Three Monsters And Two Beauties
A Fairy Tale
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Shane MacGowan was kicked out of the five-star Connaught Hotel in London yesterday morning over a mysterious incident involving his bearded drinking companion.
Staff at the posh gaff accused Shane’s buddy of “soiling” an expensive Queen Anne antique chair.
The Pogues frontman stuck up for his pal but hotel staff asked them both to leave.
There was some dispute over whether a stain on the chair really was white wine or not.
The guys had been holed up at the hotel since Shane’s success at Monday’s Q Awards.
A source told:“Shane’s pal is always getting into trouble because he looks like Lord Lucan. He was once held by police who were convinced they’d tracked down the missing aristocrat. In reality he’s a millionaire property developer.”
(The Sun, 6 Oct, 2004)
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Far, far away in a galaxy... In a world where savage customs reign... Where injustice is everyday occurrence... Human rights are neglected and drunkards suffer terrible oppression in sight of silent community...
Once upon a time Shane tried to defend one of them (who destroyed antique chairs in a posh hotel) and became a victim himself. An adult, a respectable person, legend, musician honoured with Q Award... And they simply kicked him from their hole!
Kicked him out... Threw him in the wet darkness of a cruel London night... Didn't even let him finish his glass... Maybe he left his lighter on the table there, at the stinky bar! Maybe he fell on the pavement...
A beautiful girl helped him up… And he asked her "Where is pub?!!" and not waiting for reply staggered away into starless night.
She ran after him and led him to a cozy bar... And they drank and they danced and they danced and they drank and Shane almost never stepped on her shoes… just three or four times.
And what about the poor drunk millionaire? Shane's poor millionaire friend went to the toilet in the same cozy bar (where Shane and his princess were drinking and dancing), did some hygiene, and came out as a totally new person. It was a toilet encounter what completely modified him: He bumped into an innocent guy and took his dry trousers. Nothing else because he was a man of honour and that bloke wore a jumper... Being a respectable millionaire, the developer shrank from taking something like that (he was used to wearing Armani suits, he and Shane had them made in the same salon) and returned back to the Connaught hotel. Even cheap trousers are better than wet and stinky Armani...
Shane entered the toilet, intending to pee and to put some quantity of coke inside himself, found a crying guy without trousers there, and later noticed wet trousers of his friend. What did he think? That the crying sodomite tried to attack his best friend and got what he deserved - cupla kicks in the crotch. Immediately, he decided that he had to add several more for his best friend and for himself...
Now let’s leave them for a while (Shane with that poor guy in the toilet, face to face. One shitfaced and longing for revenge, the other one half naked... or half dressed, it depends...) and return back to Shane’s millionaire friend.
He came back to that lousy five-star hole full of antique chairs, gold-framed mirrors and brocade table-cloths, his fly open as the trousers were too tight and resisted his efforts to button them. He tried hard, did his best but they only got torn on the arse… Maybe the hotel staff would not recognize him... but that scrappy beard, you know, mad eyes, shaky hands... Dry trousers didn't help...
Anyway, he came back, shouted that he had enough money to sue the fucking hotel, its bloody administration, bitches-waitresses and faggots-waiters. Sue all of them to death!!!
And all the personnel, all the fucking staff of that cheap lousy hole, every bloody bastard to the last motherfucker were so charmed with him (especially when they realized that the mad drunkard really had enough money to sue all of them to death) that they let him in and offered him to spend as many days there as he wanted and to drink as much wine as he wanted and spoil as many pieces of antique furnirture as he found in that lousy hole. They would not mind at all.
He was not impressed, or he didn't look impressed (no muscle moved in his face), he just asked (in a severe voice, looking at them with suspicion through his puffy left eye): "May I invite my friends?"
"Of course you may, sir! It will be a pleasure for us.“
"And honour," added the headwaiter.
"AND HONOUR!" echoed everyone.
He said "OK" and smiled. Blood turned into ice in the veins of the personnel. "I like that. Sounds great. Let's try! Maybe I will not sue you today... It's too late anyway. I will be able to do it tomorrow. HA-HA-HA!" And he procceeded to the bar to drink down the insult, not forgetting to twitch the waitresses' buns on his way. And only the smell of, ehm, white wine was left hanging in the air...
Back to Shane... Shane towered over the poor half-naked guy crying on the toilet floor and could not proceed with proper punishment as he had no iron bar or a knuckleduster.
He was drunk a bit, wanted to sniff some coke but was interrupted by the presence of that bastard. He didn’t know what had happened to his best friend and felt the neccesity to revenge his friend and himself. All that hardened his heart and arm...
Yet he was standing there on his shaky legs, without an iron bar, without a knuckleduster, and just didn't know what to do. He was thinking about an iron bar, about the coke in his left shoe, the beauty in the bar, his abused friend… and that didn't leave any free cells in his brain to think about who was that poor bastard really. Situation became silly and difficult. I would say – a blind alley...
It was then that his beauty entered the lavatory, interest in her huge blue eyes, charming roses on her cheeks, golden rings in her pretty ears, big ti-…, well, uhm, teeth, yes! white teeth. She came in and asked: "Hey, Shane, where are you? Can I help you?" and gave a wank, ah.. shite.. a wink! nah! she just looked around... Yes, she came in, asked where etc. and looked around.
