My name's Phil. You might remember me from a time when this blog wasn't updated once in a blue moon. Listen close, because today we're going to talk about some wacky things which were observed last night.
To set the scene, Mendel invited us to a Pub just off Picadilly Circus to watch the France v Portugal game. This pub was called "Callahans", and as the name might suggest it was an Irish pub, but this Irish pub was interesting for one certain reason: It was filled to the brim with french people.
Now this sort of struck me as strange. You have a traditional Irish pub, in the middle of central London, filled to the brim with French people… If you can find some correlation there you're a better detective than me, and as you all know I pride myself on having the detective skills of a thin as a rake Batman.
So the game progresses and the French win. This is great, as it seems that they really know how to throw a party – a theme which Cal will be able to expand upon when she posts her recount of her trip to Paris. They start dancing around, singing their songs, and doing things that people who are really happy do. This is all cool.
Things peter down a little and Cal and I decide to head off. We leave the pub, head around the corner to Picadilly circus and see this:
Well maybe not exactly this. Try to imagine the fountain with about fifty euphoric french people climbing all over it and singing their songs. They had even climbed to the very top.
"Now Phil." I hear you say "What's so wacky about that? That sounds pretty cool".
And to that I say "Stop interrupting me while I'm telling a story. I'll get to that in a moment".
So we have the fountain swarming with people, but special mention should go to one of the chaps who managed to climb to the very top. Not content with drawing the now gathered crowd's attention by the climb itself, he pulls down his pants and proceeds to wave his little napolean around.
This puts a cap on our wonderful evening. Lovely. 🙂