An Evening with Smokey

30th Oct 2002

An Evening With Smokey


Sat-urr-day! Sat-urr-day! Sat-urr-day! That's right biys, it's everyone's favourite day of the week, and this is Smokey Looney back wance again to tell ya how to get yerself ready for a good night out. I should be chargin ye for this valuable information, so consider yerselves lucky. An I tell ya, they don't call me Smokey cos I eat a lot of salmon! Because I don't.		First things first, ya have to look sharp if ya want to get left in anywhere. So dress for the part. You can't go wrong with a citrus or pastel coloured shirt, cos they'd a be daycent. Lime-green, orange, yellow, purple, turquoise blue: the choice is yours. All are equally stunning. Or, if you're feeling particularly "under the influence", why not go for a slightly more daring item like this one? Guaranteed success with bouncers and ladies!

Every feen knows that ya should wear pants and not tracksuit bottoms, but here's a tip you mightn't be aware of: Don't wear runners. You'd be amazed at the amounta gaffs that wouldn't let ya in. Shiny black loafers are the way to go. You'd get into Fort Knox wearing a pair like these (or a similar pair with a silver buckle), never mind wan of the multitude of pubs in the Oliver Plunkett Street quarter. To say nothing of the effect a sharp-dressed man has on a classy lady!		If you're out for yer hole, as I generally am, it's a good idea to have a shower the day before or even on Saturday itself. Ol' dolls don't just care about looks, they want a "complete sensory experience" like. Smother yourself in half a bottle of posh aftershave soilked from Cash's (or whatever it's called these days). If that's not possible, the entire contents of a can of Lynx will do. Soilk that from anywhere. An while you're at it, soilk a tub or two of Brylcreem for your hair. An some Vicks... eh, if you've a cold like (wink wink!)

I'm a Lover not a Fighter. Actually I'm more of a Smoker, but it's no harm to be prepared for any eventuality. I usually keep a beer bottle concealed beneath me leather jacket. Smashing it before you leave home will save vital seconds when it all goes mental on the Grand Parade after closing time. Could be the difference between makin a sharp exit and gettin hauled in by the shades. Like my imitation narcotics, this comes in handy whenever my hardness is called into question. What the fuck are YOU lookin at?!?		Saturday night will turn into Sunday morning, and with a bit of luck you'll find yourself either easing the comedown with a few tokes (on a sofa in some gaff with a loada feens you've never met before), or safely tucked up in bed (but not yer own, if ya know what I be sayin!). But wherever you are, make sure you don't make a langer of yerself by forgetting the most important item of them all! Good luck feens, and may the Smokes be witcha! Whatever that means.