She could not believe her eyes. "What?! What does this mean?! Is that… that... Oh! It's impossible... No, never, he is an Irish treasure, he is a legend, he has been honoured with Q Award, oh, poor me, it's awful but maybe it 's…"
Shane interrupted her astonished rambling with his slurr: "Oi! Thanks, fuckin’ <censored> Bring me either an iron bar or a knuckleduster! And do it now!!!"
The bastard convulsed on the floor.
She didn't understand a word coz she heard something like "Oi shn fshk brsh aish brr ehser kchlsherrrr". No wonder – they had only been together less than an hour!
But she saw that something had to happen. Something very serious as her brand new cavalier was unusually concentrated and the crazy glitter in his eyes was meaningful.
"Shall I call the police?" asked the beauty.
"Oh shhhhht chfk plshh brgh fucking shlirn barrrrrrr" heard she in reply.
We all know what it meant: "Oh shite! Fuck the police bring me a fucking iron bar!"
The bastard covered his head with his arms and almost stopped crying.
The poor girl didn't understand a word of what Shane was saying, but she got a strong feeling (let's call it intuition, Shane seems to attract exclusively spiritual lassies), yes, she got a feeling that:
- he needs her help
- she has to go somewhere
- the police is unwanted.
So she made the only right decision - to return to the bar and call someone from the staff. She thought about it for a moment and then she did it.
But let's see first what the developer was doing in the lousy hole with antiques and champagne (6 pounds for a small glass).
He was sitting there, drinking – not champagne, of coz. Twitching waitresses, spitting into the fireplace… But suddenly he realized that something was absent! He thought for a couple of minutes (during that period he gulped two shots of whiskey, crashed a Chinese vase - Ming dynasty – and-put out a cigarette using the back of the nearest waiter) and bang! out of the blue he understood what it was - he badly missed coke!
As you may remember (the developer remembered it clearly in spite of all the whiskey and beer and things), the coke was in Shane’s left shoe. It meant that the developer missed his best friend - the legend, the treasure - Mr. Shane MacGowan. And missed him badly...
Where was Shane when his best friend needed him? Where was his left foot with his left shoe? He almost smelled it, so much he wanted it!
He looked left, then right, then under the table and into the empty bottle of Tullamore Dew... No signs of Shane...
Poor man… Ha-ha-ha, better say poor men! As it was not his problem, it was a pain in arse for all the staff. He called the nearest waiter (with a burnt hole on his back) and demanded Shane, "RIGHT FUCKING NOW!"
The waiter was not as drunk as the developer, and even if he had been drunk he would have immediately become sober as a dog. He remembered that they threw them both out of the hotel about an hour ago, the developer returned in twenty minutes but where is Shane? Fuck knows... He could lie in front of the door or he could be on a plane to Thailand...
First of all, they carefully checked the pavement in front of the lousy hole. No signs of Shane. Just a button, splinters of baby Powers and cupla fags.
Then they made some calls – train stations, airports, the Priory... No signs of Shane, and as for Priory... well they had to hang up the receiver as they never heard such a bad language before. And they only asked if Shane was there.
Then a brilliant idea knocked on someone's head - to call to bars instead of drunk tanks as only a little more than an hour ago Shane was made to leave that lousy hole, and he had been drinking there only since Monday so he physically was not able to be taken to a drunk tank. He only just started celebrating the Merit Award...
So they (the lousy hole staff) devided London into strategic districts and every person started to call every bar/pub/cafe/brothel/club in their district.
Maybe they would finally call even outdoor stalls as well as skating rinks, race tracks and planetariums, but one of the chambermaids was lucky! In the nearest cozy bar, they confirmed that about half an hour they saw a drunk aged man with big ears but without any teeth ("Yes, shaggy, exactly! In a dirty suit... No we are not sure if it's Armani, sorry… very thick layer of dirt, yes!") who was constantly smoking, drinking and hugging a chick. ("Yes, he was with a girl, we don't know where they are now, seems like both left for the toilet, aha, maybe ten minutes ago... we hope so, as he didn't pay for their triple G&T and martini...").
So the headwaiter ran there to check who was that person whom they described so disrespectfully. When the beautiful girl returned to the bar, in the dim lights and smoke haze she encountered a strange man who looked like a waiter from five-star institution but had a burnt hole on his back. He elbowed his way through the customers, peered into their faces and asked questions. It looked like the lunatic was desperately searching for someone or something.
When she approached him carefully, she was surprised to find that he was asking about her cavalier – a drunk aged man with big ears, missing teeth, dirty suit, indecipherable speech.
Actually she wanted to ignore him and ask a bouncer to help her cavalier in the toilet, but the headwaiter asked her the same question he was asking everybody else, so she had to talk to him. First of all, she politely asked something like "Who are you?", he answered "A headwaiter" and she decided that he might be even better than a bouncer although he was so short. So her next question was "Would you be so kind to help a man in the toilet?"
