Friday, October 27, 2006

The Origins and the Early Days

The 'Home of the Whip' post has got me reminiscing about those early days back in the late 80's/early 90's. I recall fondly, the start of the 'whip' and in particular the transition from a simple gathering of friends in a suburb of Nottingham, prior to a journey on public transport into town, into a vodka fuelled hour or two, culminating in air punching, over animated dancing and quite simply ridiculous behaviour in a rock club.

As I recall in the early days, the simple gathering was a mere meeting up of friends prior to catching the bus into town. At first a few cans of larger/beer and even cider were consumed prior to the 15 minute or so journey. It soon became evident that the 'odd' can was simply having little effect on the individuals involved. Slowly but surely the stakes were raised. Stronger drinks were sought to induce a greater effect. At first, various spirits were dabbled with. I remember with a tear in my eye, necking Pernod and Cherry Brandy on the odd occasion. Whilst these strange choices of spirit achieved their purpose, they did not mix all that well with the drinking which would invariably ensue once town, and the public house of choice, were reached. So the scene was set. A spirit was required which would achieve the maximum effect in the minimum time and with the minimum fuss. One which was as tasteless as possible, and could be disguised and mixed easily. Based on these objectives there could only be one choice - Vodka, the transition was made.

On the first occasion, a short walk to the off licence resulted in a small half bottle of the cheapest vodka known to man. The brand of choice here was usually either Imperial Chekov, Red Flag or the Prince Consort. These fine brands were usually mixed with an orange cordial (Kia-Ora usually being 1st choice). At first, half a bottle between two or three people as a 'warm up' drink was more than enough, even appearing excessive, considering there was around 3 hours drinking time in a public house prior to a rock club visit. But we were all on a slippery slope.

Slowly but surely the amount of vodka that the participants craved was increasing. Not only was the volume needed to achieve the same state of euphoria rising, but so was the levels of euphoria. I remember the shock that was openly proclaimed when a full 700 cl bottle was purchased at the start of the evening. This was followed a number of weeks later as things escalated to a feeling of shame when it was your turn to go back to off licence, and the same disapproving old lady behind the counter, to purchase further vodka supplies less than one hour after the previous purchase. As the drinking involved in the warm up or 'pre match' as it was favourably called, was increasing, so was the duration. Now the session was progressing in importance into a mini event in its own right. It was expanded to include listening to CD's and more favourably watching videos recorded on MTV's 'Headbangers Ball' and several visits to the off licence. At this point the vodka drinking had extended into a session lasting over one hour. As the drinking at these events progressed still further the state of inebriation and induced euphoria increased notably. At its peak, the participants would head for town clad in a variety of outrageous clothes. Shirts (often made of silk) would be chosen based on there suitability as potential 'stage wear' for a late 80's/early 90's hair metal band. The saying was "you can never go too far", although in hind sight and without ¾ of a bottle of vodka coursing through my veins, we frequently did! By now rather than a 'warm up', the vodka driven members would arrive at the first chosen public house for the evening, moving in an over animated fashion and in a total state of euphoria. It was normal under this delusional condition, to strut in like one was an owner of the property itself, scarcely realising that ones voice was slightly slurred and that ones shirt was undone to the near navel. In fact I recall it was standard practice to administer a degree of ribbing for wearing a shirt only undone by a mere few buttons from the neck.

In this form the 'vodka whip' as it was now known to all, including individuals outside of the immediate circle of participants, occurred on a virtual weekly basis over the period of the next few years. At times it even progressed to twice a week, with a rock club visit on both the Friday and the Saturday night. At this point the hard core of individuals involved were putting away a bottle of the clear stuff a week, before they even left the house! As the years progressed the 'whip' travelled to the locations previously mentioned in the post 'The Home of the Whip'. Many individuals who were not regulars, joined for the odd few occasions. Most enjoyed a fine evening of entertainment, returning for further 'whips' when ever possible. Even to this day, some 15 years on, some still talk fondly of the occasions, whilst others who took a 'beating', becoming victims of the 'whip', try to pretend to his day, that they were never really involved.

Over the years the most unlikely people, now high ranking and respected members of the community could once be seen strutting bear chested in a frenzied state of vodka fuelled madness, punching the air to the hair metal rock tunes of the day. No one who has ever participated in a full 'vodka whip' is unscathed by its effects, both good and bad, as many photographs are in existence to prove.

1 comment:

VodkaWhip said...

It's all coming back to me. A fine reminder of what I hesitate to call the glory days.

I still contest that it was the half bottle of Kiora that kept us up all night air punching and stripped to the waist whilst tottering about on a fine pair of yeehars (if that is how you spell it).