Following the highly entertaining evening at BAS (see separate post) this last weekend, we left The Edge venue in very good spirits, albeit a little tired. Taking
the 5-minute walk to the taxi rank we encountered a young man, walking along
the street on his own without a care in the world.
“Are you alright?” we inquired. We were all very concerned about his well-being. He said he was fine; the reason we were all so concerned was because
his shirt was literally covered in blood. He reckoned it was a nose bleed but it
was quite evident that wasn’t the case…. He wasn’t fallover drunk, just happy,
and seemingly completely oblivious to the source of our concern. After an
exchange of a few pleasantries, he and we went on our respective ways.
“That’s Basildon for you!” joked Claire, and we collectively shrugged the
matter off without any more discussion on the subject.
At the taxi rank, there were a few people waiting for taxis but no taxis in sight.
In fact the street’s silence provided an uneasy eeriness to the whole proceedings.
This wasn’t aided by a lone cyclist with a repetitive squeak on his bike, cycling
by…. Twilight Zone anyone?
In the taxi queue were three small groups of people; a male/female couple
dressedin smart casual trendy clothes who kept themselves to themselves.
Us three, and another male/female couple; the quiet man was dressed in dark
shirt/trousers and the 50something woman on his arm was barely dressed
So, where to begin? Picture this if you can…. She had sparkly deedlyboppers on
her head, and we therefore assumed she’d been to a hen party. It later
transpired that this wasn’t actually the case. Around her neck was a shot
glass which nestled between her largely uncovered, heavily tattoo’ed breasts.
All of her limbs, top and bottom, were also tattoo’ed with one thing or another…
She had a fluffy Minions bag as a handbag, and complained loudly that it
wasn’t classy enough as the eyes didn’t move (I’m not kidding!) Her skirt barely
covered her naked and somewhat fleshy thighs and past the numerous ankle
bracelets and tattoos, she wore 6 inch sparkly stilettos. She occasionally
decided to loudly shout random phrases at the top of her lung capacity and
when I yawned quite discreetly (it was nearing 2am and I was shattered), she
shouted at the top of her heavily Essex accented voice “Wakey Wakey!”
A badge declaring “I’m Naughty” completed the ensemble (just in case there
was any doubt to this fact).
A taxi came after approximately ten minutes and the first couple took it
(the woman got in and the bloke, satisfied he’d seen her into a taxi, left).
We were left with Essex Woman in all her glory and what turned out to be
her evening’s catch. We had actually phoned for a taxi but when it didn’t
arrive, and the next taxi came along, Essex Woman took her shoes off to
“Where are you going?” we asked. It transpired they were going somewhere
that was en route to our destination. In the view that taxis in Basildon at
that time of night were proving to be rare than hen’s teeth, we asked if they’d
mind sharing. We were THAT desperate to get back!
Once ensconced in the taxi, Essex Woman loudly belched (I was sat directly
opposite her and was highly fearful that she would puke over the only pair
of trousers I’d brought with me). She continued to bawdily commentate on
everything and nothing at all, very loudly, when her mobile phone rang.
“Hello Shenice, Yeah….. Yeah….. OK Babes. OK Babes. See you soon Shenice
dahling!” was all we heard. Once she’d finished the call, and to break the very
awkward atmosphere one of us asked if she’d been at a hen party. “Nah, I’ve
been to (a gay club). My two daughter-in-laws, right, starting snogging in front of me, I mean, I don’t mind that kind of fing
but I don’t want it shoved in my face. It’s disgusting! I don’t know what my sons
are going to say when they hear what they’ve been up to.” She evidently couldn’t
wait to be the bearer of such salacious gossip. The irony of the fact that she was
very obviously taking a complete stranger home was completely lost on her.