Grudge

When I was at Uni, Bundy (the rum company) threw a ‘Bundy Undie’ party down at my local pub. I convinced about six of my friends to go and we all went in our jocks (the guys in boxers and wife-beaters, the girls in boxers and slips). Bundy had also brought in Killing Heidi (popular at the time) to play and the pub was packed with about a thousand people.

Unfortunately Bundy had made the ‘undie’ part optional and, of the thousand, only my small group of friends (and one or two other brave heroes) had come ‘dressed’ in theme. From memory the girls immediately turned tail and changed outfits. Though less than happy with this turn of events, Glover (the usual accomplice in such antics) and I decided to push through with the original plan.

Needless to say we compensated for our lack of attire by heavily abusing the promotional rum drinks. We were well and truly plastered before the night was even half through. Somehow I found myself in the separate members’ part of the bar (around the same time Glover was passed out in the train station next door) and was ‘asked’ to leave for being unsuitably dressed (and pissed).

When I eloquently protested this harsh and unfair treatment, enlightening the bouncer to the fact that this was an ‘undie’ party, he wasted no time in throwing my arse out into the street. I’ve never forgiven Bundy for this slight and to this day I’ve refused to touch Bundy rum (though in truth this is largely due to the involuntary reflux I get now from having drunk too much of it).

Being in the home of Bundy rum however, I decide it’s time to bury the hatchet and lay some ghosts to rest. I head out to the Bundy brewery (one of the ugliest buildings on the face of the planet) with the intention of showing Bundy I ‘m not one to hold a grudge (for more than seven years anyway); I’d extend the hand of friendship, go on the tour and sample their wares once again.

On arrival I’m informed that I’ve just missed the last tour of the day by five minutes. It seems those bastards at Bundy are still out to get me. Well screw them. I’m not drinking their crappy rum then.