Or, indeed, March as the month would seem to be, judging by the JB-departure snaps. 14 hours of drinking is not best followed by bikram yoga unless you're into flu-like dehydration for the week.
Click on image for bigger picture.
| May II '03
Or, indeed, March as the month would seem to be, judging by the JB-departure snaps. 14 hours of drinking is not best followed by bikram yoga unless you're into flu-like dehydration for the week. Click on image for bigger picture. |
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| Kickoff, the megaphone does a splendid job of frightening an audacious waitress with a 150 decibel "back off, b*tch" |  |
| Dastardly doings are being plotted in the background |  |
| Nat: the keys to the Tartleymobile are secured |  |
| A taxi, one hopes |  |
| amidst the 'mayhem' -- rules were not so well adhered to | |
| good glasses, JB |  |
| Actually don't remember seeing Lindsay there that night |  |
| January runs to rescue JB from certain chunder |  |
| And somehow, he claws his way out of it |  |
| Little Bo Campbell |  |
| Tonks really knows the blind-drunk manoeuvre (try spelling that after a bottle of wine) pretty well |  |
| All memories of Rod Stewart are vanquished |  |
| Iain McLeman, mate of old from '95 Gds days. |  |
| Rannery is rost for words |  |
| Alcohol poisoning? |  |
| Bill Emison stumbles out of hibernation onto the 'fax |  |
| Supergrass in the Bluebird. Not on jb's pubcrawl, sadly. |  |
| A moment of solemnity on the eve of the giant snowstorm |  |
| Percy on the epic A-basin deck. |  |