AUGUST DICKHEAD (Part 3)

Oh, you didn't know a Round 3 was coming?
Alright, go on remind yourselves what happened.
Part 1 here and Part 2 here.
Go on then read on...

Playground Dickhead

Look, Chris dressed up and everything.

Notting Hill Carnival is an amazing place. Buses become sound systems on wheels, cops become dance partners, and these guys, well, these guys become Dickheads. I hope you ain't forgotten what Rich did this time last year.

As soon as these guys jumped off Notting Hill Station, they started hitting the drinks. Sainsbury's Basics Malted Scotch Whiskey was the poison of choice on that rainy bank holiday. Chris planned on getting drunk beyond comprehension, he must have been, just before backing his first shot he pauses to make Deeby and Rich say these words...

“Chris, no matter how fucked you get today, I will make sure you get home safe and I will not leave you, I promise.”

For the record, Sainsbury's Basics Malted Scotch Whiskey tastes horrendous, nevertheless, Chris backed most of it before 2:00.

Beyond the usual drunken walking, drunken dancing and drunken “I love you man” statements, it soon became apparent. "Chris. You're drunk beyond comprehension." Deeby would exclaim. Chris would chuck on his shades in a "Deal with it" fashion. Raybans. Two hundred quid. The Showoff.
Chris' first low moment came when the gang decided to stop marauding girls dressed as peacocks for five minutes and have a sit down.

In a similar vein to Cons' nomination earlier this month, they were on a bench in a children's playground. Chris has tonnes of energy so he attempts to befriend complete strangers. He gives them the middle finger as they walk away. He has a go on the monkey bars, then he's disappointed 'cos he's way too tall. He finds logs sprouting out of the floor for children to use then he pretends to hump one.

Yes, there's video evidence. No, you can't see it because, yes, it's way too NSFW for this website.

CUT OUT Dickhead

It's a habit. A bad habit. One that's got him nominated before. The habit has its own friggin' anecdote. But no one expected it to happen at the Notting Hill carnival and certainly not like this.

Jungle is Massive!

Chris was spinning faster that the turn table and General Levy was describing his world.

“Wicked. Wicked. Jungle is Massive!”

...And packed full of people it looked like. Once you were in the heart of the crowd, moving anywhere else was a bit of a challenge. When you're drunk beyond comprehension, personal space doesn't exist and moving about is easy.

Knocking, thumping and bumping his way through the labyrinth of flesh and concrete, Chris gets comfortable swaying sideways like a toddler figuring out how to dance. Deeby and Rich are going ham.

Deeby was wearing Chris' shades and treating them like they were his.  When they weren't on his face they were hung from his collar. When they weren't on his collar they were hung from his mouth. When they weren't in his mouth they were on the face of some random he decided to grind with.

And then, of course, the stupidly inevitable happened. He dropped them. No hanging about, he lunges to pick them up. Inches away from reaching it, some raver kicks them away. Deeby chases after it only to find himself slouched in front of Chris.

“Huh?” Chris wonders he's doing down there. “NO!” Chris figured out what he's doing down there. Another raver kick the shades further away. They chase it. Knocking, thumping and bumping their way through the labyrinth of flesh and concrete, eyes glued to the shades, they eventually merge into the landscape of muddy Air Max's, Vans and Converses.

Chris weren't taking this well, he really liked those glasses. Deeby gave up looking for them after 10 mins. Rich joined in for a little while. Chris was at it for an hour. Rich is blaming it on the Sainsbury's Basics Malted Scotch Whiskey.

Deeby, beyond apologetic, did not expect to see them again. Shock horror; Chris found them. Like they should have expected, Chris found them in pieces. After making several attempts to runaway and be alone, Chris was sat weeping about them for another hour... it became evident his mission was accomplished. Chris was drunk beyond comprehension.

Drunk beyond comprehension

Concerned that he may never get over them, Rich and Deeby bump into old friends and say a quick hello. They turn back to see Chris' latest attempt to runaway and be alone had been successful.

“Where'd he go?”
“Fuck knows. Ring him.”

“I can't my phone's outta juice.”

“So's mine.”

“I had my eyes off him for 10 seconds... if that.”

“We broke our promise, bro.”

“Did we break our promise... Or did Chris cut out?”

Chris Cut Out... The Dickhead.

