The traditional day of rest, or so it is told. A day to travel to church, and repent your sins. But for the Bmans party, there was obviously not nearly enough fun been had to let the shame start bubbling up from inside. That was all to change on the night that due to a freak (and I mean *freak*) contact lens disaster, I somehow managed to miss. Had anyone watched the clouds over Manhatten that night, they must surely have been broiling.
The mayhem began at a relatively calm Arlington Hotel, with everyone converging on Juju's room waiting for the beer to set in and the trouble to begin, and but for lens slippage that should have been our starting point to, but we ran out of time and phoned just in time to hear them leaving on a trip to the now scarred for life bowling alley.
It is supposed to be such an innocent sport, bowling, but innocence it has no more, for the Bmans possee, filled with beer and good times, have struck again. Saliva transferals were on such a premium you'd have thought that there was a national shortage. In trying to untangle the web of stories about what happened that night, I have become so confused tat I had to have a lie down and rest before I could function properly.
The antics of the night seems to have gone further than anything the pub has seen before, leaving a nasty taste in the mouth for more than one pubber, but it stands as a great night out in Bman's pub legend. Who knows if I can ever know the full truth of that night, but if anyone can help, you know the hotline number.