some beer drinking barbarians are more equal than others

I found myself briefly stuck in conversation with a clan of beer drinking babarians on Saturday night; it was murderous but thankfully also a pretty rapid affair.

Now I am a beer drinking barbarian myself but at least I do know how to converse slightly beyond the topic of rugby. Some beer drinking barbarians are more equal than others, we are able to sensibly talk weather, movies and our favourite new advert on the television, but we also never make chit-chat about work if we can help it.

Invariable though my rugby conversation took a turn for the worse when my fellow lager lout wanted to know what I did for a living. I have a standard, lying answer that I am an architect – why? Because it’s a definitive profession and conversations don’t get into, "so what exactly is it that you do?"

Alcohol and professional bragging seems to go hand in glove these days; but I just can’t be bothered. This, I foolishly mention only to get, figuratively speaking, castrated for not having any ambition.

“You see, that’s the difference between you and me, I see something I want, I just go for it…”

I somehow didn’t feel defeated, knowing that was the defining difference between us because I do have ambition, slight and subtle, just enough testorone to maintain an innovative, progressive presence the rest is blunted by my love for beer.

Fortunately for me, a distracting presence got the attention of my fellow, beer drinking barbarian’s eye and he was off to make an impression.

After which I very quickly disappeared to the best kept secret and enjoyed a fun night of percussion blended deep, minimal, electronic house between intellectualising with a good friend.