Below are the beginnings of a post I wrote whilst slightly drunk in a hotel room a couple of weeks ago. I consider it an unfinished masterpiece and feel it is my duty to release it. If I die before it is completed - like Speilberg completed A.I for Kubrick - I elect George Orwell to complete this blog. That is assuming he doesn't die first. What?! He has?! How did I miss that? In that case I designate the responsibility of completing any unfinished works in the event of my death to Gaby Roslin....
I'm starting to appear sarcastic aren't I? In this instance I'm not. I mean it's not a nadir (whatever that means) but it's been lovely. I'm on my own. When I arrived at the Holiday Inn Express I decided to have a drink in the bar downstairs. I usually do this when I'm away. Hotel rooms are essentially just fancy bedrooms and I don't really do anything in bedrooms except sleep and MAKE LOVE.
So there I was in the bar downstairs with a pint of Caffreys. Beside me I had a copy of Tina Fey's Bossypants (which is brilliant) but being a prick I was embarrassed about it because there were builders around. The builders were playing pool and I decided that I wanted a go. Guess what? I am fucking brilliant at pool. I mean really. To a builder I probably look like I'd rather stick a pool cue up my arse than pot a ball with it but I am honestly really good. I
And there I stopped. I remember that I was worried that, being drunk I might regret posting. I think it was alright. I wonder what I was about to say with that final 'I' that made me stop. Perhaps the 'real me' was coming out and I was about to unleash a tirade about immigrants. Anyway, I did beat the builders at pool because I am, indeed, brilliant at it. That wasn't just drunken bravado. It's a source of great pride for me that I am good at pool and I love surprising people with it. Lots of men seem astonished that someone with no muscles and the gait of a bi-curious teen can beat them. They forget that pool is a game of skill not braun.
The most sexist place left in society is around a pool table. My girlfriend is very good at pool (when she's not on the crack pipe) and the way men handle it is incredible. If she plays a male stranger they nearly always start by giving her advice. This is before she has even done anything. Then when she plays a couple of good shots they make a point of saying 'good shot' quite loudly but clearly believe in their heads that it was a fluke. Then when she eventually beats them they lay on the praise a little too thick as if she's just done the impossible. "Fifty years ago the world saw it's first talking woman but never did we think we'd see the day when someone with a vagina could create the necessary angle required to pot a ball".
Many women play into the sexist atmosphere around a pool table. Of course, plenty of them are shit at it but there is no need to act so helpless. There is something very 1950s about the way they giggle and defer to the be-testicled for advice. It's not that hard of a game. Just work it out for yourselves, ladies. And if you really can't do it then maybe I could give a private lesson some time. At my place. Nekid.
There a two things that strike me about this post. First, the story in the original one about me giving a talk about Islam is genuinely true. I will have to tell you about that sometime. The other is that although I flatter myself to say so I think my two favourite phrases in the history of this blog are included within this post. They are; 'the gait of a bi-curious teen' and 'be-testicled'.
Thank you for taking the time to read this.
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