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Ian, Rich and Paul's

^^Smile in an overly cheesy way for the camera now.

Dan's stories of life at 100 Portland Street, Lincoln, England


Seeing as we were all students and none of us (apart from Rich, and maybe Seb) ate properly, we frequented a fine eatery down the High Street called 'The Regal Fish and Chip Shop' which was ran by a jolly, very hairy,, Mexican man whom we affectionately knew as 'Miguel'.

He was now and again helped out by two younger versions of himself who we knew as 'The Talgliatele Brothers'. Now don't get me wrong the food there was extremely nice, I often helped myself to a hearty meal of kebab meat and chips with a little bit of chilli sauce.

However, a certain Mr Paul Speed was not always quite so lucky as to receive the freshest of produce from the Tagliatele family and it was known on occasion for him to return, open his chips 'n' cheese and realise he had been 'done' again.

No doubt as Paul left 'The Regal' there would be a chorus of laughter as the proprietors had just off-loaded a hefty amount of 'boke' cheese.

I have to say I found it hysterically funny to see my friend Paul 'binning' a good quid's worth of chips n' cheese every few days.

^^Dan Hodgett in the kitchen (note the 2 images of Marilyn Manson on the fridge), how twisted are we!

On several occasions through the Portland year the infamous double sink fell foul of (in my opinion) the girls and Mark.

It is where both sinks would fill up with scum-encrusted cutlery and crockery, which everyone would do their very best to ignore until the supply of eating utensils ran dry.

When that moment came an all that was left in the cupboard was 'Clare's stuff' which we were all forbidden to touch.

It was time again for the dynamic pot duo of Paul and Dan to don the rubber gloves and tackle a job so wretch worthy it came second only to putting out the smelly, juicy, squidgey, half-eaten rubbish of a Wednesday evening.
It remains a mystery to this day what the other members of the Portland House thought had happened when they awoke the next morning, the phrase 'washing-up fairy' was heard to be uttered.

The truth remains that it was nothing more mystical than a knackered Dan, Paul and/or Ian who had spent a good four, five, maybe eight hours doing our own weight in washing up.

We had quite a system going, both Ian and Paul would wash and I dry or one of them washed and the two remaining poor bastards dry. I tried to distance myself from ending up with the washing-up end of the deal as I found the putrid sink water a little too repulsive. Cheers now.
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