Posted On: 30/09/2013
By: Scouse Bird
Originally published on Drinkinliverpool.com in September 2013
So my mum is getting married for the second time, before I’ve even done it once the horror. She dismissed my idea of getting a midget stripper for the hen do and insisted she wanted to go the Liverpool Bierkeller for one of their Bavarian stomper show things where there’s a lot of swaying and folk music and where you expect the staff could break into a yodel at any moment, you know, not the cool Sunday night live music Bierkeller. I know a girl who knows a girl who works there so I got her to book us in.
I was running late on the night (naturally, I was having smokey eye issues) and my mums friends arrived first only to find there was nothing booked in under my name, my real name. I cringed to death as I said to my mum to tell them to try “Scouse Bird”, no, still nothing. Well this was disastrous.
I arrived half an hour late and strutted (not walked, one must not simply walk everywhere, one must strut) up to the door to try and figure out what was going on, where I was greeted (I say greeted, more actively ignored) by a surly bouncer who informed me he had no idea where the girl with the clipboard was ‘soz’. At this point my mum was nearly in tears she was so stressed out. The wedding plans haven’t exactly gone smoothly. She’s had to have an emergency wedding dress made by Mark Melia seeing as the one she had planned for months by some dressmaker in Garston turned out to be worse than a Year 8 needlework project and went straight in the bin. Even I was stressed and I’m usually pretty unflappable.
In the end I managed to track down the legendary keeper of the gates ‘The Girl With The Clipboard’ and after a bit of sweet talking and explaining of situation, showing of text messages etc she managed to clear a couple of tables for us. Phew.
We waited downstairs for a bit (about an hour and a half) for the final latecomer to arrive (my friend obviously) and partook in a few bottles of prosecco in the meantime to try and calm the nerves. I must’ve made some seriously amazing fashion choices that night because people kept coming up to me and asking where my shoes/dress/bag was from. This hasn’t got any relevance to the story like, I just want to show off. The rest of the party eventually went upstairs and my mum and I waited on and on and on for my friend. This gave us a rare opportunity for some mother/daughter bonding time to talk about ‘feelings’ and men and that. Vom.
I went outside for literally 1 minute to harangue my friend as to her whereabouts over the phone and when I came back my mum was texting and the drinks were gone; two half full glasses of prosecco complete with glow in the dark dick straws in. Listen Bierkeller, what are you trying to do to me here??? I went to the bar to boot off, and by boot off I mean politely ask if we could have our glow in the dark dick straws back. My friend finally waltzed in looking fabulous and reunited with our dick straws we went up to join in the show.
I must admit, when everyone started swaying and leaning I actually thought I was in my own personal idea of hell. I’m not comfortable unless I’m a) posing in a booth or b) rolling around in student vomit in the raz. There’s no in between. Once I’d had a few bevvies though and a few near death experiences (falling off the bench) I was soon swaying and leaning with the best of them and having a whale of a time tossing an inflatable penis off/around. On the way out the bouncer told me to ‘cheer up it might never happen’ I AM CHEERED UP I JUST HAVE BITCHY RESTING FACE GAWWWDD!!!
All in all, despite the initial hiccups (which were due to a misunderstanding of dates it transpires and not actually the fault of the Bierkeller at all) I really did have a great night. The Sunday night Bierkeller vibe is more suited to me but if you’re after a night out that’s a bit different then Friday and Saturday stomper nights in the Bierkeller are something you should try at least once.
See more at: www.drinkinliverpool.co.uk/scouse-bird-reviews-bierkeller/#sthash.enSelsNo.dpuf
