is on a little 'stage' riser. He
wakes up still wasted at about
midday, in this dark space, still trying
to remember where the hell he is
and what's going on. He then
realizes that he crashed under this
table, and there is a full international
conference going on with about 200
people all sitting facing him, who is
hidden under the tablecloth, and
there is a speaker at a podium right
next to his hideout. He lies there for
about an hour, sweating, dehydrated,
til he can take it no more....waiting for
the conference to end or break for
lunch. This doesn't happen, so he
finally is so dehydrated that he has to
pop out from under the table,
wearing a full length purple fur gorilly
coat number, and he just
says...."HI".....and rolls out. The
conference people flip out, think he's
a spy from another company, and
keep him there for like a half hour,
interegating hiim about what he was
hiding there for......bloody classic. He
has to convince them he's just a
rhinestone purple cowboy from
nashville.....and he stumbles down
the front desk in search of Paul, to
open up the bar and give him a triple
jack and coke....it's thanksgiving day
after all.
Other good stories
abound.....another friendster
member sneaking into a room with 2
guys at 6am cause the room has
had a hole smashed in the door that
is waiting for repair, and they are
wasted and need a place to crash.
THen the staff find them and they get
brought in front of the owner....a
lovely fellow,,,,but they are 86'd. CH
we love you.....ange
The first time i ever visited your
hallowed halls, 1992 i think. A man
from Manchester tried to fight us for
being students, then gave us drugs.
One time i burnt my hand on the hot
tap. Another i woke up in the wrong
room. Aimes would always remember the
names of each of my band, and he
always phoned me so we wouldn't miss
breakfast when we were skint. I once
asked my beloved to marry me in room
401 after the last ever Ligament gig.
It ended badly, but i don't blame you
my dear, you've always been faithful
to your promise. We salute your racist
soul, but must insist you get rid of
the horrible Scottish night porter. He
aint in Aimes' league.
if you can't get a room, i've got some suites you might be
interested in. i serve an underappreciated english
breakfast. if you're lucky, i'll show you my labyrinth.
be precise. there was a strange party.
ordinary boys, extraordinary girls,
mucho fun. everything in the place got
smashed minus a single cup which was
left intact. even the pictures that were
nailed to the wall were smashed. one on
ob's head. hard as nails, yet not rough
as rats. bathwater spilling all over the
place. sex on duvets (soaking on the
bathroom floor) -glad it wasn't me doing
the sex part ;)
kettle depressed me that it was broken.
cupboard got a table into it. and
shattered. all the floor was covered in
glass. couldnt walk. oops! had to stand
on the bible that had fallen onto the
floor stil in the drawer it was in in
the first place. bugger. what a night
what a place. i'm warming to douglas in
a strange kind of way. its like he
actually turns a blind eye when i get my
friends to distract him so i can let
bundles of people in the side door.
p.s if anyone finds a school council
badge. message vanessa. she lost it when
she was naked.
true?
rooms if you cant buy them to blow
lines in?
Room key? Thats for opening a room, not a
tap.
to the CH.....the only way to go.
Douglas is bloody groovy.....he just
rids the joint of the
trainspotters....and datsuns
groupies.....so the bands and
regulars can drink in peace...and do
other things. He has actually
mellowed out quite a bit....and
doesnt gossip about guests to other
guests & tell intimate shit about them
to other guests...which other staff-
younger male staff- have started
making a habit of. Best CH story- a
certain friendster cowboy going there
wasted at 4am to find a friends room
and get some rest when he was
homeless & needed to couchsurf,
and he's so wasted he can't find the
room when he gets there. He goes
into the Viceroy suite and then out
onto the balcony facing hyde park in
the wee hours to pass the time since
he has nowhere to stay, and decides
at about 6am to just crash under one
of the large banquet tables that are
conveniently covered with huge table
clothes that hide anything under
neath the table. So he crashes in the
huge empty ballroom on the end of
the hotel's 2nd floor, but fails to
notice that there are about 200 chairs
set up, facing the table. Also the
table is on a little 'stage' riser. He
wakes up still wasted at about
midday, in this dark space, still trying
to remember where the hell he is
and what's going on. He then
realizes that he crashed under this
table, and there is a full international
conference going on with about 200
people all sitting facing him, who is
hidden under the tablecloth, and
there is a speaker at a podium right
next to his hideout. He lies there for
about an hour, sweating, dehydrated,
til he can take it no more....waiting for
the conference to end or break for
lunch. This doesn't happen, so he
finally is so dehydrated that he has to
pop out from under the table,
wearing a full length purple fur gorilly
coat number, and he just
says...."HI".....and rolls out. The
conference people flip out, think he's
a spy from another company, and
keep him there for like a half hour,
interegating hiim about what he was
hiding there for......bloody classic. He
has to convince them he's just a
rhinestone purple cowboy from
nashville.....and he stumbles down
the front desk in search of Paul, to
open up the bar and give him a triple
jack and coke....it's thanksgiving day
after all.
Other good stories
abound.....another friendster
member sneaking into a room with 2
guys at 6am cause the room has
had a hole smashed in the door that
is waiting for repair, and they are
wasted and need a place to crash.
THen the staff find them and they get
brought in front of the owner....a
lovely fellow,,,,but they are 86'd. CH
we love you.....ange
hallowed halls, 1992 i think. A man
from Manchester tried to fight us for
being students, then gave us drugs.
One time i burnt my hand on the hot
tap. Another i woke up in the wrong
room. Aimes would always remember the
names of each of my band, and he
always phoned me so we wouldn't miss
breakfast when we were skint. I once
asked my beloved to marry me in room
401 after the last ever Ligament gig.
It ended badly, but i don't blame you
my dear, you've always been faithful
to your promise. We salute your racist
soul, but must insist you get rid of
the horrible Scottish night porter. He
aint in Aimes' league.
hasn't been worth doing...