Temple Bar has just launched in the place where Zoo bar used to be. I mean it’s dangerously close to Concert Square which as we know should be avoided at all costs unless you wanna be visually assaulted by fat wools in bodycon and quiffheads in toms and cleavage tops, BUT it’s ran by the same guys as Igloo etc so they’re bound to make a success of it.
The music is a mixture of RnB/Hip hop & dance which as far as I’m concerned is the perfect pitch for me. I love a bit of hip hop like (as you can probably tell by most of my Scouse bird remixes).
There’s a little silver step on the way to the toilets which I went flying down cos I didn’t see it coming and landed face first in some bird’s arse. So whoever you were, thanks for breaking my fall with your ass cheeks, they were dead comfy. I think that might have been when the first injury (stiletto through fabric) occurred to my dress. So yeh, watch out for that sneaky stair… I had consumed a bottle of wine and a couple of vodkas by that point thought so it could’ve just been ale blindness.
In the toilet I noticed a rogue wool had escaped from Concert Square and was walking round with no shoes on after wetting her hair in the sink (WHY GOD WHY??) but other than her, Temple Bar had a pleasantly wool-free clientele.
We were sat in Danny O’s booth (it’s not what you know, it’s who you know) and apparently there was a rumour flying round that the bird in the red dress (me) was his girlfriend. Yes I fucking am so y’all bitches get your hands off him, (I’m not his bird like but… The Secret and all that.) Anyway when he turned up there was a flash of recognition and then fear in his eyes as he clocked who I was from when I met him at New Year. My first priority was to make sure that he knew the song I’d sang for him that had been played on Juice FM was just a bit of fun and I wasn’t actually the type of girl to boil his pet rabbit and yano what, the boy’s got a good sense of humour.
He’s a lovely lad who’s totally unaffected by the fame game which is nice to see. He patiently stood there for over an hour posing for pictures with half the girls in Liverpool while me and me mates felt his arse and photobombed everyone. He told me twice I looked gorgeous and then he followed me, I was all like, “God, you’re comin on a bit strong lad, why are you so obsessed with me??”
Quite frankly, I reckon some of the world’s greatest romances have started with a bit of light stalking so…..watch this space.
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