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Olympic Opening Ceremony

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Before I tell you about the Judge I had to make a quick comment about the opening ceremony. Apart from James Bond and the Queen jumping out of a helicopter I just thought, someone is going to get fired. It was pitiful. You know it’s bad when they’ve got children jumping on the bed and more wheelchairs than Health and safety permits circling a molehill type structure. They brought out the big guns like Rowan Atkinson and JK Rowling and Paul McCartney and …..Oh yes internationally renowned Dizzee. What I didn’t get was the whole ode to social media. How did the guy call a girl to say he had her phone then end up snogging her in front of the world? Who was the Diversity consultant who insisted on Asians and Blacks in the Industrial Dickens dance off and a mixed race family in the Social Media mess? I just didn’t get it

Of course my lack of enjoyment wasn’t helped by being at Veranda bar in Brixton where the signal for the TV was temperamental at best and one of the bartenders kept having to give the loose wires  a good old shake to get the signal back. What nonsense is that!! This is one of the most televised events of the year after the Jubilee I’m sure . But alas Veranda is one of those places you know to go for food but not for much else.

Bits I loved was the Queen seemingly tweeting or sleeping as United Kingdom team came around. Bloody hell how long was the country parade! And according to that there are hardly any black people in Zimbabwe and South Africa – my favourite country was the Independent Athletes who tried to cobble together a dance off last minute and failed but were the most enthusiastic. Some of the athletes looked tired just walking around or holding the flag which doesn’t bode well for their performance.

I also wasn’t sure why Muhammed Ali was brought along. Let the man rest people. Surprised they didn’t helicoptor in Mandela. I loved David Beckham and Steve Redgraves serious torch exchange in the bobbing boat but who lit the torch? Some random people in black tracksuits. What was that about? KMT.

Wardrobe is also going to get fired. White tracksuits with gold shoulder pads for the British Team. That’s just cruel when you know some people will never see a medal let alone a gold.

Anyhoo the Games have begun I guess. I now have to navigate my way around London avoiding the cycling in my area. Have a glorious day people!

© Chelsea Black

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Jewel Bar part 2

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So our new semi friend Leonardo was about to leave when he realised that he had lost his phone. We looked on the table but it wasn’t there. I suggested that he asked the tequila soliciting chick he had been chatting to for ages. She looked like she might have taken it just to get him to leave her alone. But no, Leonard decided that we had it. And not just us but the 6.1 hulky Nigerian who was part of our motley crew. We were 8 strong by now 5 women and 3 men and yet….he went for the biggest guy there? And him so short? I’m guessing alcohol makes even the stupidest man brave. So he accused Alfie of taking his phone, words were exchanged which I couldn’t hear over the awful music and then before I knew it they were dancing. You know the ‘Hold me back’ dance that guys do? So I help back Alfie, almost breaking a nail and eventually it calmed down. But then one of the Kent boys comes over and asks to talk about it calmly with Alfie. Alfie eager to clear his slandered name goes into the corridor leading to the toilets…not more than a minute later fists are flying, the manager and bouncer are up there splitting it out and I’m really worried about losing a hair extension in the affray so I’m holding Alfie back but I’m also trying to keep a distance. I don’t think Kent boy can be trusted with braids near him.

Jewel Bar chuck the Kent boys out and we go back to our night out. Then Madame Attitude spills a drink on me and gives a sharp sorry when I point it out. Drunk on lust or just being a bitch? I decide it’s time we all head out because this night is not worthy of a black cab. I’m also starting to have my concerns about Alfie who seems to like a fight a tad too much for my nerves to deal with.

As we leave the waitress comes over and says I haven’t paid the bill. I point out to her that I paid in advance and I didn’t even use it. She insists I come back and asks another member of staff to check. Isn’t it there on her clip board? Apparently it is but she needs someone to check as she is clearly quite stupid. The other waitress is equally as clueless and they call the manager as I stand there seething in my coat. What is wrong with businesses these days? No decent customer service. When you book a table you take card details and a deposit. You aren’t without recourse. So the manager comes and explains that I didn’t even spend all of the deposit and that I’m free to go. Yes I too was starting to feel like this was prison. The waitress tried to apologise for her high handed approach but I walked off. I didn’t want to be in potentially the 3rd fight that night. My hair couldn’t take it.

So sadly for me that’s another place in the west end I won’t be frequenting again. But worse than that the next time a drunken person tries to sit on a table I reserve I’m going to tell them to sling their hook.

Have a lovely day all!

© Chelsea Black

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Jewel Bar part 1

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So last night I organised an event at Jewel Bar Covent Garden. I really should have known that it was going to be fraught with issues because;

a)      It’s in the West End on a Friday

b)      The woman was uber excited about Charlie from Kiss FM playing there. Who? The breakfast show she explained with a squeal. Who is he? A friend kindly explained to me that Charlie wasn’t the pop dj I thought it was but a woman from Essex who played more RnB.

But anyway I’m nothing if not a trier and the deposit for an area wasn’t ridiculous.

I get there early and a couple get there earlier. At least it’s clear from their body language that they want to be a couple but for now they’re playing the work colleagues role. I’ve met him before but never her and immediately I’m getting some negativity from her. Why chica, you have the man and yes he’s hotter than Morris Chestnut but he’s smitten with you. At this point I want to lecture her on chilling the F out but others arrive and I forget about Madam Attitude.

The couple keep disappearing for hours on end and I’m just tired of being their bag watchers as they snog off in corners. At least I hope this is what they’re doing. I’m semi enjoying myself although the music Charlie the girl is playing is definitely not RnB. It’s that Dance crap.

I interrupt this to say that some Dance music is the cruellest thing ever. You start off with an RnB or pop song that is well loved by all such as Beyonce then you murder it with some dance track remix crap that no one but uncoordinated men like. You all know who I mean. The out of towners. Not the straight from workers who understand the subtle nuances of socialising in London but those that tend to go out to the same one club every week because it’s the club they’re known at. Like Oceana.

This night we were entertained by a crew of guys who must be from Kent (I say Kent as Essex guys have a twee bit more hair products added to their ensemble) who were dressed in white trainers, jeans and a colour board of blue polo shirts from Le costa, Ralph Lauren or maybe even Polo. I can’t really tell the difference. The cool drunken small one who I immediately knew was the female puller we called Leonard di Caprio. Women were happy to speak to him but less so his friends. Maybe because his polo shirt was black?

Leonardo kept resting at our table. This didn’t bother anyone as it was clear that he had drank more alcohol than his vertically challenged frame could handle.  But this was a decision I was to come to regret.

Now where is part 2 of this story?

© Chelsea Black

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