That is full of Whiskey and Coke. I have two of those mugs now. Amazing.
So what it was was, it got to Friday afternoon just gone (my birthday was on Sunday, right) and I hadn't sorted anything out at all. The previous night my Mum had come down to London and took me to a most delicious burger joint in Old Street, and I was very happy about that. Plus my girl had promised to take me to see Iron Man 2 on the Saturday. I'd been looking forward to that for ages. But serious, I'd been so deep in all that Street Fighter business (The Guardian just dropped something on the subject, actually... they called me a "UK hop hop artist". AMAZING!) that I just hadn't got round to sorting any kind of social action around my cotdanged 30th.
So late on Friday afternoon I cobbled together a little Facebook event, which kept going wrong - I had to click everyone I was inviting individually twice cos it crashed, and then I accidentally made it public anyway. Massive fail. By Saturday morning 4 people said they were coming to my hastily arranged afternoon in a pub, and one of them was me. Another was my girl who, true to her word, took me to see Iron Man 2. I enjoyed it thoroughly and felt very lucky to be eating mixed popcorn with chocolate and crisps in it with my beautiful girl in Leicester Square.
Afterwards we were supposed to be meeting BJ and Mika in Dalston, but they rang saying they were having trouble with their kid, and would we mind meeting them in the Hackney Pearl later? I was mildly miffed, and set about ringing people to see if they were going to come on Sunday. My Dad answered from some noisy-ass place, saying he was watching the football and telling me to bugger off. I out the phone down and was going to ring my brother Marek, until my girl told me to stop hassling my family and leave everybody alone. I had a little sulk.
As we approached the Pearl, I saw BJ's blonde mane through the window. "He's early!" I exclaimed, merrily. As we got closer, I saw another face I recognised on the other side of the bar. It was one of Charlotte's friends. "What a coincidence!" I thought, idiotically. Amazingly, I did not twig what was going on until I got right up to the window.
THE PLACE WAS RAMMED WITH MY FRIENDS!
My London friends! School friends I hadn't seen since I was at school! My old Crack Village buddies! My bandmates from over the ages! My old manager and record label boss and their families! My old man and my brothers! All manner of awesome people I love from all over the cotdang shop who'd never been in a room together! Even Stephen Hague and Dana came down from bloody Hastings! I was amazed and full of awe and tears!
And, of course, not long after I was full of booze, and making a big rambly speech and going, "wah! no one's ever done anything like this for me! Wah!"
Ben Offish checks his watch during my awesome and rambling speech
How lucky! Lucky lucky lucky mud! How happy was I! Just over a decade ago I was living in a squat and sleeping on a filthy old mattress! Now look at me! How sweet life is! I well up thinking about it. What wonderful friends I have. What great fortune. And I got the best girl in the whole wide world. You could run me over tomorrow and I could die happy cos I already lived an amazing life.
Yes. Anyway, the night was glorifull. Many of us ended up back at our little flat, which was pretty funny. It got covered in broken glass and Black Grape, which is a bugger to get off of one's keyboard, but it was worth it, obvs.
So, you'd have thought that was enough awesome for one birthday, right? Yes you would. And you'd have been right. But I didn't just get the best party, courtesy of the best girl, and the best friends... I got the BEST CAKE EVER:
Illest Cake Of All Time.
Lookit that thing. My MUM made that! BEST CAKE EVER!
And the dope don't stop. The Street Fighter Mixtape continues to take over the world. It's done over 21,000 streams on Sound Cloud, over 5000 downloads on Usershare, and its embedded on around 100 websites, that I am aware of. The reaction has been beyond my humble expectations and I am overjoyed.
On Thursday my girl's Mum is flying us out to Malta. We're gonna get SUNSHINE. We might find a boat and film a Rick Ross-styled pop video. Or we might just hang out and have FUN for 4 days.
Speaking of which, last night me and Littles went down the Legion in Old Street to listen to Examples album. And eat free Nandos. Well, I ate free Nandos, Littles isn't feeling their chicken. You gotta worry about chickens whose wings have that much meat on. Those things look like Big Narstie's fists. Normal chickens don't have wings like that.
I wasn't feeling all the chicken bones on the floor in The Legion either, to be honest, but Example's album? That thing is a flipping straight up singles compilation, I cannot front for a second, on some Now That's What I Call Music Summer 2010 ish. Everything on it sounds big. The production is overboard. And I gotta say, my favourite stuff on there is the most pop, where Ex dispenses with rapping altogether and croons his big ole spiky head off.
Two years ago Example told me he was going to do this. Exactly, to the word. And he has. Dude envisaged, and created the whole thing. When The Beats collapsed he didn't sit around crying about how his label let him down, he didn't sit around waiting for someone to come along and do it for him. He made it happen. That's a beautiful thing, and, oh man, wait for it... an example to us all...
But it is true!
Dream it, and you can do it. Book them and they will come. Decide that you want to make music and draw comics and find true love, and that's yours, bubba.
Yes indeed. So again, thank you all, each and every one of you reading this. I'm the luckest mud in town. My life right now is exactly what I dreamed up all those years ago, when I was the angsty lil speckster in the middle of this:
Three decades of Don
And on that BOMBSHELL, lets play out this drop with the best audio moment of Saturday Night, and contender for the song of the YEAR...
Photos courtesy of James Harrison, Victoria Keeble and My Mum.