Islanders Keen to Address New Year’s Plans ‘Right F*cking Now’

ISLANDERS REFUSE to have another average NYE

Even though people are still drinking at St Martin’s bonfire, others have gathered together to ensure that this year’s New Year’s plans won’t be utterly diabolical.

Every year, islanders struggle to think of anything decent to do, and by the time December struts in with its kinky Santa outfit, every flight to anywhere is roughly £20,000. This year, islander Blake Dempsey is making extra effort to find any alternatives other than spending another year in one of Jersey’s bang-average nightclubs:

“No. Not again, I’m not being roped into spending £85 to spend a night in The Yacht when I can usually stumble in there for free. Nor am I having ‘a chilled one’ because Snapchat will be showing me videos of people holding sparklers somewhere fun and I fucking love sparklers, and alcohol.”

Dempsey has assembled his squad of mutant alcoholics in a vain attempt to plan some mad night, preferably somewhere in Manchester in a big warehouse with lots of drums and baselines:

“So, yeah I made a Whatsapp group. However, everyone knows that Whatsapp groups are criminally ignored at the most important times, like when you’re hungover at The Hungry Man and some family of 12 can’t decide what milkshakes to buy for their bitch children.”

“I like the idea of going to London but then people in Jersey don’t understand that London is 5x as expensive as Jersey and London doesn’t have a Mimosa.”

While Dempsey admits a trip away would be both feasible and ‘fairly decent’, prices of flying anywhere where they aren’t going to get murdered for wearing clothes from Roulette are looking thin:

“I’m currently looking at a night out in Wigan in a pub called ‘The Swan and Paedo.’ I mean, I’ve never been to Wigan but I don’t like how it sounds. I don’t particularly like swans either.”

“Plus, trying to get 27 people to agree on a location is like asking 27 priests to play basketball. Like, maybe 2 might agree, but the other 25 will just ignore it, then you’ve got 2 priests playing basketball in like, Wigan… and that’s just a weird thing to witness…

“This New Years is going to be a fucking disaster.”

Dempsey admits the most likely option for his New Year’s adventure is 9pm pre-drinks at his sister’s mate’s house, with the end product being Chambers and a Thai takeaway at 12:08am.

“I’ve said that my sister knows some hot girl who’s throwing a mad house party but this is only to make myself look like I have more than 3 people in my social circle. Likelihood is that I’ll end up going to her house party of 6, sit in the corner with my rum and coke and just watch them watch Jools Holland watch the big clock.”

Dempsey claims that unless his Whatsapp group picks up some steam, it’s going to be another year of dissapointment:

“Running this group is like running a fucking business. Like, why do only 2 of the 27 employees respond to my commands? The fuck are the other 25 doing? But when some popular cunt asks what everyone’s favourite colour is, they start fucking asking when his next sex tape auditions are.”

Though Dempsey is a proud man, he knows when the battle is lost:

“I mean, I could get back with my ex and spend it with her somewhere in St Brelades. Just a real quiet night, might actually give us a chance to finally talk things through.”

“Shame I’ll be in Mimosa all like the ting goes skrrrahh, pap, pap, ka-ka-ka skidiki-pap-pap, and a pu-pu-pudrrrr-boom skiiiiiyyyyyyaaaaa, du-du-ku-ku-dun-dun… poom, poom..

you dun’ know.”

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