My friend Alicia works in banking in the City, not so far from my hipster-esq ghetto (she thinks I work in media, I thought I would not contradict her as she thinks that basically all we do is lines and Playstation tournaments all day). Anyway, every now and then, she uses me as her wing woman to go out and play the suited and booted fields, in the City bars. We score every time; it’s easy but there are some basic rules to that game:

Pick the right day

The best time to go on a City pub crawls definitively are weekdays, like Tuesdays or Thursdays, when hardworking and worked-out men in suits are hitting the bars to unwind and grab a piece of what the City has best to offer: chicks. I am not gonna say that walking in Abacus feels like entering the lockers of a Welsh rugby club, but not that far. There’s a bit of competition (e.g. girls just doing the same as we do but obviously skankier) but a bit of ‘edginess’ (i.e. visible tattoos and platform heels) is enough to rank above the local female crowd.

The place is fueled with cheap alcohol (I once had to double check the bill – yep, 4 quid for 2 cocktails) and everyone is there for one thing: get mashed and pull.

Remember your right and your left. 

I appreciate that this is the burden of the fairer sex but I always mistake my right and my left. This becomes a crucial thing to watch out, especially after a few shots and vodka cranberries, as the City boys usually trick the ladies with swapping around their wedding ring. Some of them even keep a ring on their left hand, so “the chicks feels less threatened and talk to [them]”. True story, sis. The most important thing to remember is not necessarily which hand you write with, but the fact that in the end, nobody really cares.

☛ More: Sick Chirpse guide to Brazilian fight clubs

☛ More: Sick Chirpse guide to the most pit

☛ More: Sick Chirpse guide to fucked up food from around the world

☛ More: Sick Chirpse guide to UFO cults

Choose your prey wisely (or not).

Just to be clear, I am more into skinny jeans, Macbook air & coffee, 3-day bearded type of guys, so going out in the City is like going abroad for me (nothing I’ll bring back home basically). The best advice I can give is that, like traveling to some remote tribe in Amazonia, you must leave your habits and preconceptions at the door: Once a bloke told me “What do you wear if not a shirt?” – maybe a loin cloth?

Usually I let Alicia choose her prey and, as I am an extremely nice friend, I entertain the prey’s friend, as long as they entertain me back (and feed me vodka). Coz there’s some things that money can’t buy, and it’s amazing quote such as ” my company is on the stock exchange, you should buy shares if you like me”.

Refine your skill set. 

Alicia’s special skill is to find out within the first 10 mins what is the average salary of the guy she’s chatting up (usually twice my yearly salary, per month). I can see her from the corner of my eye, sitting like Audrey Hepburn’s and sipping a glass while I wait for her prey to go and get us the next round, which is basically the debrief break for us.

I quickly became aware of my own skill as I realised I could remember all the shit the intoxicated blokes were telling me: their full name, where they live, what they do, the name of their sister, their next holiday destination, what they are doing at the weekend, etc… My super power is my very good albeit drunk memory. This power reaches its full potential at the end of the night, or next morning, when the guy totally FREAKS out when he realises that wifey is waiting home, that their shirt is impregnated with some chicks perfume, and that chick knows EVERYTHING about them.

Actual bbm between the 2 guys. Too late dude.

Last but not least, remember your objective.

The most important piece of advice I can give you is to always remember the objectives you’ve set at the beginning of the night: have fun with your girl friend and get mashed for free. Double point if you get the guy to get a cab to your doorstep and then send him home (back to his wife) after suggesting he’d wash his face full of sparkling make-up of yours. Love isn’t in the City, but there’s lots of cheap fun up for grabs, and don’t forget that by the same occasion you may give a poor rich lad the time of his life!

Any City crawls stories fr0m any of you Sickies? Do you drink vodka? Wanna go out some time? Wink Wink.