Ben Doughty: The Life and Crimes of a Boxing Doyen

CamelCase

Teak Tough
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May 21, 2013
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He’s mostly posting old pictures of himself with famous figures within boxing, including this one with Roger Mayeeather who looks desperate to get away from Ben, his vice like grip and his gotcha questions.

 
Oct 21, 2016
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This is Chapter 17 of the book on which I have been working for the past 3 years, detailing my misadventures in various parts of the world in search of wisdom.

This segment relates to my first experience with psychedelic drugs, as a wide eyed 20 year old in Boulder, Colorado. It could have been worse:

“17 ACID (October 1990)

The next night I went out for drinks with Julian to see what Boulder had to offer a couple of sex hungry English musicians. When it came to the musician tag, I was heavily riding his coattails but, as the token roadie, I was in the band so far as I was concerned. We ended up in a hip student bar/restaurant called ‘The Sink’ which had murals on the walls. The most prominent illustration - ‘in honour of our star janitor, Robert Redford. After cleaning up at The Sink he went on to clean up in Hollywood.’

Near closing time we got talking to an attractive young lady who gave her name as Shannon. She was visibly inebriated and seemingly available. Julian made the early running before she announced, “You guys are so cute...! You can both sleep in my bed tonight... It’s ok.. I’ve had a threesome before...”

I’d been told that American girls were forward and this seemed like a wonderful confirmation but Julian balked. Taking me to one side he said, “Either you fuck her or I fuck her tonight. I’m not into seeing your arse pumping away...” The Smarm King simply had too many options to entertain such debauchery. As it happened, Shannon’s virtue would remain perfectly intact on this occasion albeit by accident rather than design.

As last orders were called she insisted we bundle into a car with her group of friends. Unfortunately, the cold night air induced it’s familiar nausea on the drunken and she threw up over her shoes before being jostled into the backseat. Amorous thoughts now banished, it was all about whether Shannon could remember where she lived. The designated driver didn’t seem too sure. By process of elimination, we eventually found the place she called home and everyone bar the driver got out of the vehicle. As a less drunk female friend walked her carefully to the door it was perfectly apparent that nobody would be getting so much as a peck on the cheek.

Empty handed, Julian and I walked back to Mario’s house which, mercifully, wasn’t too far away from the suburb we had found ourselves in. I would have to crash on the couch. Before nodding off, I consoled myself that there would be other promiscuous American chicks who could handle their drink.

Boulder reminded me of Stroud but with 50 times the potential for adventure, both carnal and narcotic. Culturally, it was a throwback to 1967 with copious swathes of tie dye and posters of Jim Morrison, The Grateful Dead, The Beatles and The Stones. Despite it’s limited land mass, the town was host to some 25, 000 students. I calculated that at least 8, 000 of those were nubile young women.

There were keg parties every night which allowed me to get drunk for nothing and the girls really did go crazy for an English accent. Consequently, my trips to Denver to pick up bits of work at the Stand By Agency became more and more sporadic. So long as I could lay my hands on something to eat everyday, drinking and socialising wasn’t a problem.

At one particular party, I was decidedly pissed when I asked some dark haired vixen for her phone number. Julian was a card carrying pick up artist and always seemed to ask for digits early so I followed his lead. I ended up with an impressive collection of phone numbers but little else. I enjoyed the attention and appearance of popularity but couldn’t seem to close the deal.

In this instance, neither of us could find pen or paper and so she scrawled the number on my forearm with mascara. The next thing I knew, Julian and I were in a taxi, en route to another shindig at a large house on the outskirts of town. As soon as we arrived, someone seemed to mention LSD at which I blurted, “Can you get us some...?”

Julian took control of the situation, evidently purchasing 2 pieces of blotter paper before handing one to me and warning, “Ben, take HALF....” Deaf to such counsel, I swallowed the whole thing on the spot before wandering into the kitchen where I bumped into Ted. Surprised to see him, I announced , “Hey Ted.. I’m on acid....” Perhaps he heard, ‘I want acid’ as he handed me another tab from his pocket which I also guzzled immediately.

2 hits for my first psychedelic experiment, paralytic drunk ,4,500 miles from home. What could possibly go wrong....?

There was a perfect blank of unknown duration and then I was fighting on a slippery green lawn against many assailants. There was noise, panic, voices and the crashing of knuckles on bone. One of my adversaries was brandishing something silver. It was mesmerising and beautiful. Somebody said it was a knife. Then I heard Julian...

“LEAVE HIM ALONE... ! CAN’T YOU SEE HE’S OUT OF HIS HEAD ON ACID....?!”

At this point, an older gentleman of around 40 intervened, putting his arm around me and saying, “It’s ok, Ben... BREATHE....” The melee was dispersed as Julian and my new friend walked me to a more secluded area of the garden where we sat down on deckchairs. The older guy was called John and he seemed to know a thing or two about LSD.

He told me to expunge myself of negative or aggressive thoughts. