The Only Way is Essex (Apparently)

Dinner last night was at La Barca in Waterloo, which was the restaurant I came to on my first night here. Around the table at the end of the room were slumped four beefy young Essex career criminals and two heavily made up girls. They had been there since lunchtime and had been steadily drinking ever since. It was now 7pm and they were paralytic. It was only the copious lines of coke that they were all obviously doing during their frequent visits to the toilets that kept them up and yammering on. Well, all of them except poor Coreena, who by the time my dinner arrived had slumped face first onto the table and could now not be roused by her Essex cohorts. The other girl yelled, "Coreena! Get up, doll! Coreena! Come on, doll!" But no amount of furious shaking could rouse the wretched girl. So they left her where she lay on the bespattered tablecloth and continued their ballyhooing.

Finally, Coreena came to and with breathtaking concentration made her way to her feet. "I warra-gohda-tohrlit", she slurred to the restaurant. The other girl translated this and told Karl to carry the girl to the toilet. Which he did. A few minutes later, he came back alone and told the gang that Coreena was now lying down in the bathroom floor and she wouldn't get up. So they carried on with their raucous ballyhooing once more, without her.

A bit later on, Coreena shuffled back in with some white powder all over her mouth and nose and rejoined the guys and doll.

I lost track of them while I ate my wonderful risotto al funghi but by the time my panna cotta arrived they were slowly but clumsily weaving through the tables towards the exit. The one called Karl pulled out a brick of money from his suit jacket pocket and tried to pull his eyes into focus to count out the right amount. One of the other guys, his hands on both her shoulders,  steered Coreena ahead of him through the restaurant. He caught my eye and in the manner of a sloshed uncle at xmas lifted his hand and made shushing noises, as he went past, as if afraid I might wake them from their intoxicating nightmare.

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