Lesser writers than I will often say that something (ie. a tree, a zoo, quantum physics) is 'on acid' to give their readers a sense that, on this occasion, the 'something' in question is quirky, wacky (the worst word in our language after 'guestimate') or surreal. We should all mock such writing for the mundane pointlessness that it unceasingly exudes: though for the writer wishing to rise above it, the rejection of 'on acid' can sometimes provide an unforeseen challenge of linguistic dexterity.
Earlier this week I was stood in a room in Milton Keynes, at 11 in the morning, in a nightclub, shaking ex-England defender Martin Keown's hand. This unexpected event put a 'jackson on demerol'-like strain on my young and heathless heart. And it only got stranger.
Like Sherlock Holmes pretending to be Rosemarie or Thyme, we need to be clever here: Only a list of the facts can hope to capture the oddity of the morning event. Keown was present at Milton Keynes' Oceana nightclub in his position as ambassador for the Football Foundation: A role for which he seemed to have the utmost respect and gave the optimum dedication. Then we have the nightclub which was decorated in what Katie Price would imagine 'victorian' and 'classy' to be (complete with thong-wearing lady stencils subtly placed under the numerous chandeliers). All of this, every last drop of absurd faux-glamorous, football kicking wonder, was held within the Xscape, Milton Keynes' hugely successful indoor real-snow ski slope.
We're getting there, the setting is nearly sketched: Yet, I must tell you the 'why' of all this. Who had brought one of my Arsenal heroes here? Why in a nightclub? Who'd payed for the biscuits. The answer, as always, could be found in the historical artifacts (the over 50s to be precise) who were crowded round a large group of Macs.
The Saga-qualifiers were being taught the rudiments of social networking in an initiative supported by Age Concern, BT, Mr Keown's Football Foundation and others. What was it that Holmes used to say? 'Discount the impossible and your left with the truth, however improbable', was that it? Quite. And who were these teachers, these bringers of knowledge? You guessed it, the MK Dons boys' team, of course: They brought an easy-to-use attitude and calm enthusiasm that, surprisingly, made this strange event work. After an hour of IT it was, quite rightly, time for a rest.
And here is the final piece in this odd puzzle: By 'rest' the organisers meant 1950s'style Rock 'n' Roll dancing. So as well as a surprise meeting and hand-shaking with an instrumental member of 'the back four', I got to see him jiving a away to the sound of Buddy Holly. Amazing, eh? It turns out, then, that one of the single most unique and unexpected events of my young life was all in aid of helping the old and raising a number of charities' profiles: It worked, for sure, but did it have to be so odd? I could easily have ended up in a psychiatric hospital (and certainly would have if I had created this event up without it actually happening- this is ALL true). My only conclusion can be, after much consideration, that planet earth was, like, 'on acid' that morning.
