Thursday, 5 May 2011

A Recipe For Disaster

In the past, on this blog, I have tried to give you the impression that I am an intelligent guy.

That is true – but at the same time I can be a bloody idiot.

How do you make a so-called intelligent Plastic Mancunian into an idiot? There are many recipes; here’s one of them I used a long time ago:


One sober young Plastic Mancunian.
One ridiculous set of clothes that are fashionable only in the eyes of the Plastic Mancunian.
One mirror.
Two other sober young friends of the Plastic Mancunian also prepared in ridiculous clothes.
One ATM card.
Several pints of fine English ale (or lager if none is available)
One Friday or Saturday night.
Several expensive pubs in London.
One very expensive night club in London.
A large group of people willing to dance.
One DJ.
One night club bouncer.
Approximately two hours of cheesy music.
Three young ladies who are well out of the league of the Plastic Mancunian and his mates.
Several cheesy chat up lines.
One stupid idea.
One taxi.
One time machine.


(1) Using the time machine, transport the ingredients back to 1985. It doesn’t matter if the year is 1984 or 1985 – that should be close enough.

(2) Dress the Plastic Mancunian in the set of ridiculous clothes and stand him in front of the mirror until he believes that he is sex on a stick. This should take approximately two minutes.

(3) At this moment, take the pre-dressed friends and put them and the Plastic Mancunian into the first expensive pub in London.

(4) Soak the idiots in a couple of pints of beer.

(5) When the conversation starts to get silly and the three young men start to turn into idiots, transfer them to another expensive pub in London.

(6) At this point, you may need to apply the ATM card, particularly if any of the idiots have run out of cash.

(7) Repeat steps (4) to (6) for several hours until the three young men are fully matured idiots.

(8) Apply the ATM card one more time.

(9) Transfer the three idiots to the very expensive and preheated London night club.

(10) Apply the ATM card again because the idiots didn’t get enough cash.

(11) At this point the idiots may realise that they are about to make a huge error in judgement. If this is the case, liberally apply more beer in another pub. That idea will soon diminish.

(12) Apply the ATM card again if necessary.

(13) Before reaching the next stage, the three idiots should be well-oiled and may even be rat-arsed. Ideally they should all be able to string together a coherent sentence and understand each other – just.

(14) Place the idiots outside the very expensive night club in London at the back of the queue of people who are willing to dance.

(15) Slowly place the group of people into the night club for just enough time to irritate the Plastic Mancunian. Two minutes should suffice.

(16) Before putting the idiots into the night club, make sure that the Plastic Mancunian has been allowed to exchange words with the night club bouncer.

(17) Do not allow the night club bouncer to mutate into a violent moron – that will ruin the recipe. If necessary subdue the Plastic Mancunian with a diversionary tactic; pop the three young ladies into the night club (though they can be applied later).

(18) Once in the night club, apply liberal lashings of lager. Be careful not to overdo it at this stage.

(19) Mix the DJ, the cheesy music and the group of people willing to dance until the atmosphere is HOT, HOT, HOT!!!!

(20) Take the stupid idea and mix it with the idiot that is thriving best in the lager. The best idea to use is Impersonate the Dancer, whereby one of the idiots tries to exactly copy one of the more bizarre dancers for one whole song.

(21) When the idiot has finished dancing, and assuming he hasn’t been attacked by the target of his impersonation, he must select another idiot to impersonate another dancer. At this point it may be necessary to apply yet more beer and if you have any, some Dutch courage.

(22) Repeat steps (20) and (21) until each idiot has played the game or until the threat of violence has reached alarming levels.

(23) At this point, mix in the three young ladies who are out the idiots’ league (if not added already) and liberally pour in as many cheesy chat up lines to add a little spice. My personal favourite is

Hey Doll. Have you got a license for those eyes?


Fancy a snog?

will do if all else fails.

(24) There may be a few slapped faces at this point but that will add to the pleasure; the idiots won’t feel the pain; they should be totally sozzled at this point.

(25) Continue to cook at a high temperature until the idiots start to wilt or the three ladies resort to more extreme forms of violence.

(26) Now transfer the idiots to a taxi, applying the ATM card for one final time if necessary. There is no need to worry about the three young ladies at this stage; they will have disposed of the idiots in suitable fashion. The three idiots will be saying “Yeerrr my bessst mate!” to each other anyway.

(27) Leave the resulting mess to rest overnight.

When you have finished in the morning, you will have three colossal hangovers, no memory, no cash, no egos and lots of embarassment all nicely wrapped up in the stupidity of youth with maybe a little vomit on the side.


The Elephant's Child said...

Oh the memories. I once worked with a youth who said and believed 'it wasn't a good night out, if it doesn't finish with a chuck'.
How did we survive?

The Plastic Mancunian said...

Hi EC,

Ha ha! I don't know how we survived. BTW I am guessing (to a certain extent) what you mean by "chuck".

My mind is boggling...




River said...

I'm kind of glad that my youth was spent with a tractor tyre on the River Murray, a small group of friends and a huge stack of books.
Much cheaper and no vomit inducing hangovers.

The Plastic Mancunian said...

Hi River,

Sounds sensible to me. Those mad days are over, thank goodness, though I still like a pint.




Anonymous said...

Those pick-up lines are so cheesy and a little bit corny....sorry .....hehehe!
But I love how you wrote this----complete with ingredients and recipe.

Mind Of Mine said...

Ha! That ATM ingredient sounds too familiar!

The Plastic Mancunian said...

Hi Bingkee,

Ha Ha - yes they are aren't they?

I've heard loads of others too!




The Plastic Mancunian said...

Hi MoM,

Too true! I've spent a fortune in the past and wondered where it all disappeared too.




Kath Lockett said...

'Chuck' is Aussie slang for the technicolour yawn/on the big white phone to god/the chunder from downunder = vomit.

For a female version add a pair of new shoes that end up with one heel missing; an anonymous guy snogged on the dancefloor but abandoned when your friends gesture that it's time to leave; an ill-advised 3am souvlaki and waking up with your dangly 80s earrings somehow affixed to your sticky, big 80s hair.....

The Plastic Mancunian said...

G'Day Kath,

Ah - of course. We use "chuck" very occasionally too - and chunder - and the big white telephone is often used to call God.

How could I forget the obligatory kebab? The problem is that usually at that time the memory has vanished and you only know that you ate a kebab when you find a huge chunk of unidentifiable meat stuck in your teeth when you wake up.





Mouse said...

And of course now we have the added detail of email notification that "last nights photos were uploaded to Facebook" ...... while you hover the mouse over the link that will take you straight to purgatory!

The Plastic Mancunian said...

Hi Mouse,

Ha ha! That is a much more recent thing. I'm glad that Facebook didn't exist when I was a stupid young idiot.

Now - I am a stupid OLD idiot and, yes, I am on Facebook (twice)! So there is photographic evidence of my stupidity.