The Staff Jolly

And just like that two weeks have gone by with very very little to report.  I say very little - it depends what constitutes "news" to you.  I mean, if hangovers and overindulgences are of interest, then perhaps I might be able to oblige.  The head of department decided it was high time to get the Tech Team, as we are known, out for a jolly around Soho. This was achieved with the ease of a hot knife going through butter.  Since you can't flick a bogey without hitting 10 pubs in Soho, a pub crawl is a) the obvious choice and b) with the exception of a show at the peelers, drinking is pretty much the only thing worth doing.

It was a night with multiple choice endings. The first ending (should you choose to select this one), was at "Byron at The Fox"a burger place in Wardour Street, today an upmarket diner that serves posh burgers and is located in what was once The Intrepid Fox pub.  OH THE IRONY! If that wasn't once the greebiest pub in London.  I do believe I spent my whole 16th - 17th year loitering in the general vicinity.  It was a legendary punk pub on the street where the original Marquee Club used to be before it moved to Tottenham Court Road and then finally went the way a lot of the old school cultural landmarks - up in a puff of gentrified smoke.  It sure was weird to sit at a table in a place where furniture was once banned and the closest thing to food was crisps.  The carpets (or what was left of them) were so sodden with beer and vomit that standing in one place for too long was as difficult as walking in quick sand and almost as dangerous. But....

That was then...

This is now...

...today you won't find a tattoo or piercing within 10 metres of the place

You could choose to end the night there.  You could.  But you don't.  Instead you say your goodbyes to the boss and the out-of-towners and then there was 3.  We slip down a side street to fit in a couple more pints, because we just can't help ourselves.  We just don't know when to stop.  We're just having too much fun and we're feeling way too sober.

But not for long.  And then the morning after pays a rude visit and you want to die.  We all make it into work - though I dare say very little of the stuff (work) got done.  Still, if the aim of the Tech Team jolly was to bond with work colleagues? I think I can safely say: Mission Accomplished.

And just as soon as we bond, the first casualty.  One of the team resigns and of course, we must celebrate, Soho style.  Can you guess what we did?

So that's really the long glass and shot glass of that.