Dickhead Anecdote #15: Cut Out Chris

 

NOTE:: This anecdote is a continuation of the March Dickhead.

It's Cons' Birthday and it's halloween and he throws a house party and it's off the chain. 

Ultraviolet strobe lights, penthouse views and enough drink to drown a fish in.

Rich is the last one to turn up as usual; The boy's gonna be late to his own funeral, he's excuse'll be because he had to feed the cat or something but the truth will be because he desperately needed to finish watching Breaking Bad.

“You're going on the blog for this.” Chris threaten's Rich every time he turns up late for a gathering which means Chris threaten's Rich every time he turns up for a gathering.

Rich had learned to not let the threat get to him anymore. Nominations had to go through the Board of Directors at DOTY and in this moment nobody cared but Chris, everyone else was in awe of Rich's Adam West Batman outfit.

Hats off to him, he was the only one to get a round of applause as he walked through the door.

Later on in the party (but still relatively early, mind you) Chris is sat on the floor with his legs crossed, his head in his hands and his half full drink by his side, half empty if you really want to know how Chirs was feeling at the time. He was waved. Tidal waved, wavier then a Mexican Wave waved. He couldn't hack it no more. He went home.

“Where's Chris?” Rich inquired.
“He cut out.”
“Oi, If I keep getting nominated for turning up late he should get nominated for leaving early.”

I guess Chris' earlier comment got to him after all. Rich had a point though, Chris was the first to leave at many recent events but upon hearing his argument Deeby and Cons turn to each other and share a look that read “This is the perfect opportunity to aggravate Rich.”

“Naaaahhhh....” The two belter simultaneously.

Growing up in Central London, the gang are well aware of how over-rated a news years party on London streets can be and opt for a house party, unwilling to throw one they let Chris lead the way to his friends place whilst promising them that they'll be girls, a bouncy castle and, hold onto your hats, said girls on said bouncy castle. No brainer; Party of the year.

The gang agree to meet at Deeby's and trot together. Rich was late so they met him at the train station.

“You're going on the blog for this.” Chris threatened.

“Your MUM's going on the blog for this.” Rich replied, imaginatively.

It was a long way north on the Northern line and travelling an hour or more to get anywhere was considered really far away for these Dickheads.

“It'll be worth it.” Chris assured everyone.

To kill the time, the gang talk passionately about the amazing year they just had, they ponder who might win Dickhead of the Year and tell each other they love each other whilst ending every sentence with the words #NoHomo.

In that moment their mothers could have asked “If your gang jumped off a cliff would you join them?” and their reply would be “We ride together, we die together. We're the team. The gang. The Dickhead Gang!”

They get to the house party. Meh, there's a couple of girls. Shock Horror. There's no Bouncy Castle.

It's quarter to midnight, room has been made in the living room for a dance floor, nightclub speakers grace the corners and they also have a UV light. It's shit though. Deeby and Cons do everything they can to liven up the party before countdown but not long after they leave, except for Chris of course.

As they scour the streets of London, they turn various enemies into friends, talk to many girls and urinate on many trees (It's the next best thing after bouncy castles), having the time of their lives.

This also happened to be the same night this happened.

“...And Chris aint here.” Rich notes “Nomination?”

“Nah mate.” Cons laughs.

House party was nothing like this...

The gang's manager had organised a photoshoot with a professional photographer and in an attempt to keep himself looking just as professional, he orders the gang to turn up on time. Rich especially, after which the rest of the gang remind him to switch his clock back from Jamaica time.

It's the day of the photo shoot and Rich is on time.... Well, that shut everyone up. It was also a productive day, the crew had managed to stop off at the photographer's desired locations. Well, all except one. The one photo that had been spoken about never happened.

It was to be a gritty image of the gang stood in a shitty council estate whilst London's glorious glass towers, specifically the shard and the gherkin, loomed over them like the Eye of Sauron. A discussion on London's current state of inequality and political unrest. A photograph that could spark another nationwide riot and instigate a revolution.

“Nah, fuck it.” Chris said. “I'm meeting a mate later.” He left.

The gang were left speechless.

“Oi, I turned up on time for this." Rich declared, "Surely, he's going on the blog for this?”

“Yeah probably.” Deeby agreed as they watched him walk away

On the far left... That's Rich.

Top class Dickhead.