Chasing a chicken around London

We were invited on the weekend to partake in an age old British tradition: the (chicken) pub crawl.

I think this photo says it all

Michael met the guy in the photo about 10 seconds earlier. They bonded over their love of cockney rhyming slang.

The rules of the crawl were as follows:

• everyone puts their name and 20 pounds into a hat
• we are drawn into teams
• the last person to have their name drawn is the chicken, and has to donn a gigantic chicken suit
• the chicken then finds a pub in Soho and begins to drink the pot of money while the teams try to track her (in this case) down

 This would have worked flawlessly if there weren't 48 pubs in the geographical area we were assigned to crawl in. Both Booba and I attempted to pace ourselves, Booba by having 11 shots at the first 5 pubs he went to.

I on the other hand embarrassed myself by my inability to keep up with the MAD BRITISH DRINKERS in my team. Seriously the British drink like animals ( which seems to be a source of great pride on my pointing this out). On the plus side, I did get to sample about a dozen different ciders.