The Friday Favourites

There’s no point in hiding it any longer. Before we were legally able to purchase alcohol, we drank it every weekend. Somehow. Myself, The Real Edward Wells and an individual who can only be described as sick, Mathew Jones, Jonesy, created our very own drinking club. We called ourselves the Friday favourites, for some reason. We would use older brothers, poor disguises and pure luck to get hold of our fuel, and get hold of it we did, in proportions which still amazes me. If we had turned our efforts in obtaining alcohol to other pressing issues, we may have cured cancer or solved world peace, but instead we drank. A lot. The Friday favourites regaled tales of girls, school and mischief powered mostly by Carling, the unofficial sponsor. We got up to many adventures. There was the time we got caught borrowing wood from a kind gentleman’s wood shed, by his front door. Milking to cure hangovers. Exploding aerosols next to one of our mates family tent, turning the inside into a planetarium like experience. Moth-gate. And the Eclipse firework anthology. Each one is worthy of a post which I may do one day. The Friday favourites will always be with us, in our hearts and at the bottom of every pint.