London Weekend with The Lounge Kittens

Ok so just got back from a totally awesome weekend in London with two of our besties Doug and Abi. Doug had managed to bag some tickets for the launch party of the Kittens’ new album.

We decided to airbnb it again as we’ve had pretty good success doing that so far. Unfortunately there seems to be a few people using airbnb as an estate agency.

I won’t say the “apartment” was bad that would be unfair, I mean if I had to guess, I’d say probably only a handful of people have committed suicide there.

The flat per se was ok but honestly man, it was as if interior design had called in to work sick to come here and hang out in its pyjamas, eating cheesy wotsits in front of the TV in its underpants.

And all for only £300 for two nights! Samantha pointed out to me that where we normally stay for a cheap getaway, citizenM, would have probably cost twice as much for all four of us. I in turn pointed out that at citizenM there was free Wifi, a comfortable kingsize bed with Egyptian cotton that didn’t smell a bit like an old person’s armpits and a veritable cornucopia of pornography on the widescreen TV thus making it at least 11 times as good.

Anyway after a few beers I stopped caring and we were soon off to the show.

It was a meet and greet type affair where we got to chat with them and take our picture.

The Kittens were in good form and very funny and after a brief interlude where we could go and grab a bite to eat we came back to the venue for the show proper. If you haven’t heard what this extremely talented A capella band do, you definitely should, they’re unlike anything else out there at the moment.

The whole thing culminated in a bit of a boogie on the dance floor to some tried and tested classics.

Day Two

saw us bumming around Covent Garden and South Kensington looking at the mime artists and generally hanging out of our arses.

Had a nice Crepe at the Kensington Creperie; I had the Tartiflette, muffin face had the Chorizo, we all had a very bad hangover.

To remedy this we headed over to Scarlet’s bar, a quirky, kitsch number over at Covent Garden. Where we indulged in a little hair-of-the-dog activity. Damn I love Margaritas. But I love them more when they’re served to me in a glass skull.

Samantha had got tickets for the show over at the Cafe de Paris Cabaret. It’s a great little venue and the show was a fantastic mix of good old fashioned burlesque performers and some more modern acts such as Chris Cox, the self-proclaimed “mind reader who can’t read minds”. He is seriously funny by the way.

Over after-dinner drinks, Doug showed Samantha and me the joys to be had with snapchat. I know, I know, you’re thinking jesus carbface, why don’t you tell us more about these avant garde developments in smart phone applications. Ok, there are four year olds who are more ahead of the curve when it comes to this shit but to be honest it just rarely interests me. It’s moronic, it’s imbecilic, it’s bloody highly addictive is what it is.

Who knew that morphing your face into some grotesque combination of yours and your wife’s features could be so entertaining. On a densely packed train over a period of about 3 and half hours Samantha revealed herself to be hopelessly addicted to the app.

She literally couldn’t stop selfie-ing and then moments later, guffawing like a mad woman. I think people thought I might be her carer.

Anyway I think we can all agree now, that in a world full of sporadic violence from terrorists, famine, homophobia, racism and Justin Bieber, if laughter is truly the best medicine, then the cure almost certainly comes in the form of snap chat:



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