I.D Cards.

No, this isn't a rant about the money-hole scheme New Labour is concocting to keep tabs on us. Although, I've a good mind to start putting that one together soon. Rather, this rant concerns a situation I got myself into last night at a local pub.

A bit of background is prehaps necessary to begin with. I'm not a "clubby" type of person, knob-heads rubbered off their faces dancing to shite music does not a good night out make. I'd much prefer to relax with a few mates and a pint in a pub, rather that subject myself to the deluge of visual / audio diarrhoea at any of the city centre clubs. So, yesterday, after completing my last semester exams we headed out to this nice little pub we frequent every so often. On the way in, no one "hit us" for ID - the Bouncers just let us on in (Which is unsual, because although I'm 20, I always get asked for my ID. It's just plain embarrassing).

After a number of pints, a phone call had to be made and so I left the pub to use the phone booth just outside the bar. Now, on the way out (generally being the friendly sort) I said "hey" to the Bouncer, asked him how it was going and all that. Remember this.

After using the phone, I attempted to go back inside the pub only to be stopped by the same Bouncer I had just literally spoken to. The conversation as follows:

-"You got ID?"
-"Uh, I just walked past you on the way out of the bar. I needed to use the phone."
-"I don't give a fuck. ID?"
-"Tell you what, I've just left my ID inside in a rucksack with my friends. I'll go back inside and bring it out and show you. Alright?"
-"Aye hurry fuckin' up."

So, after getting past this fucking dolt, I decided, "Fuck'em". I wasn't going to go back inside the bar I had just left to find ID to verify my legality to this ignorant knuckle dragging wanker. So I went back inside, found my friends and finished my drink.

About 20 minutes later a hand lands on my shoulder:

-"Here, dickhead, ID?" - at this stage I burst out laughing at the guy.
-"I can't believe you actually came back in here to look for me. Why not hit every body at the table for ID? Or is it just me?"
-"Just you."

So I produced a Student Card, which I wanted to cram up the guys nostril (Although I was under no illusion that he could have ripped my arms off and beat me to death with them.) - which he didn't accept, just to be an awkward cunt. So then followed an Electoral ID Card and a provisional licence. I get the impression that this raging mongoloid was not going to believe me unless I produced a signed and verified birth certificate and fucking a full DNA profile and had it not been for the intervention of a bar-maid that I'm friendly with, I dare say this dick head would have thrown me out of the place. Just to excert his position in a feat of supreme ego-wankery.

Unfuckingbelievable.