Of Corp and Comas

That's right folks, I have returned. After promising for about.. ooo, the last 8ish months to actually write a half decent blog, not involving the word "fish" (Dammit) I am back.

Of course, I need to give you a brief tour of the world I now live in, as it is far from the madding crowd of.. Leicester.

I now live in Sheffield. That's right chaps, the land of.. cutlery. I am of course at University, and studying to be a mature, responsible Primary School teacher. What they fail to tell you at the beginning of the course is that the bars and clubs around Sheffield feel that to become more mature and responsible, on your quest to reach adult hood, you need to consume copious amounts of alcohol, fall asleep in car parks, and embarass yourself beyond normal limits, all in an effort to get this sort of youthful behaviour out of your system. Well, that's my excuse anyway.

Friday nights have now been dedicated to a ramshackle club, apptly named Corporation. If this were a corporation, it would be a shit hole where the vending machines were always empty, the toilet bowls always full and the carpets would be sticky. As it stands, Corp is dirty, disgusting, dingy and dire. The metal stairs are a death trap, and the cheap vodka sends you on a one way ticket to hell. So cheap in fact, that you can vomit your guts up with a fiver. Am I selling it to you?

You may wonder quite why we choose to engage in such stomach pumping, head spinning, face warming behaviour, but it is all in essence of having a jolly good time.

Never before have I spent the evening with such an amazing group of friends, in such a grotty place, but had so many classic memories and been so very happy. Corporation, whilst being the Johnny Vegas of the bar world, brings out the best in those who dare, and is the haven for those who don't have a bursary.

Just for clarification of how happy Corp makes me, here is a photo: