nut buffet

Last night was a feisty downer. Took my board over to Charlesgrove House in South Ken for the launch of Boat, the revamped Face mag. Remember that retro-dad? Thought not. Anyway, they’ve hooked up Marc Almond and Alan Brazil to edit the nut-themed first issue, but the free chilli morsels they’ve plastered to the front gave me the heads up that Boat is gonna be more Loaded than Gnome.

Charlesgrove was teeming with the usual mix of minor European royals, hip Ken pushers and fey electro-boys. Precog alerted me to another dull night for Archer; that is until I spied Carrie Gravenspine looking fitter than a fistful of cocks. Carrie is the most attractive person in the entire universe; it is illegal to speak her name in her native Belgium where they refer to her only as “The Scottish Play.”

I approached Gravenspine with trepidation, I could almost make out her famous shoulder tattoo, John Dee’s Monad replete with headphones spinning some serious vinyl (Johnny Cadbury maintains that the track is “My Adidas” by Run DMC). Her red hair and Bowie-esque eye-colour mix up caught me off guard. Desperately reaching for a witticism or comment of genius, I noticed that Carrie was sporting a Taxi Bag (free gift with last month’s Gnome: hand-embroidered by David Byrne).

I had an avenue.

“Sick bag” quoth I. “So yr filming with Simon Poitier and the Jaunts on Tues?”

“Where’d you hear that? Friendster?” She shot a withering look at Cadbury (he’s been with me all along but his presence in the narrative served no purpose ‘til now).

Bad start. Nervous, twitching... unlike Archer. I slapped Cadbury in the face. Not even this usually sure-fire upper worked. Carry on convo...

“How come we couldn’t get you to present the Messiah award at this year’s Golden Gnomes?”

“Oh Archer, please fuck off.”

And with that she was gone.

I slouched off in the direction of the bar, ordered a pair of Chino Blowers and tucked into the nut buffet.

Balls.

Archie x