In the imortal words of our Lord and saviour, John Cleese, "Don't Mention The War. I did, but I think I got away with it."
Never one to take good advice, I think I'll have a stab at it, anyway.
With all this gorgeous sunshine that we've been having of late, a good portion of the blogging community is starting to show signs of mild sunstroke. However, and at the risk of sounding contradictory of myself, I think that those same bloggers need to get out more.
Bearing that in mind, and risking another pounding from scary Rotarian (swivel on this) Dave for mentioning it, Birchington is (finally) laying on an event, all of it's very own, this afternoon and I'd like to invite all and sundry to join me and my fellow 'gay capital' dwellers for a beer or two and, perhaps, a bit of an infantile giggle instead of the usual infantile rant.
And so as not to appear mean, I'll spend the bus fare that I'll be saving (about bloody time!) on a beer for the first person to approach me and declare "ooh Justin, I want want you're offering in ME!".
Can't say fairer than that, can I?
About Me
- Justin Brown
- Pushing back against the pillars of our community from the age of 21 (or there abouts).
4 comments:
I ventured over to Bitchington (in my CelebProtect Kevlar vest, given all the trouble from the north side recently), but all I could see was a convention for Rotarians. Was that it?
Unfortunately, Dickie dear, there was a bit of a mix-up (something about a bounced cheque from one of our more prominent members who shall remain Dr. Nameless) and the full page advert that was taken out in The Times never materialized.
There were, however, beers, ciders and a few stragglers that I can only assume, judging by their apparent affluence and golden suntans, were from the Southside of the island.
Well, I had a good time!
What I shame I missed out. Did one have to be of the Rotovatorian persuasion to join in?
Some may argue so, but you could chase yourself round in circles on that one.
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