I’m over here in the Land of the Sleeping Drunk. I’m visiting Price for a week. What have we accomplished? We’ve consumed bathtub-sized quantities of alcohol and watched others do the same. Read on for more exciting pictures.

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So since I’ve done nothing but drink the past month in London, I figure I’ll start writing about all of the places I have been drinking.

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The Intrepid Fox is a heavy metal bar in London’s Soho district. I was skeptical at first, just because the term “heavy metal bar” could mean several things. Could be a plain old bar that plays heavy metal music. Could be a bar that just has a heavy metal theme night. Could a bar with heavy metal karaoke. Could be a bar with large cast iron object throughout the room.

This was a veritable heavy metal bar according to my guide, and he was quite right.

This is a 2 story monster (3 if you count the dungeon to the bathroom) of a bar, filled with everything a metal-head or punk kid would have a wet dream over. The whole of the place is pretty much lit red and black, and is filled with the requisite accouterments, like skulls, more skulls, devils, and even half of a hell-car hanging from the ceiling above the bar, adds a bit of a motor city feel to the place:

Can kinda see it over there. Along with the skull jester on the pole. Stuff like that all throughout.

One of the coolest features of the bar is the load of old concert and bands posters lining the walls, especially in the dark corridor leading to the disgusting bathrooms (trying to copy the filthiness of NYC bathrooms). Lots of good ole White Zombie ones etc.

Also, the bar was a literal wet dream for most metal kids, filled with attractive metal chicks, covered in tattoos and various levels of piercings. The bartenders were of course either intentionally rude, or over the top happy to serve you. Standard metal bar fare.

The top level apparently hosts live music, so I’ll be checking back and reporting additional findings.

Luckily for me, it was glam night as well. So lots of dudes in zebra striped leggings etc.

You can imagine how happy my drunk ass was to stumble upon this gem tonight. I mean come on, Horror Mix? That fucking rules.

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Garlic and Shots. Doesn’t sound very evil does it? Ohhhh but you are quite wrong sirs, quite quite wrong.

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“There’s snuffin’ like it!” Well, at least, that’s what Snuff Tobacco UK has to say about snuff, which one would expect. This isn’t necessarily on topic, but after this experience, I swear this shit is pure evil.

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I’m not sure if everyone is aware that what we Americans call Halloween doesn’t really happen anywhere else in the world. Of course the Holiday has deep historical roots, and it is by no means an American invention, but the modern versions of Samhain the rest of the world celebrates is not the full on Bacchanalian orgy of merchandising, devil worship, and liver destruction that Price and I value so much as an integral part of US culture. That’s why I always feel a little guilty when I see “Happy Halloween!” signs or other such bullshit when I’m abroad. It’s like we shoved it down their throats and I know they hate us for it. Just one more reason.

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Here we go. This sort of bullshit is what you would have experienced on a daily basis had I been able to post from London.

30,000 feet above the atlantic, it’s Vincent here.  I’m very drunk.  The clock says 12.09 am and we’re supposed to land in 3 hours and 20 minutes, giving me an arrival time of 3:30 am, or 8:30 Greenwich Mean Time.  Awesome.  I’ve been drinking from the bottle of vodka I purchased at the dutry free (dude omfg) store and have subsequently  spilled it all over my laptop and belongings. It’s ok. Alcohol is a cleaning agent.

The woman next to me has an enormous engagement ring, but doesn’t listen to Cradle of Filth (she asked me what I was listening to).  Odd that the two can coexist.

Supposedly we’re going to get serious turbulence in 45 minutes, or so the captain of this jalopy claims.  I don’t “fly well,” which means I tend to freak the fuck out on airplanes unless I’m severely intoxicated, so I’ve decided to handle the situation by drinking another triple and watching the Queens of the Stone Age set from Werchter, Belgium in 2007.  It’s a killer.  Josh Homme is my personal hero, and unless I’m mistaken, he’s Price’s as well.  Or perhaps Nick Oliveri.  I’ll get back with that.  Off to the show.

I think I poured to omuch vodka.  Moving upwards and onwards.

Enthralling stuff.

I’ll spare you more of that and get straight into the most amazing acquisition of the whole trip- my British officer’s jacket.

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Hey-o! I’m back from London. Remember when I said

for the next week I’ll be bringing you updates from all of my wicked adventures in London

Remember that? Lie. Sometimes things don’t work out. Due to unforeseen circumstances I couldn’t post to the website while I was away. However, I did manage to find many cool things in London and wrote about them, and took pictures and wrote about them, and drank a lot and wrote poorly about it, and broke my toe and wrote about that shit too. Only I couldn’t post these amazing entries. So I’m going to try to compile them into a form that’s not entirely boring and post them up either today or tomorrow. You can hardly bear the suspense. But you must.

That’s right, we’re going international with this gimmick! Well, I am. Price will be staying home to maintain our demonic NYC headquarters.

Now I know Halloween isn’t nearly the Holiday in the UK as it is here in the US, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t an endless array of evil things happening. I finna find ‘em, and for the next week I’ll be bringing you updates from all of my wicked adventures in London.

Stay tuned for 6 days of drunken posts about how awesome the cold weather is. Kidding. I hope.