Comments on: London Bar Review

By: soulless

soulless — Wed, 11 Jan 2006 18:38:15 +0000

Log. This also explains your bizarre resemblance to Dorothy.

By: soulless

soulless — Wed, 11 Jan 2006 18:15:20 +0000

Log. Your mum is Sophia from the Golden Girls? That explains a lot.

Speedwolf, you’re a genius. Although if I’d known that that show was actually called “Sammy’s Super T-Shirt” I probably wouldn’t have mentioned it.

I’m on imdb you know. That’s real fame, that is.

By: jonesy

jonesy — Tue, 10 Jan 2006 16:33:59 +0000

Tutti Bomowski (the mom in “Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot”) IS the same as your mom, except your mom is spelled Tutti Bumowski. And in England, we say “mum”. And “fanny packs” are bum bags! And “sidewalk” is tom-arr-toe!

By: Log

Log — Tue, 10 Jan 2006 15:39:57 +0000

Check THIS out on imdb! My mum is the same mum as the mum in “Stop or my mom will shoot”. It’s spelled a bit different, but sho-nuff - that’s my mum!

By: jonesy

jonesy — Tue, 10 Jan 2006 15:23:35 +0000

The song “Sammy’s Super T-Shirt” was written and performed by Harry Robinson, who’s also famous for the song “Hoots Mon (There’s A Moose Loose About This Hoos)”

Check it out on imdb

By: Speedwolf

Speedwolf — Tue, 10 Jan 2006 15:03:44 +0000

SAMMY’S SUPER T-SHIRT - There was this kid, right? Called Sammy, and he had a… yes, well. Archetypal childhood Messiah fantasy gave the initially poor, put-upon and bullied Sammy a New Start In Life as the picture on his T-Shirt (which we seem to remember was one of those iron-on tiger’s heads, or something), when rubbed, gave off “magical powers”, due to some accidental chemical spillage incident wiv da shirt. Time stopped, sports day races were won and much mayhem ensued. Eventually, of course, something “went wrong” to make Sammy discard the shirt and “love himself for who he really is”. Or something like that, but that was the dull moral that all the kids always ignored anyway.

From here:
http://tv.cream.org/lookin/cff/

By: soulless

soulless — Tue, 10 Jan 2006 14:28:00 +0000

Every single one of the bars in that list sound superior to CXR.

Or the “Time Frame Bar” as I know it. You know, because the floors are so sticky, everyone is rooted to the spot and they look like they’re running a race but they’ve been freeze framed. Except for one poinsonous queen who is somehow able to glide across the floor, slightly above ground level like the ghouls in Buffy, and can make a Beeline straight for you without your being able to escape.

It reminds me of a film I used to love when I was tiny and wee. I can’t remember anything about it except there was a magic t-shirt with a tiger on it and he was stuck to the spot and his best mate was an Abo who drew a tiger on his t-shirt and then he could run really fast. Can anyone remember what that film was? It’s going to bug me for EVER now.

By: robertdee

robertdee — Fri, 06 Jan 2006 12:55:49 +0000

Or come out to Amsterdam and visit Oggie Broodjewegs, a late night cafe bar open till Thurday every night except Wednesday catering to the post-post-club-bar-post scene. Dress code: 1994. Expect barstaff to call you a “crazy mutherfucka” at the end of every sentence. Bar decor situated on two levels. The Banging Hootfloor is the main dance level shaped like an orange moustache complete with giant bits of cheese and egg. Music style: Cow-House and Drum and Pancake. Expect to pick up plenty of loose 12 year olds in the later stages of syphilitic dementia. Upstairs is for a smoother crowd, knowingly dressed as windmills and supping on treacle black ales served in luminous bumbags. Hot sausages made out of drugs are available till 11am. No toilets as this bar operates a piss where you are policy.

By: spastemizer

spastemizer — Thu, 05 Jan 2006 17:44:38 +0000

Or, we could meet up in Ye Olde Grumpye Oake, a pub run by gentle forest folk, situated in a hollowed out Oak Tree in the middle of a leafy dell. Drinks are flown to you from the bar by pixies, and served in Acorn cups; Goblin bouncers guard the doors, and Fairies flitter about your head and hold your hair back for you whilst vomiting into an upturned toadstool.

When you are ready to leave, if you have had too much Honeymeade, a troll will give you a piggy-back to the nearest stream, where you can catch a leaf to float you home to bed!

The food is a bit shit though.

By: spastemizer

spastemizer — Thu, 05 Jan 2006 17:35:03 +0000

Hmmm, in that case, can we go to ‘Rohypnol Fuelled Bumrapery Followed By Cognac and Cigars’ afterwards please? it’s one of the lesser known but better quality establishments - men and women welcome - plenty of sofas to lounge around on, and all drinks served by shifty looking barmen in tampered-with glasses.

By: Log

Log — Thu, 05 Jan 2006 17:17:08 +0000

I WILL TOUCH UP WHATEVER I LIKE AND YOU WILL LIKE IT

That’s the name of the bar we’re going to, Spastemizer. It’s themed.

By: jonesy

jonesy — Thu, 05 Jan 2006 16:50:06 +0000

Let’s go to Bar Roundabout. You sit on a traffic island, and the bar staff drive around and around in ice-cream vans, holding cocktails out to you in nets. It’s nice. But a bit noisy. And it stinks of petrol. In a good way!

By: spastemizer

spastemizer — Thu, 05 Jan 2006 16:03:22 +0000

YAY! or will it just be us two…? I dont want you touching me up…

By: Log

Log — Thu, 05 Jan 2006 16:00:58 +0000

Comments meet! Anyone?

By: spastemizer

spastemizer — Thu, 05 Jan 2006 15:34:21 +0000

It’s not FAIR!

I want to go for a drink in a pub with you too! Or even in a wine bar.