Ben happens to be one of a few members of the Thekla work force collective that truly loves working in the cloakroom and to make things more confusing, he's not even a retard.
This picture was taken on the night of a very special occasion, more commonly referred to as a night off. Ben is in some sort of band, I'm not sure of the genre as music sounds all the same to me but I proud to declare its not Shitstep.
O and FYI, we don't get such joys of wifi in the cloakroom, so what Ben is doing with a mac is anyones guess. *Cough* porn *Cough*
Anyway, the night was all that one can expect from a Bristolian Monday, I wore a fox's head and an aquaintance of mine, whom lives in London came down, her name is Georgia and she is a make-up Artist, but a real one, she actually gets paid.
As usual, the American Apparel workforce collective made an appearance. American Apparel staff are unlike normal staff, for they hang around in prides. They usually discuss fashion atrocities, like fat chicks in lyrca. They're less fashion police, more Fashion Nazis.
The night reached conclusion and I was too blissfully intoxicated to really consider any sensible scheme of getting home and Tabi always disappears way before she has the chance to not invite me back to hers, though to my delight, I stumbled across Joseph, who was ever so kind to invite me back to this flat or something, I must have said have agreed for the next thing I knew, Joseph was chasing a Russian through a window which led someplace, since.. you know, doors are so 2009.
Unfortunatley, the Russian was not a metaphor for a white Rabbit, and Joseph is no Alice, thus no wonderland awaited the other side of the window pane. However, there was a flat, and there was a bed with red satin sheets that I slept in. Joseph didn't sleep, short people dont need as much energy I suppose.
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