A message from the past

As I awoke screaming in pain yesterday evening I found a note from my arch nemesis Past Steve. It seems that handsome devil took my body on a wild ride the night previous. My head was pounding, mouth dry and I was very confused as to my surroundings. I was clueless. What had happened? Was I dead or just suffering from an epic hangover? I attempted to recall what had happened the previous day to leave me in that state, this is what I could remember.

11.00 – Woke up and had shower.
11.30 – Enjoyed a healthy breakfast of Frosties and a gentlemans cigarette.
12.00 – Proceeded to the pub to meet The Scarlett Pumperknickle to watch Manchester United bitchslap Arsenal.
12.01 – Pints.
16.00 – Returned home with beers for the party later in the evening.
18.00 – Party begins.
18.01 to ??? – Scene Missing.

I gather that Past Steve bumped in to his favourite pal Drunk Steve. The results are usually okay but this was different, this was no ordinary hangover. I slept the entire day away. Luckily Past Steve left me this note.

“Dear Future Steve,

My bad. Seriously, my bad. It seems I performed a whoopsie daisy on your usually well functioning chiseled body.

I am writing to you to apologise but also to fill you in on why you feel like an infant after a savage beating…underwater in space, on fire. It escalated quickly last night and I may have had eighty six too many pints. But in my defense some of them were bought for me by ugly well wishers! Its hard to refuse a pint isn’t it?

The evening began innocently enough to be fair. I watched 3 football matches over the course of the day and loved it. When I got home a FIFA challenge was thrown down and I had to defend our world title. We remain undefeated and we are still the reigning World Champion of the house. “World Champion.” Sounds good doesn’t it?

One of your opponents tried to steal the belt but don’t worry…I took care of him with a shot with the steel chair to the back of his thieving head. Smash!

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Still your World Champion.

After reclaiming my stolen belt I made my sexy way through the streets of Galway and met some of your friends at a gig. The band were god-awful and I started a “No more tunes chant”. A few people joined in before we were roundly booed by the disgusting scum in attendance. Shower of bastards. I turned to beer to pass the time as the group of hipster idiots on stage played terrible covers of atrocious songs. Four grown men playing lady gaga music…it was hell. I nearly bottled the lead singer when they started playing Mr.Brightside by the Killers but I refrained as I didn’t want you waking up in prison. Due to your movie star good looks the other prisoners would rape the flip out of you. I don’t need that on my conscience.

I spend the rest of my evening pointing and laughing at the little Nancyboys wearing “The Uniform”.

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The uniform of Irish and UK “men” nowadays.Grown men wearing purple pants and kiddies t shirts. Apparently looking like an infant dressed for his first trip to the beach is fashionable now? Bucket and Spade sold separately.

I made my way home at around 3am after turning down a variety of desperate advances from the whores lovely ladies in the pub. When I got home the house was full of people drinking so to avoid being anti social I joined in. My bad. An epic party ensued and we blared cheesy music long into the night. Nobody caught on fire so that’s good? I think I made it to bed at around 7am absolutely wasted. I hope this clears things up and at least now you know what happened to your body. Once again, I’m sorry.

Your Pal,
Past Steve (Well, by the time you read this I will be in the past whereas at the time of writing I am Present Steve. I’m sure you’re as intelligent as you are beautiful so I guess you figured that out?)

That sexy ragamuffin has ruined my Sunday again. Ohhhhhhhhhh you! Now I’m off to puke gracefully into the sink, goodbye friends.



About thecityfathers

We sit around all day stroking our beards, clucking our tongues and discussing what's to be done with this Homer Simpson
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