Tony's "Welcome Home" pub celebration went like a dream. By eight o'clock, we were both hopelessly pissed, and making obscene comments about immigrants and gay people.
Even though the tourist season has come to an end, we were lucky enough to stumble upon a german family, who were enjoying a quiet drink in the pub. Three weeks in prison had left Tony with a lot of pent up hatred, and so it was no surprise that the germans were on the receiving end of one of Tony's foul-mouthed attacks. The father asked Sid the landlord if Tony could be ejected from the premises, but Sid just laughed, and told the german fucker that it was the English who won the war, and if he wasn't happy, he could fuck off. Message received! The wife looked terribly upset, but as Tony said, we don't need people like them in the pub.
We managed to stagger back to our flat just after midnight, and heated up a couple of old cheeseburgers in the microwave. They actually tasted a lot better than when we first bought them, and Tony said that God should always bless America, because cheeseburgers and Budweiser beer are two of the finest things ever to come out of that country.
The neighbour upstairs complained that the music we played was too loud. She's spanish, and very hairy. Tony just laughed and said that she should have been deported years ago.