Derv didn’t choose to go,
Derv didn’t want to go,
Derv made sure everyone knew.
Good old Derv.
Like every colleague who has gone before, Derv sent out the obligatory e-mail notifying the world and his wife that he had selected a suitable venue and date for an evening of frivolity, dancing and vol au vents. The internal e-mail system was playing up that day and instead everyone received an e-mail saying it was planned for an Irish pub on St Patrick’s Day.
The question of the night came from the self confessed Darwin lookie-likie, Antoine, when, after being told how big the whole rack of ribs were, he proceeded to enquire what sort of size the half rack of ribs would be.
The evening’s drinking began with gusto, in said Irish pub, and it was surprisingly busy. Drinks orders at the bar were heavily delayed due to most orders of drinks consisting of 15 pints of Guinness that at times seemed to have the viscosity of tar.
After a hard fought couple of rounds a decision was made to move onto the second most Irish licensed premises in the area, so our party duly made a bee-line for TGI Friday’s (despite the fact it was a Thursday).
Once we had commandeered one whole side of the bar many took about the “who can buy the girliest drink challenge” which I believe was finally won by Derv. Chuckles, a visiting drinker from another team was great value for money especially when he turned his Casanova charms towards the young bar maid.
Chuckles- “Hiya! What’s your name?”
Grace- “Grace.”
Chuckles- “Tracy? That’s a beautiful name, I like Tracy.”
Grace- “My name’s Grace.”
Chuckles- (moment’s hesitation) “Grace, that’s a nice name too!”
But it’s Thursday!... … So what, we’re pi55ed!
Where better to end a night/morning than in the realms of the cheese room at our club of choice. After gaining admission and filtering our way to the scene of my previous forays into dancing with Jim, we set about lighting up the dance floor. (Which did actually light up!)
Across a crowded room, our eyes met… it was then we realised that another team were out socialising, and a mock dance-off soon followed. We were greater in numbers and so much more, and our piece de la resistance was our linked arm Irish jig which blew away all on-comers.
I vaguely remember doing the fox-trot with a Skipper I shall code name as the Silver Fox and later clearly recollect the moment during a particularly energetic bout of dancing with Briggsy, I clouted a nearby reveller with my sharply angled elbow. She stumbled away clutching at her head attempting to retrieve her hair clip from the crater now evident in her cranium. As I, in the best possible taste, proceeded to mock her by flailing all my limbs around in a “Come-any-closer-you’ll-get-more-of-the-same” kind of dance.
Soon enough the music stopped and we thanked the DJ/Vicar for his fantastic musical accompaniment to our evening, in the well accustomed way of moaning loudly as the light came up. We then stumble from the dance floor and traipsed down and out into the cold, brightly lit streets searching for our transport home.
Derv lasted the night and all present appeared to have a good time. Flip stayed sober enough to keep his eyesight this time and I managed to avoid any photos of me in make-up.
He shall be missed, but no-one will ever let on.
The Night In Pictures
As the sun sets...
Never ask an Oompa-Loompa to take your photo
Derv worries as someone touches his pint
Chuckles moves onto his next vic... lucky lady
Derv with his drink, that he said he was "holding for this lass that just went to powder her nose"
As Dazza tried to leap over the organ grinder's monkey he realised he hadn't taken into account the hairy little chaps fez
Briggsy attempts to revive a baby chaffinch
Our dance troupe receives the thumbs up from the judges as we win the dance off
Derv. Photogenic as ever.
Same to you Derv
3 comments:
bye bye derv! Did the baby chaffinch survive ? The lipsticks safe in my habdbag!
That's where I left my drink ... I just went to powder my nose ...
TTFN
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