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Critic sets up two lucky students on a blind date (courtesy of the lovely people at Toast), complete with a bar tab and positive vibez, in an attempt to prove that Dunedinites can date. The only catch: the love birds each divulge all the salacious details of their date in a short snappy article after the fact.
PRINCE WILLIAM
Due to extremely good planning by Critic, Toast was not open when I arrived there. Finding it difficult to drunkenly stand, I sat down on a nearby bench. I saw a girl try to open the door and assumed shemust be my date. I was about to get up out of my seat on the park bench when a bearded man in his thirties began chatting up my date. I was about to go over there and fight both of them when the bearded manwalked off, probably intimidated by me. I went over to my date. Luckily for her, she was fucking hot! (Exclamation mark!) Otherwise I was gonna vomit on myself and run away. I’d already vomited on the bench a few minutes ago, and was not afraid to do so again.
After this we went to The Bog, where my date got me a mystery shot. One of the ingredients was obviously Frangelico because I’m allergic to hazelnuts. My oesophagus started to constrict, and breathing became difficult. She did nothing but stare at me blankly so I went to the toilet and took some antihistamines. Because I had been drinking, the antihistamines were not as effective as intended, and I went into mild anaphylactic shock. I waited in the toilet till the symptoms died down, to find my date hitting on an Irish man, believing him to be Liam Neeson, upon my return.
Upon leaving The Bog, two guys of uncertain sexuality began hitting on us both, grabbing both of our butts on an alarmingly regular basis. Most of what they said was incoherent, although one of them said this about his friend; “I’m not gay, but if this guy asked me to, I would fuck him”.
After this we went to Di Lusso, where the bartender Andy gave us free drinks. He was an awesome guy. I’m not gay, but if he had asked me to I would have fucked him, in a totally platonic way. We continued drinking here, watching a very horny fish hump a piece of wood in the fish tank; she wiped what I hope was chocolate onto the fish tank glass. I then went to the toilet and when I got back my date was nowhere to be seen. I walked home and had a massive cry into my pillow. Luckily it was 4am so my flatmates couldn’t hear me.
 
 
KATE MIDDLETON
 
Fuck Critic. A lot of the articles aren’t even good...I couldn’t think of anything more insulting to say, okay? But seriously, they didn’t even know that Toast would not be open the day I was going on my “date”. What a failure.

 
I was about to go home when I was apprehended by a strange bearded man. This was not my date. But the guy sitting lonesome outside Toast, sitting because he was too drunk to stand up, was my date. It was uncertain as to whether or not the pile of vomit on the sidewalk nearby was his. Signs pointed towards yes. I was about to bolt for the hills but my curiosity and the bottle of wine I had just downed made me ask if he was “waiting for anyone?”
 

We scampered off to Alibi and with no free bar tab, we got drunk slowly and expensively. Cheers Critic.
 

I got him a drink at The Bog, not knowing what it was but apparently he was too lightweight to handle it. He went bright red, and his face swelled up and made him look a little like Popeye. I didn’t want to say anything - thank God he fled to the toilet. He gave the impression of being very drunk so I took him for a walk and some fresh air; he seemed to think I was going to ditch him for the creepy guy claiming to be Liam Neeson or the guys who were hitting on me...and him.
 

I wanted to play a game of pool so we voyaged to the Baaa which was by coincidence closed AND also just a few doors from his flat. So I called a taxi and we went to the Octagon. He became very talkative when we got to Di Lusso. He even confessed that if the date had gone wrong he was going to pull out his pre-made bag of icing sugar and pretend to be a cocaine addict.
 

The bartender Andy was awesome. He even sympathised that we didn’t get our bar tab at Toast and gave us a drink each on the house. By the way Andy, I’m sorry for griming your fish tank with fingerprints. My drunken date then went to the toilet, came back, checked the wrong booth while looking for me, walked outside and did not return...?
 

It’s alright though, I got his last name. (Facebook stalker).