Last night I enjoyed a round of crazy golf in London’s East End. The puns were unnecessary and the beers expensive, but the night was brilliant.
I wrote yesterday’s post while sat on my train heading towards Cannon Street, ready to meet my mate Chris for his birthday night out at Brick Lane. The establishment was an underground, neon crazy golf course that was really good fun. Each hole was based on a pun or a meme or both. One hole revolved around “Spa Face” a mock up of Scarface in a face mask, another had a lot of statues of monkeys with the title “Lord of the Vapes.” While these names and courses were memorable it was very in your face. The atmosphere floated in from the obnoxious financial district and the so did the prices. With a couple of beers (no even pints) getting you into double digits.
Despite that the game itself was extremely fun. With a good group of us mucking up in turn and revisiting some old rivalries. I, of course, laid the smack talk like a portly Conor McGregor, I laid down the gauntlet for those around me. Only to come dead last! Typical. This was all down to the bloody Mount Doom hole. That hole can do one for two reasons, the first of which is that I technically got a hole in one but because I cut out the middle man – that middle man being Mount Doom – I was pressured into taking it properly. Secondly when I did take it “properly” I not so promptly got an 8 on a par 3. I took longer than Frodo Baggins to get up that blasted mountain.
The rest of the evening was spent in spoons. A posh spoons, but a spoons none the less. A few gins later and it was back to my brothers’. Not a bad Wednesday night and great way to spend a friends birthday.
Today has been a bit of a nothing day, full of bits and pieces and not as nearly interesting to write about as an underground course. I leave you with a picture of that bastard hole (you can probably see it better on my Instagram – the feed is below). See you tomorrow!