Shane was still there and thought it would not be bad to treat himself to some stuff to while away the time. He turned to a sink, leaned against it, took off his right shoe, searched inside for a while, even had time to worry a bit, then he recollected the package was in the other shoe, took off his left shoe, found it there, did a sniff, paid a glance to the mirror (the mirror was over the sink... I don't know why he did it, but in every movie addicts look into the mirror afterwards...).
The guy on the floor decided to escape before the drunkard got an iron bar (strange, but he had understood his words pretty well). He threw himself to the nearest window…
… but it was too narrow. He got stuck there.
So when the headwaiter, other waiters and the girl came in they saw:
- barefoot Shane in front of a mirror with powder all over his face (he was frightened with the noise, first that guy in a window, than the mob in the doors, they broke his solitude... and he scattered the stuff)
- lower half of bare-arsed person stuck in the window
- shoes (size 7) in the middle of the toilet floor.
They didn't give a fuck about the body in the window, they shouted: "Shane, your friend is waiting for you!!! Come on!!"
The powder was not only all over Shane’s face and jacket but in the sink too, and he became furious about it. He refused to leave the place…
… and forbade them to approach.
They tried to talk him into leaving, kinda "Your friend is waiting for you."
"Which friend? Joey?!"
"No."
"I have no friends apart from Joey!!"
Not even his princess was allowed to come closer. Shane said that he saw her for the first time and it was absolute truth. He called her..., uhm, various words which were not fit for princess’s ears – all becoz it was that cow’s fault that he lost his coke.
So… They decided to ask Joey for help!
They tried to get his number via Paddy Rolling Stone Forum. They were no fans, they didn't know what it would lead to… And the guy in the window started to wheeze, and when Shane noticed him, he tried to wrench out a piece of piping. So they needed urgent help.
Some of the replies on the Forum were: "Oh, finally someone decided to kill the greedy cunt!" and "I would like to know his number too, to kill the junkie with my own hands!" and later the administration simply deleted the question as they thought it to be from Joey’s assistant Liz, maybe she had lost Joey's number... So they failed with PRS!
They asked Shane if he would like Joey to come and help him with the pipe - so that together they could kick the shit out of the poor guy.
Shane said: "Yes! I would! Where is Joey?!!"
And that was the question...
They tried their last chance - they asked Shane about Joey's number.
He thought for a minute and then rolled up his right sleeve. Eleven magical figures were tattooed on his forearm...
"THE NUMBER!!!!!" gladly shouted the waiters.
"What?" shouted the girl. "He said it was his personal number when he was imprisoned in British camp after a failed uprising in Ireland!! He was a rebel, a chief of staff of Fenians!!!"
Shane told them the number figure by figure a pretty few times. They wrote the figures down on their cuffs and then compared the results and got something like seven different phone numbers.
They tried them all and finally reached Joey and it’s another story how hard it was to make him pick up the receiver.
He refused to come for Shane at first, he was cursing and things, said that it was too late, he was too busy, and they could hear a dissatisfied woman's voice: "Should I wait till you come back and finish then? I'll leave off !!!!" Something like that, something about coming and finishing... It doesn't matter.
What finally persuaded Joey? The coke! They told him that Shane'd scattered it all over the toilet. So Joey immediatelly decided that his presence was really needed. Kinda the situation was serious. He asked for the address of the place (from time to time, he shouted aside "Fuck off! I told you I have no money, you'll get a free pass to Ronnie Scott’s, I promise!! Shut up and fuck off, I have a business meeting.").
Anyway, he came in a half an hour. First of all, he put his finger into the sink, licked it, then hugged Shane and asked him for money to pay for the taxi.
In five minutes he came back, without the change (he got a 100 pound banknote from Shane) but with two glasses of triple G&T.
He gulped from one, handed the other one to Shane. And asked the public to leave them alone for a while.
Everybody left except for the princess. As the guy in the window could not leave by himself, Joey helped him with a pan lid. Kicked his arse with the lid...
... so with a strident scream he leaves our story!
After a long while, the princess came to the bar and asked for more glasses of G&T. She had to pay for them, as well as for the very first one and for her martini – or else they would not have served her. She took the G&T and disappeared to the toilet again.
In an hour ot two, hmm, maybe three, the staff screwed up the courage to look into the toilet. The girl was a bit out of it, sitting on one of the urinals. Shane was totally out of it, trying to put his left shoe in the right pocket of his trousers, and Joey (wearing Shane's jacket) said he could not do anything, maybe Victoria could help... The interesting thing: there were no signs of powder in the sink.
And the millionaire friend? He forgot about Shane after he got the prettiest waitress and another bottle of Tullamore Dew. Later he asked for a room and fell asleep there.
The princess was not a princess any more, she promised to refuse the crown and to follow Shane and Joey to the end of the universe... Well, she would have to explain at home where she had lost her chastity, so the end of the universe was a better option.
Joey promised to call Victoria… A waiter brought them some more whiskey and beer… The poor girl started to puke upon seeing the stuff but Shane was grateful. He was tired but satisfied.
THE END OF PART ONE
... click HERE if you dare try PART TWO
