The Big Two Days.

'The Big BBQ' (Click to supersize)

I'm not even going to shock you with the horrors of Friday night, but lets just say it involved Elliot.
That said, we awake Saturday morning looking similar to a pair of hideous slugs, that have been dropped in a vat of salt. Before long Elliot boards the 88, which arrived late. At this point I had no idea what the next 19 hours had in store for me.
However, I meet Hugo and Josh after a lengthily wait at home, and he proudly announces we are getting a lift to stithians skate park. We walk into an abode that I can only describe as a slum, apparently to others it is 'student housing'. We embraced the stench and greeted various scary, if not burly, looking men. Before long we are loping towards transport, with the alpha-male at the wheel, who has a taste for Red Hot Chilli Peppers. I fear at this point that I would pass out at any moment, after indulging in 'The Big BBQ' as a morning wake up. Of course, only now I realise that it does the opposite of setting you up for the day, it drives you into the grit.
The man-wagon pulls up at ASDA and we pick up cheesey bread and Lucozade. The car journey to stithians was riddled with awkward and catatonic silences, but we avoided these whenever we could, by making small talk about said bread/Lucozade.
"This Lucozade tastes alright"
"...."
"Not so sure about this bread though"
"...."

We arrive at stithians, and the sun beats down on us like an oppressive disclaimer. Hugo smelt like a cunting warthog, and my fringe was acting as a mop for my forehead. Except not only a mop, but a faulty one, which becomes drenched and stagnant after a few minutes.
The park was good, all round. It was refreshing to actually ride on concrete smoother than the rocky surfaces of Falmouth for once. We skate consistently for a few hours, then we roar off in the direction of Mabe skate park. Our driver, who's name is still unknown to me, tilts his head back, and makes a bleating noise like Chewbakka as he presses down on the accelerator. Hugo and I exchange nervous glances, and hug our seat belts tighter.
We arrive at Mabe skate park, and ride for a bit. I feel that the men really let themselves go at this point, as they had resorted to hurling racist slurs at the darker member of the group. After a while Chubakka drove us back to Falmouth, whilst demanding petrol money. Out of pure fear, Hugo parted with his well needed cash, and we left, for greater things.

Except no, no, not greater things, but a night full of an inconceivable, slug-like, performance.
No sooner had we rumbled up to Hugo's front door, we are being invited over to Will's, and lets face it, we both new at this point that we had a rough and rocky night ahead of us. Hugo and I, in the style of a log down a hill, roll into the kitchen, which is full of 2nd years. I desperately try and make stilted, shambling conversation with anyone who will respond to me, with little luck. Low and behold, we mount the pavement in the direction of town with the group of people we don't know. Soon enough, the rabble arrive at the Chain Locker, where drinks are brought all round. I had a pint of Magners, courtesy of James, and Hugo a Fosters with dash of lime. With its refreshing, zingy taste on my lips, the others and I pick up a balti curry and head back to the shack. On the way, I thrust my wallet in James's face, and he returns from Tescos with 4 litres of Strongbow.
Hugo was spam inviting everyone in his phonebook around this time, and no other came lolloping through the thick fog but Sorcha. We settle in the kitchen, and the conversations steadily become less stilted.
4 litres of cider later, and me and Hugo are gallivanting round, trying to set fire to a spider in Will's porch. This involves striking a match, and hurling it in the general direction of the roof, before bursting into a fit of childish laughter. I won't bore you with the details of the time we spent in Will's house, but it wasn't long before Hugo, Sorcha and I were sliding through the streets in search of her house. She leaves us with a parting gift of a few slices of dirty bread, and a forceful smack round the back of the head. Nice to see her mature, older sister, roar up in a car, and, at the sight of us, gag.
With heavy hopes of meeting Josh Evans in town on our mind, we set off, in a journey that can only be described as dangerous. And oh, my cunting ass Josh Evans when he is drunk is a sight to bestow upon. We are surrounded, in the heaving streets, by alcoholics, and desperate forty year-olds. Both of which Josh had a fair crack at trying to sleep with. We duck into a nearby Kebab shop, and sit down next to two people I have never seen before in my life. And by the looks in their eyes, I don't think they ever want to see our sorry faces again. Josh has a jab at them, then we join the queue. I order large chips, and sit down at new found table, spilling the contents of my chip box onto the floor, leaving us all giggling like little girls. Still chuckling, and hiding under our arms like primary school children, we start to throw chips at members of the queue, before being warned by the bouncers to;
"Stop it mate, or you're out"
*high-pitched squeal* "Oh yes, sorry sir!"
*girlish laughter*
But, sure enough, we leave, and mingle, like beaten dogs, outside of Remedies. And oh, my God, there were a lot of commas in that last sentence. We meet a man named Liam, who is the manager of The Shake Shop, and he promises us that he will give us discounts at a later date. I notice cool guy that works in Top Man too, and stand directly in front of him, pointing and whispering. The crowd disperses, and Josh bumps into someone he supposedly knows, who claims there is a party above Costa that is 'kicking off'. Our heads do a 360 degrees turn whilst the rest of our bodies stay static in the street, willing to go home. We push our way into the flat above Costa, and instantly are greeted by lanky skater guy from maritine spot. He makes a joke about a hobo, and falls down the stairs, unconscious. I walk to each room in turn, each one thick with a layer of bile. I find a spot to sit down near the kitchen and am asked by a man, wearing a top-hat, to open my mouth. I do as I am told, and they take it in turns to try and throw pineapple down my gullet. I wait there eagerly, like a hungry seal. My eyes widen in panic as I see Josh opening his wallet. He roars back at me, asking if I would like a bottle o' ass, which I decline with horror. Hugo wasn't so wise, and he and Josh neck back one each, as I watch on in a mixture of disgust and fear. Luckily, they suffered no effects of the pill, as it was probably just a worm tablet or something. Things quiet down at about 3:34am, and we head for the exits, as we do so I grab a jumper I found on the banister, and pull it over my head. Josh drags a surfboard that was on the landing halfway down the stairs and leaves it there upon exit. We manage to get halfway up the hill to Hugo's before collapsing in a comatose state in the road. I drift off, not unlike a homeless man, on the street. I awake, unfortunately, and am dragged to my feet. We shuffle in the direction of Hugo's house, a journey which took us over an hour, when it should have taken us a couple of minutes. Scratch at Hugo's front door, and collapse on the icy, bone crunching, laminate flooring. Pass out at roughly 5:03am.
Wake, bleary eyed, yet not hungover, at 8:09am. Collect hat from Will's house and recount night's story to him. Leave for my house and shower.

Blog at approximately 11:44am.