One of my biggest misgivings about being out in the suburbs is being away from all the action, the liveliness of the city. Recently Adam and I have been a bit morose that our social life has been a bit lacklustre – mostly our fault I know but in a small way influenced by the fact we are no longer living in the city.

So when we decided to go out for a drink last night in the Cross, I was quite happy to get out amongst it once more. We had enjoyed a (mostly) enjoyable meal at the Victoria Rooms, and wanted to go out for a quick drink or two. But you know what? I’m starting to really wish I hadn’t.

First stop, Piano Bar. Nope, cover charge to get in, $15 is not worth it for 1 or 2 drinks. So we walk to a pub near World Bar, had a few seats outside in which to drink and watch the wildlife. The bouncer decided to make a fuss and ask us how many of us there were, eyeing us up and down to make sure the male/female ratio was right. Then there was the constant eyeing over of ID as though we were 14 years old and trying to pass off fakes. Wanker.

Tried to order a round. Nope. 2 drinks maximum per person. In a plastic glass. And can’t have it outside (as we had originally planned). DJ playing Ministry of Sound 2002 straight off the CD whilst 6 drunk girls floundered over each other on the putrid dancefloor in a desperate attempt to attract a teen pregnancy. Outside a bunch of “wannabe alpha males” were shouting at each other across the road whilst a few wogs in a kitted-out Hundai Excel yelled at a few drunk girls.

On the way back to the car we get heckled by some drunk bogans, and I couldn’t help feel just how much nicer things were in the suburbs.

It reminded me of a great plan I read about a NZ mayor wanting to offer bogans money to get them sterilised in order to reduce the amount of derelict bogan children in the world. A-FUCKING-MEN!