Rochelle

Jesus. Even the thought of what I'm about to type makes me feel a bit uneasy…

So. I was out on Saturday night with some yoga pals bidding a fond farewell to a couple of brilliant yogi people who are leaving our sweaty little corner of West london for, ironically, the warmer climes of Australia in the next couple of weeks. After a bit of a get together at the studio we headed over the road to a pub that I've driven past loads over the last 10 years (it was on my route to work) and always thought I should check out but never did. Turns out it's a lovely pub with a massive garden and free wi-fi (BONUS).

On the downside, it turns out it's also home to Rochelle.

I say 'home,' but she was actually a patron just as we were. At least I think she was. Anyway, Rochelle … well, Rochelle was a treat in the loosest sense of the word.

Basically, at some point soon after we rocked up this middle-aged, very drunk woman named Rochelle latched on to a member of our group and apparently, although I did not witness this, started ramming her tongue down his throat. At some point he fended her off, and came and sat next to me.

Rochelle, seemingly oblivious to the fact that none of us knew who she was, followed and sat on the other side of him.

From that moment on the evening pretty much consisted of three of us verbally sparring with Rochelle, from attempting to answer her shouty question "WHERE IS THE SCRIPT?!" to her singing loudly (she actually wasn't too bad), and listening to her rabbit on about how she was friends with the actor Rufus Sewell to how her hand had appeared in an episode of the television show Bad Girls. She also made jewellery and was due in the south of France the next day, apparently. Throughout this, the poor chap she'd orally assaulted earlier in the evening kept turning to me and whispering "erm, will you help me?"

At some point during the evening I turned to speak to someone to my right and when I looked back the aforementioned chap had somehow slipped away from Rochelle's side and was now sitting opposite me grinning. I turned to my left to see Rochelle staring at me. "WHA' DOOO YOU DO?!" she shoutily slurred at me.

I don't know why, but at some point between my ears picking up what she said and my mouth answering I decided I was going to lie massively to Rochelle. "I'm an astrophysicist," I said.

I think my reckoning was that she'd have no interest in this, but it actually led to her going off on some sort of extreme rant about astrology and God with massive flailing arm gestures. I tried to diffuse the situation by saying something about the Hadron Large Collider, but that only resulted in me thinking I might end up wearing her pint at some point. Around this time I turned to look at the lady sitting next to me and with a broad smile on her face she said "I've never seen you look so scared."

Anyway, between a few of us I think we coped admirably under difficult circumstances. Unfortunately, as the evening wound down my cohorts in Rochelle containment managed to say their goodbyes and skip off rather quickly. As I stood up to leave Rochelle looked at me, sneered, and said "ain't ya gonna give me a hug goodnight?"

"Er, no." I replied with no uncertainty.

"Why not?!" she shrieked, understandably so when turned down by a testosterone-infused slab of man-meat such as yours truly.

"I have personal boundary issues," I lied.

Alas, this did not deter Rochelle and the next thing I know she'd thrown her arms around me. The woman was like the human equivalent of a Boa Constrictor, crushing my manly frame more and more with each breath. And to make matters worse her unnaturally strong bear-hug went on for an uncomfortably long period of time. I don't know what expression Rochelle had on her face at this point because I'd turned my face the other way, pleading someone to pry her off me. Unfortunately, no one came to my aid, and the next thing I know one hand had released itself from my upper body. Was she about to release me?

No.

With her free hand she forced my head around and planted a massive, almost hickey inducing smacker on my left cheek (facial, I hastily add). Only then, after a further 20 seconds or so of her attempting to suck my life force out through my face did the alcohol-fueled harridan let me go before vanishing into the night.

So while the pub certainly was a lovely venue, I doubt very much I'll be going back there anytime soon for fear that I might encounter Rochelle again. The mere thought sends a shiver down my spine.

And we never did find out where the script was.