I'm ready for my ASBO*.

 

(ASBO= Anti-Social Behaviour Order/ Badge of honour for louts, thugs and chavs)

Yes, it all came to a huge climax last week. Melodifestivalen reached its peak and so did our alcoholism. Terese and I had pre-booked seats in the Harcourt Arms which turned out to be seats in a the upper bar with a fridge full of beers and cider and a gaggle of excited gays. Including me. The Swedes were outnumbered 5-1 and we won't even talk about the small number of women in the upstairs bar. And the event kicked off with cheers for our heroes Andreas Johnson, Sanna Nielsen and the Ark, and boos for the tranny (not the actual tranny who was in it a couple of weeks before, but the fat bird with make-up application problems). And lashings and lashings of Tiger beer for us. Indeed, we each had 5 bottles of beer in an hour and a half. Which is not wise. And makes you take photos like this:

 

Well, unsurprisingly the Ark won the Melodifestivalen and will go on to represent Sweden in the Eurovision Song Contest this year. This is probably a very good thing.
And after the show the pub filled with more people who'd not been able to get tickets and had been watching at the nearby Swedish Church. Which is where Johanna, Ivan and Sarah had been. And with the schlager music pumping the party was soon in full swing. So we drank more, talked to lots of people and danced. And sang. And had a brief relax in the Swedish Salongen.

 

And I was being told to get off the chairs by the bar manager. And when the pub was closing, I lead a sing-a-long of "Take Me To Your Heaven", and was told to quieten down by the bar manager. So, song over, we headed off into the streets of London, still singing, me swinging around lampposts and laying in the road to take photos (as you do). Fortunately the girls mirrored my behaviour.

 

Apparently we boarded a bus to Camden, singing "Vagar du, vagar jag" at the top of our voices even though no-one knew the words, and we ended up in Camden's notorious gay bar, the Black Cat. Well, we could have been in church for all the use a gay bar was to me at that specific time. I was neither use nor ornament while Terese and Johanna seemed to be happily carrying on. It was while trying to find the loo that I managed to not find the loo, instead leaning over a railing that gave the impression of a balcony where there was in fact just more roof. And I was rather ill.

I was rather ill for most of Sunday too. Terese was marvellously hospitable and we enjoyed a lazy sunday of hangovers, Charlie's Angels and baked beans on toast.