WEEE-OOOOOOP!! WEE-OOOOOOP!! WEE-OOOOOOOP!!

Whaa?? Half asleep, I tried to focus on the clock next to the bed.

5AM? What the fuck??

Then it dawned on me. The fire alarm. Again. But 5AM is too early for Shroder to be in the shower, so what the hell? Ignoring this intrusion, I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. I’m sure some people heeded the alarm, but I was just too tired to care. Ironically enough, the 5 AM false alarm was set off by someone else on the WWE crew – one of the pyro techs showering before work.

I just have to stop for a minute and award the Copthorne a GFY award – UK style. Even though the beds at the hotel are comfortable, there’s really no excuse for having the stupidest fire alarm system ever.

Congratulations Jolly Ol’ Crapthorne hotel!

Anyway, since I couldn’t get back to sleep, I wandered downstairs for some breakfast. Runny eggs, baked beans, some unidentifiable black thing and mushrooms. MMmmmmm!! There is something insidious about a English breakfast, something evil that sets my stomach rumbling all day. My poor stomach tied with my liver for the prestigious “Most Abused Organ’ award during this trip.

The set day was unremarkable, the set and ring were set, the TV truck was set up, and plans were made with the local British audio crew to visit one of their favorite pubs – the Lass O’ Gowrie – after work.

Going out drinking with people that eat those insidious English breakfasts regularly was definitely not one of my brightest ideas. After trying to match these lads pint for pint all night, I understand why England has a town called Liverpool.

The end of the night is still somewhat of a blur, but I do remember it involved eating some type of mysterious ‘street meat’ in a wrap. Vaguely, I knew I would regret it later, but at the time, it was deeeee-licious!

Author: frenchy