Time to grow up

I turned 35 on Wednesday. I am officially an Old Barley.

I fit the stereotype of a grumpy old man, but I do like to have the occasional drink and have a good time.

So I spent yesterday watching cricket, and went into the Scud & Nanny for a few scotches afterwards.

I bumped into one of my mates, who I’ve known in cricket circles for many years. How are you? I’m fine. I feel old. It was my birthday yesterday.

Then he poured his beer over my head.

Now, if you haven’t noticed, I HAVE MOTHERfeckING DREADLOCKS. You don’t pour beer on dreadlocks.

In fact, outside the monthly shower, shampoo and retouch, you don’t pour anything on dreadlocks. Not even water.

I’m attending a conference in South Africa this weekend, and on top of all the millions of things I have to do, now I also have to spend three hours of my Friday getting my hair done.

Secondly, we are grown-ass men. We do not pour beer over each other’s heads. That juvenile shit is for the youngsters to do.

Thirdly, now I had beer in my hair and on my shirt. So I’m walking around the pub smelling like beer. Remember, I’m a grown-ass man.

I was pissed, and I told him so in no uncertain terms. It’s unacceptable behaviour, really. If people want to treated like adults, they should behave like adults.

Pouring beer over my head has, literally, wasted my time and money.

Who does that?