Читать книгу The World According to Vice - Vice Magazine - Страница 32

Forty-eight hours in, it was time for a celebration. My squat buddies told me that they were up for partying so I went down to the local off-license booze store and discovered how punks can afford to get drunk: three litres of White Ace cost only £3. In a flush of excitement, I spent £9 of my new friends’ money on nine litres of the stuff and retired to the squat.

I can now confirm that, coupled with the occasional bump of ketamine, drinking several White Aces leads to an almost lysergic experience. This is especially true if the person hasn’t eaten for two days because all his money went to rotting his guts with cider that even street-sleepers wouldn’t touch.

Fuzzy headed, I collapsed in a corner and woke up intermittently to throw up into a shopping bag riddled with holes. The upshot was that the vomit had leaked all over my t-shirt and increased the authenticity of my getup. When I finally awoke I felt like someone had kicked my head in. My t-shirt for the week was saturated with a nice coat of bile, and I had unexplained cuts all over my forehead. Now I was finally getting somewhere! The taste of freedom was sour and painful but intensely liberating.