Ainsley’s 18th

A two hour Psychology lesson with Gajan at Victoria st. local Starbucks isn’t going down to well, with me downing my xxl latte (I refuse to find out what they expect me to call it; they should realistically come up with an ISO standard for cup sizes) with an extra shot of something. The last 30min ends with me imagining a slot on her wittering head and 50pence pieces dropping every couple of minutes creating a resounding – plop.


The trip back to surbiton is left with me frantically trying to work out what to do for the night. Chance it at Ainsleys, where it could turn into a cock fest, tag along to Tom and Matts or go the extra mile and leave Surbiton for Walton with Mike. As with all of these indefinite plans I left a great deal of fail safe; Ainsley – Mike – Gajan. Fun is rather elusive if you don’t have your failsafes. Remember your failsafes kids.

As i’m getting lost in Surbiton, walking in completely the wrong direction, i bump into the infamous Dan Bolan. He’s accompanied by a twatish narrow minded gimp and oh so cute, yet oh so young, girlfriend. To be honest, 14 for 18 doesn’t sound so bad when you look at her and say 15 in German for long enough.


It doesn’t bode well when Ainsley is outside of the premises when we arrive. By outside i mean down the road 10minutes away. As we arrive, my heart sinks. Not due to the obviously shite time i’d have, but Ainsleys 18th memories. The room consists of 15 guy friends from school, all eager to devour the girls the other guy was supposed to bring – “But you were bringing the pussy dude”. We bolted without even entering the premises.

On the way to Mike’s party at Walton, we bump into Ainsley again, my altruistic hat came out of the closet. I mentioned we’d go to the pub sink a couple then go back to the party when it livened up again, glanced around and realised a group of 10 kids wern’t exactly gonna get served. As we walked around, 30 odd people were seen headed to the house, a good sign. At the station i bumped into some familier AC faces and their friends. Sam, Johnny and Bt. Decided to tag along, even if they were a bit reticent to have me do so. They’re to polite to tell me to fuck off.

I hold out my New Scientist and decide for the rest of the night to prove to them psuedo intellectuals really do exist. By the time we made it back to the house, it had been transformed into a heaving party with a lot of young girls. Brought me back to being a rebel without a cause and I loved it.


Somewhere through the night i asked someone to bite me. She bit; it quelled my thirst for pain for a couple of minutes, and although ruining the artistic nature of the bite mark, I came running back for another. Then another. There were some industrial Goths at the party who I impressed them with my goo knowledge, Alec Empire and Atari Teenage Speed Riot to mention but a few; What didn’t impress me was the use Cocaine. That was, what i thought to be cocaine. On closer inspection the Goth was just reapplying his make up.


With a mirror on his knee, and bending right over, who’d have been wiser. I go over, make conversation and ask if they can do me up. Maybe if i show them how stupid they look and mock them a lil, they just won’t do it again. They oblige. I get Sarah, a random girl who somehow knew me from somewhere to put it on and it’s great. I don’t look the part enough though so find someone artistic, Hannah, to go for it. She adds some streaks on the left and a cock on the right. Obviously totally oblivious to me. I stand grinning. Feeling a touch of humility would do me good I leave and contemplate the various ways of emotionally blackmailing her.


After a tour of the house and taking all the redicule I can endure I still can’t think of a worthy blackmail. I try for the longshot of nudity which doesn’t pay off. Holly is teasing, which is cute. The thought of taking one for the team does cross my mind, but i’m not an asshole.

Ed, our silly lil friend, drank to much and got in a state. At this age, I don’t like people who get in a state. Decided to spin him around a few times and shout non sensical abuse at him. Stuff you wish people would do to you so you don’t get like that again. People started staring at the obscene boy being rude to the poor kid, I grinned. Didn’t do him much good, he lay wretching on the sofa for the rest of the night with his bitch looking after him. He seemed the only sane one there and was rather funny. I’d have a banter with him after every couple tours of the house when mocking the goths lost its edge.

Somebody with a nice back.
The stripper arrived. She was a luvley 50 year old who had the fortunate pleasure of 50 odd pubescent boys shouting abuse at her while she found the lucky guy. He was miles away. I felt slightly touched for the poor women who really should have asked for a typewriter for Christmas.( ‘If you don’t take a job as a prostitute, we can stop your benefits’). All sympathy went out the window when she started berating the mother who was dumbfounded that such an uncouth thing was in her house. I had enough and stepped into the circle pit which had now formed around her and told her “It was a joke bitch, your not gonna get your money, leave”. She left.