Weekend in Perth: Saturday's tweets explained

@[autumn] Doors at the disco close at 2300 to accommodate football watchers, and open til 0100. So buy your bloody tickets already! #sovt2011

Each year on the Saturday night, there's a disco in the gym. Champions League final was scheduled at the same time and that (along with Grumpy Bear and his wife's absence - those two are big proponents of the disco and usually encourage people along) was keeping the people I know from going to the dance. I was hoping to push people in, but didnae work really. I also switched to the #sovt2011 hashtag when I realised that they were on the Twitter and encouraging the use of that one over #sovt.

@[autumn] Been quiet on Twitter front cos I've been trying to do more useful things, like walking upright and opening eyes to see. #sovt2011

I was told my last tweet on Friday night/Saturday morning was round 0500 and I was roused at 0930 by all the activity round my tent. Yeh, I wasn't so much as hung over when I staggered out of the tent as still drunk. I didn't graduate to hung over until at least 1400. I was so steaming, I didn't even get meself a egg and bacon roll for my breakfast from the burger van that gets parked outside the gym during the whole of the tournament. And I never not eat.

@[autumn] Too much dithering over where to watch the footie - driving me crazy. Probs cos I'm starving!

We were all a bit exhausted by the time diner rolled around and enjoying hearing each other's shit chat a bit too much that we didn't leave the campsite until after 1800 for dinner at a pub and some after-meal football watching. Wot a bunch of morons! At that time of day, we would be lucky to have room to stand in the toilets and watch the match, hip to hip with some stranger. I mean, this is the Champions League Final - biggest football event in the world! As I mentioned in End of season do, someone needed to be decisive about things. Man, did I miss Turtle and Grumps - but don't tell them I said that.

@[autumn] Patrice Evra with his facial hair: channeling Wesley Snipes #doppelgängeralert #championsleaguefinal

Sometimes I look at someone and it just hits me: that dude looks like someone else. And I can't shake it and I have to tell someone. But most of the time, my references are too obscure, odd, far-fetched, or just plain shite to be appreciated by others. So I kinda invented the hashtag #doppelgängeralert to help deal with these moments in my life. And during the game, the Manchester United defender Patrice Evra did look like action star Wesley Snipes. Which is kinda not a compliment.

@[autumn] Pep Guardiola is a bit of all right, innit? Looking particularly fine in that suit. #championsleaguefinal

Wot can I say? I heart men in a nicely cut suit. So sue me. I forgot to attach the hashtag #phwoar - another one that I use a lot on the Twitter. I just love that word. It's ridiculousness rather suits my silly behaviour and comments over these objects of my affection.

@[autumn] I'm alone at the disco. Poor me. This is when I miss Xxxxxx Xxxxxxxxx's manic dancing. #sovt2011

That blacked out name is the Grumpy Bear. When he gets shit faced, he becomes a violent dancer. That was how bad that disco was - I was wishing for Grump's thrashing manoeuvres to make the shite music bearable.

@[autumn] Yes, as I've just explained to an astonished person, I'm *not* playing at all AND I'm in a 3-man tent on my own. Indulgent! #sovt2011

For reasons I have explained previously, I don't like playing volleyball at Perth. Maybe one year I'll get a sash or a button explaining my philosophy: I'm here for the booze and the banter. That answer usually gets a response of Fair dos from any right minded Scot.

@[autumn] No longer alone at disco - the lovely Xxx saw me sitting on me own and took me into her fold. Too bad the music's still rubbish! #sovt2011

This lovely girl came up to me when she saw me sitting on my own and insisted I sit with her and her friends. She practically pulled the chair out from under me and dragged me to her table. A really lovely thing to do. So clearly, she wasnae Scottish or English. My dear, dear Scots, please don't think I'm slagging you off completely. If a Scottish person saw me sitting there, they would have probably come up to me and had a few funny words with me - definitely. But then they would have pissed off and left me there on me own. Cos asking some stranger to join your group, which would undoubtedly only be comprised of people one would know from infancy, is just a bit... forward, innit? Like that lone person's vulnerability and slight desperation might rub off and infect you. Or worse, you might actually have to have a real conversation. Cos, as much as I love Scottish banter, a real convo is pretty damn hard to come by.

@[autumn] Xxxxxxx: "I'm showing some restraint tonight. I'm going to stop drinking at 0300 or 0200." #shitchat #sovt2011

This was said by the Faroshian, who is from the Faroe Islands. Actually, people from there are called Faroese. But because I'm a dick, I obnoxiously call him Faroshian and luckily for me, he has a good sense of humour about it. There used to be a guy in the club from Monaco and I used to call him Monockan cos I'm an arse. I still don't know wot to call them though. I was right to label this shit chat cos this kid was still awake when I went to bed at 0330.

@[autumn] 'Boom shake the room' has played. Thus, the #sovt2011 disco has finally fulfilled its destiny. Every. Fucking. Year.

Yes, every year that I've been there (and even prior to that, according to Grumpy), this song is played. It's not like it's even the best song in the DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince canon - that, of course, is Summertime. Other songs that must be played: Don't stop me now by Queen; the Grease megamix; The Proclaimers' I'm gonna be (500 miles). I'm fairly use the the shitty music people prefer here, but I somehow cannot comprehend the inclusion - nay, the insistence - of Boom shake the room. Macca, who has been to her fair share of Perth discos and knew the score, retweeted this comment.

@[autumn] 'Footloose' brings out the worse in people. #sovt2011 .

Yeh, I forgot to mention this little ditty. When this song comes on, it's like a siren to all previously in-control people to lose their fucking minds. And everyone's in perfect unison, as if choreographer showed everyone all these elaborate group dance moves, with kick dancing, the doing of the Carlton, shuffling and the chicken leg dance. All of which, when put together, looks absolutely nothing like this video. There is also always a lot of people who somehow decide to do an imaginary jump rope. Wot did I miss? Was this in the film or something?!