My mate The Legend is back from his first nine weeks of basic training in the Royal Navy. He’s had to be very well behaved over that period, and he’s doing his damnedest to make up for lost time. Please note that, as usual when reporting on the Legend’s activities, I’m not condoning them; I just tell you what happens.

On the day he got back, we went out for a beer. He’s been virtually tt for over two months, and is hence a bit out of practice. A very few drinks in he was wasted, and pretty much incapable of speech unless it involved chain expletives. Before he lost it, he did manage to tell me some amusing anecdotes, and describe some of the characters in his intake, including the intriguingly named Windowlicker. He himself has become known as Toto, because he’s from South Africa. Some of the other pseudonyms were rather more scandalous, but that’s the armed forces for you.

Things went from bad to worse. Sunday he was supposed to have a hot date, but he got stood up, which was probably all to the good, because when I bumped into him he was all over the shop again. He managed to redeem himself on Tuesday, when another hot date actually showed up, and he turned to drinking Coke instead of premium lager and Jagerbombs.

Monday was a bit of an event for him, since he was off his trolley again. Things took an unfortunate turn when he retired hurt to his hotel room. Since this is the hotel in which the redoubtable Anastasia works, prospects looked dangerous, and so it transpired. She recruited another female staff member, and they set about making mischief. The timeline here is a bit uncertain, since his recollections are sketchy and he’s had to piece things together.

The Legend (often pronounced Leg End) awoke from a stupor to find himself with a moustache drawn on his face in marker pen, liberal applications of Marmite and shower gel in various places, and his jeans and jacket pockets filled with foamed peach puree (ingredient for some of the poncier cocktails the hotel serves in a vain attempt to make itself upmarket). He was also strapped to his bed with bandages from the first aid kit.

After freeing himself, he not surprisingly decided a shower was in order, then he crashed out again. He awoke to find himself wrapped in masking tape (the hotel recently had a ‘refurbishment’ ha ha), and for reasons known only to himself he decided it would be a good idea to go out into the corridor. Naked apart from the masking tape, he contrived to lock himself out, and had to rampage around the (fortunately deserted) premises to find Anastasia and her partner in crime, and get a pass key.

As I said, the timeline is somewhat uncertain but Anastasia’s mate, Amelia, recorded a lot of events on the Legend’s own mobile phone, and CCTV footage from the hotel is available. I know.

Young people today, eh? Tsk.

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