As the night progressed, the drink flowed and the laughter become loud. I met a mate of Pete's called Lamb. He was a decent bloke, as it turned out, but he had a wonderful imagination. As he didn't know me, nor I him, I was the blank canvas for which he yearned. He was a black belt at judo, you know. And karate. And kung fu. He was a fully qualified ninja a few pints later. Apparently, all the Bond films were based on his actual adventures. I didn't know that.
So, around about this point I started looking for Pete for a way out. He was a couple of tables away playing cards, which may not have been the wisest thing to do. His eyebrows were about halfway up his forehead as he fought to keep his eyelids up. Hmmm. D'you think he's had a couple?
They'd rung last orders about an hour earlier so I decided I'd had enough. I seemed to be smoking 2 cigarettes. Suddenly, there was a sickening thud behind me and I turned in time to see Pete's head bounce on the table. He'll be best stopping playing cards for money now. He's a lad inne? Anyway, another mate lifted him up and brought him round.
Just then, he somehow fixed his bleary eye on me, with my coat on ready to go. " Yer goin' are yer. 'Ang on. I'll gi' yer a lift on me bike. "
" Er, no, yer alright, mate. Think I'll walk. " At that point he was sick all over the playing cards. Another night of sophistication in the world of Pete and Phil.