It’s always been my fantasy (and yours) to date twins, so imagine my surprise and excitement when to bump into both of the Duke of Wellington statues in a Shoreditch bar last night! I managed to strike up a conversation with them by admiring their boots and asking what they were called (duh!), but as we all know playing blonde is VERY helpful while attempting to pick up men. And my old pulling trick must’ve worked because they invited me to join them…
It was a bit boring at first as they generally caught up with each others news, apparently they don’t get together much what with being situated on opposite sides of London. They both griped intermittently about their current habitats; the City Wellington hates all the traffic around the Bank of England, and the Westminster Wellington hates that all he has to look at is Apsley House, “I mean I lived there for long enough” he yelped “I don’t see the need to stare at it for all eternity”. As you can imagine my ego was thoroughly bruised by their lack of attention, and I so sipped down a couple of bottles of wine to numb the pain.
A Horse walked into the bar, and the barman said “No horses allowed”. And then another horse walked into the bar, and the barman was outnumbered so he shut up. And so me Wellington and Wellington were joined by the Copenhagen’s. I had never heard of Copenhagen before, but before the evening was out I was sick of hearing about him “battle of Waterloo” this, “only animal to be given a full military battle” that. It was dull. So I did a few tequila shots to keep things interesting, but it just made things blurry. I couldn’t tell the difference between the two Wellingtons to begin with, and after a couple of hours, I couldn’t really tell them apart from the Copenhagen’s. I can’t even remember how I got home, although I did manage to get back to my own bed some how, and I woke up this morning feeling TERRIBLE and with a nasty metallic taste in my mouth. Fingers crossed my memory doesn’t come back…just in case it wasn’t Wellington.
