Guy Brighton: WEDS 14th JULY: WATCH THE BRASS MONKEYS

WEDS 14th JULY: WATCH THE BRASS MONKEYS

The guys at the company where I am helping them with sales took me out for a great meal at Bond. Very good sushi especially when you're not paying for it. Pity that that waiter spilled all that stuff down my back. Got a bowl of salt water and a free desert. Well you needed the desert after drinking the water.

Took a taxi over to that new bar Brass Monkeys meatpacking to meet a mad Irishman. I find him at the bar being spoken to by a mad American (from the highest city in the US, no less). They used to be room mates but hadn't seen each other for 8 years. And by the actions of the American (I went for a cigarette) the Irishman had left him pretty upset. Maybe they had just had too many big nights out on the town.

Luckily the fine selection of beer at the Brass Monkey relaxed everyone fine except for one other fellow. Whilst the Irishman and I smoked a cigarette outside the front of the pub a blond guy walks rapidly out of the bar and stops at a car parked by the sidewalk. He swings around, smiles at us, then twists around as he falls to the street infront of the car. Head hits the tarmac first. Crack.

The Irishman (Terry is his name) and I ponder whether he's joking but two guys come out of the pub and rush to him. Terry and I come over and ask if he's OK. The two guys get a little aggressive and say, 'of course. we can handle this.' The blond bloke is still on the ground, not moving.

They drag him to the pavement and onto a stool. He's still unconcious. There's that fine moment when you want to get involved but you think the guy's friends might lay into you.

We walk into the bar and Terry asks the barman if the blond guy was drinking tequila or scotch or something. 'He had a couple of shots upstairs,' he replied. 'With the two guys out there with him: the owners!'

One of the owners comes in and is frendlier now. Through the window behind him his blond mate is still passed out, arms limp, face bloody. The owner thanks us for our help and askes if we would like a drink.

Before I get the chance to consider, Terry announces in his lyrical accent: "That's very nice of you. We'll be having some of those shots. Thank you."