Posts Tagged ‘alcohol in museum


A Literal “Night” At A Literal “Museum” With Literally, “Alcohol”

00902161ce955ce10c84ff937a737e7c If you live in a first world country, they let you do things that defy belief if you come from a third world country. Sure, you live in a Nanny State, but in return they let you do fun things like drink in public.

Drink in public?! For real? As in, walk down the street smashing a beer? Sit on a park bench and get hammered on gin? Cross a bridge and sip on a dirty martini? Yessir! Sky’s the limit here in the first world.

They even take it to extremes and allow you, once in awhile, to get trollied in museums between 6.30pm and 10pm. It’s called a “Late” and it happens fairly regularly in London.

I went to the one at The Science Museum last week, half-expecting it to be some kind of elaborate ruse. Like there’d be alcohol, but they’d serve it from one of those wonky trestle tables outside and make you and the other six guys who showed up finish your drinks before heading into the actual museum.

Because I mean come the fuck on. You give people alcohol around all kinds of ancient planes and trains and sciencey things and those people are going to get wankered and try to climb INTO all those ancient planes and trains and sciencey things, right?



You give them alcohol and next thing you know, one guy’s throwing another through the “Age Of Enlightenment” display because he slapped his girlfriend on the ass, surely!

You give them alcohol and you’re basically BEGGING them to get into the fighter jet flight simulators and compete with their mates to see who can do the most barrel rolls before puking their lungs out, amiright!?


I get there, walk through the front door and am immediately impressed by the lack of street brawling and drunken choruses of ‘SSWWWWEEEEEEETTTTTTT CCCAAAARRRROOOLLLLLLIIINNNNEEEE! BUM BUM BUUUUUUUUUUMMM!”

People are… respectable. A number of them are definitely holding alcoholic beverages, but no one (that I can see) is loudly asking anyone who will give him the time of day where he can get a goddam PIE at this goddam HOUR.



I proceed to get some craft beer or other from one of the pop-up bars that have been brought in for the Late, next to which is an entire dancefloor of people boogying in total silence.

The fuck? On closer inspection I see that everyone on the dancefloor, including the DJ is wearing headphones. Sorry, I don’t know why I included the DJ in that last sentence, of course he was wearing headphones, after pressing “Play” that’s pretty much all they have to do isn’t it?

That actually looks pretty cool, I thought. I want headphones! I want to jive around in silence, oblivious to the fact that I look like a bit of a wanker. I’ll bet they are listening to some sick beats, I thought. This is the Science Museum after all, it’s probably definitely some insane futuristic, Megatron-taking-a-shit dubstep.

At which point the people on the dancefloor all broke out into a chorous of “It’s raining men” which, without the music, is even more ball-shrivellingly awful that with it.



I wandered around a bit more until my buddy Peggles finally showed up and we went upstairs to watch a game of human Foosball, which was definitely the highlight of the evening.

I’m not going to explain the mechanics of how it works, look at the picture for that. I’m just going to say that once again I was mad impressed by everyone’s calm approach to this sport in the presence of alcohol because let’s be honest, if it was South Africa, before long a bottle would have been thrown, teeth would have been loosened and someone would have pulled a knife.



See folks, that’s called “self control”. It is possible to go out to a museum after hours, drink moderately, dance in total silence, play a respectable game of human foosball and go home having had a Jolly Good Time.

Of course, Peggles and I hit the nearest bar after that, got totally sauced, head-butted a guy for looking at us funny and stole a sign from the bathroom BUT we were very cordial to the guy who caught me pissing in his petrol tank and let him go without breaking his arm.

“Self control”.