Channel 4 Students and Friday Night Stars (2/2) By Phil Prethero

(1/2), (2/2),

A handful of customers are o.k though, 'Your friends are fun aren't they!' says another old woman from behind me. It's a wonder she could remember anything as she suffers from Alzheimers, she comes in for Ginger ale and Brandy everyday of the week but has to ask us what she usually gets and asks us to point her the right way home ... The other night when she was in it had been a fancy dress night and some friends had gone as old people and decided to come into the shop on their way out (naturally I missed out on everything and had to work).

The sight of James as an old woman was hilarious, it was only a few hours earlier we had been playing squash and he darted about the court shouting and swearing every time he twatted the ball in anger.

'The old man was funny,' she says. She can't remember what she buys every day of the week, but remembers strangers and what they were wearing 4 days ago! I didn't have the heart to tell her it was actually a lass dressed as a man, I just gave her the lemonade and whisky and sent her into the road. She was right though, Becky dressed as an old bloke complete with a 'tache, walking stick and hunchback even made Alan laugh (shop assistant, 28, of extremely large build - this is Lincoln, gone bald due to mental problems, carries a knife to work).

At the height of boredom the phone beeps and I get an update as to what we're doing tonight and a bollocking for having my phone on me - both just make me want to get this shift done with even quicker. When will this Saturday end? And I don't mean this very one - but this routine of Saturdays that are all the fucking same. In fact the whole weeks the same - uni, work, uni, work, uni, work ...

2008: The Clock Warehouse Pub and Hotel, Derby and The Ferry Inn Pub, Brough, Hull Its 8.30 in the morning, another bastard training course. I meet the class in the bar, do the usual mingling and the usual conversations crop up ('how much does your place take a week?'... 'What's the worst place you've ever managed?' ... 'Hasn't that woman got an unbelievably massive left eye?' ... blablabla). Fuck it - out for a smoke. I've been on so many of these courses they're all the fucking same, as you can probably tell with the instant anger in this paragraph.

The rest of today will be spent examining financial management - wow, what a way to spend a day off! - broken only by the tea breaks when the tutor gets bored (like the chewed up charred remains of a digested barbequed chicken - he's got no-ones attention), which myself and a few other experienced course-goers spend by leaving the room instantly to chain smoke to relieve the boredom and avoid the endless ego-boosting conversations about work.

6 o'clock, and it's back to work at The Ferry - quiz night - get in! Oh, the excitement that will be had tonight. Before that we have the tea-time lot in, it's quite quiet for a change, gets me thinking to people that don't come in anymore (barred, bored, or skint). There are the usual annoying people that pop up now and again, in particular this big woman that comes in purely for the biggest burger we do, which means yours truly will be donning the apron and cooking for her. That just gets me angry, she smells and she's not a nice person at all. It's not that she's large and sweats and smells a little bit - she's just a dickhead.

Have you ever had that feeling where you've been in love, you can look someone in the eyes and no matter who or what's happening around you, you will look nowhere else; this person has your full attention, you savour everything about the moment and can do nothing but smile from the inside of your heart to the outer of your lips, and an instant smell of a particular perfume can you bring you straight back to that moment and you think brilliant - this is happiness, I want nothing else.

Well that's how this person feels about food, she's a twat and she might as well speak with a fucking yank accent and eat food from a bucket instead of coming in here and leaving salt and red sauce all over the table. And who the fuck needs 6 - FUCKING 6! THAT'S INSANE! - sachets of red sauce for a burger and chips? Anyway, credit crunch?! People are buying the cheaper food for their kids in Asda so they can keep up their weekend lifestyle. Go in town this Saturday - it'll be fucking heaving.

Get numerous texts, Steve's up for the gym in the morrow afternoon, Ben and Sean are up for going out (Ben's coming in for a pint in a bit, says Jon might be with him, should brighten the shift up a bit), Tom might be back, no doubt the guitar will be out and it'll be a bad night!

But at the moment - it's Thursday - midweek - nothing ever happens. I never wanted to be stuck in a routine but here we are living for the weekend, when the fuck did this happen? And what do we do at the weekends? As Sean and I discuss over and over, Friday nights a messy one, which means Saturdays a write-off, and Sundays just Sunday. The weekend is spent recovering for the next week. Friday night is where it's at with us at the minute, and it HAS to be spent getting completely pissed and partying - but why? We're living to drink, but we're drinking to live. Sometimes we might not get the culture, and neither do other people, but what does this town have to offer?

It's tempting to be off somewhere, a year ago there was all the potential in the world to avoid everything said to be unavoidable, has that changed? While we're young we've got a reason to live - unlike before there's nothing to write home about when you're already at home. As we'll no doubt sing tomorrow night: 'you'll never watch your lives slide out of view, and drink and dance and screw - because there's nothing else to do' 2009 ? A lot changes in a year - lives can be lived predictably, but fuck knows what's around the corner ...

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