the waltzer experience! :w: 
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week 42 : 16 october 2000

Aoife and Nessa Kirsty and Janet Etain, Louise and Shirley

Last few nights out at the Duke:Clickable! Aoife and Nessa; Kirsty and Janet; Etain, Louise and Shirley.

 :w:

QUOTE OF THE WEEK:
Moose: Over the phone
"Hi Waltzer, it's Moose."

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The Waltzer Experience is a weekly culture website which is edited and maintained by Alan Wall.

© 2000 Alan Wall

 News

Business Project Nearly Finished

The project that we just won't go away is nearly finished. This is good news for anyone who is still working on it, and may be a surprise to anyone who has left and was working on it from the start, all those months ago!

Well the project took a long time due to the fact that we were getting to grips with Flash at the time. It doesn't reflect on anyone at all. I think a great job was done by all. There will be a bit of a party when it's over, no doubt.

Cut and Paste

Next week Laura leaves us, so if any of you would like to catch up, why not come along to the drinks?

 Top 10

Underage Drinking Spots of the early nineties

By Mark Jordan

10 - Fibbers

A dark heaving den of Gomorrhan iniquity, leatherclad handmaidens of sin strolling at Beelzebubs side as you spend that fiver on a pint of Stumpy Johns and ten Sweet Afton. Yes, Fibbers was all that Bosch promised and the 1.50 entry fee before 8pm was the economic alternative to the gauntlet of tracksuits next door in McGraths. The Lebanese style rioting afterwards was an added bonus.

9 - The Zoo Bar

A Mecca for over-monied daughters of southside magnates. The highlight of the evening would always be when the smoothy barmen coaxed some innocent nubile onto the bar in order to pour Kahlua and Creme de Menthe onto her midriff. Chattier customers were allowed to lick it off. If only our parents knew...

8 - Bruxelles

First time I was in here I was three. The next time I was seventeen. Absolutely nothing had changed. The worn sweaty felt on the pool table, the cracked tulips of rancid ale, the insolent rockers lurching back and forth to Hawkwind. It was Lemmys garage at Christmas and we loved it.

7 - Allens

From the dizzy heights of Bruxelles, we would always retreat to the dark, tepid corners of Allens in Celbridge. An eye-opener at 16, these quiet shores had neither bouncers nor standards, just a really decent pint of Guinness and chess boards on the bar. The black nectar flowed, detritus was spouted and all was cosy. Pity they ripped it apart and turned it into a yuppie scumhole. But hey, what's new pussycat...

6 -William Tell

Situated directly opposite the equally decadent yet sadly defunct Bartley Dunnes, this was the best place to kiss Gothic princesses and be forced to smoke Bord na Mona's finest. The Tell was always the velvet glove followed by some tough love, a crap pint of some muck that made your ears pop as you tried to neck it without vomiting and a Gard asking you how old you were. Yes. A great little two-up-two-down of debauchery. A much missed venue.

5 -Leinster Arms

Trivia: Bob Dylan had a pint in here back in 1992. The Leinster Arms could be savage, a veritable timebomb waited for you every Friday as the pillocks from Lucan pumped themselves up to take on the mullyas from Maynooth and the divvies from Celbridge just got caught in between with their mouths open. Think balconies. Think bad cider. Think Begbie before he was but a twinkle in Welsh's eye.

4 -Ryevale Tavern

If you made it past the bouncers you were in for a great night. A teeming pool of grunge-u-like honeys, all at different levels of inebriation were there to make you feel that this would be like Kurt Cobains gaff if he fell in with Hugh Hefner. The cold however kept you moving and talking. In the days before Tekken, you had to make do with the real thing as Leixlip ninnies kicked each other up and down the main street.

3 - The Springfield

Negotiate traffic Frogger style. Then you had the bouncers. A trio of absolute morons, these buds would question everything about you: age, level of sobriety and lineage. B1: "Who's the dog?" M: "That's my girlfriend!" B2: "And who bred you poodleboy?" B3: "Urp. Grrr." To which there is no correct answer. Pre-John Woo, these sons of Onan had perfected the art of slo-mo balletic ejection.

2 - Brophys

I'd never drunk. I'd never gotten laid. I'd just got 9 honours in me Inter. I was happy and I had a fundamental right to do what 15 year olds do on these occasions. All the essential prerequisites for an evening of trouble. I was handed me first pint. The rest has pride of place in my own personal pantheon of shame.

1 - Norris's

Oh Christ. Unless you're from Celbridge, you can't possibly hope to comprehend the levels of cruelty this place could inflict upon the body. Barstaff from Hell, the dodgiest disco and a seething swelter of ratty, beered-up miscreants who'd let off teargas on the dancefloor just to have something to dance around. But the craic was always good so long as you managed to avoid the gaze of one of the many Nimrods desperate to prove to his new filly what an amazing scrapper he was. Well I mean Celbridge is the kind of place where you go to a fight and a disco breaks out.

 That Wrecks Me Buzz

Lots of things!

Waltzer gets pissed off at the littlest things.

Harry Enfield's new show.

Lads who stand outside a Church instead of going in.

The extreme heat in my parent's house.

People looking over my shoulder when I am writing.

Northern Irish Politics.

House Prices in Dublin.

Gridlock and traffic jams.

The lack of hours in the day.

Unpredictable Irish weather.

Prices of drink in Dublin.

Giving people a bad buzz every week.

Now that wrecks me buzz.