drinks with tony

i went for a drink with an old mate of mine, Tony, last night in soho. Hadn't seen him in years and he give me a call Tuesday out the blue. Met him at some poxy bar near Berwick Street. One of them poncey gaffs that don't sell pints - just bottled lager. straight away i'm thinking i'll give it 30 minutes then i'm fucking off to the grapes - there's a quiz on tonight as well. Tony's already sitting down when i get there and he's looking well different. He's lost about 3 stone in weight and he's wearing leather fucking trousers. After about 30 minutes, me drinking bottles of some (nice as it goes) japanese beer, Tony drinking spritzers, (times have changed) , i'm bored out of my skull with Tone. to be fair he was never the kind of bloke to dazzle you with banter but it's just if anything he's gotten worse. after about an hour a couple more blokes turn up and join us at the table. one of the blokes is called Norman and he keeps rubbing Tone's leg. then it hits me. Tone's a bender. jesus. what a turn up. oh well, live and let live i suppose, but i didn't hang about. made it to the grapes for last innings. and some good news. they cancelled the quiz. it's now on tonight. lovely.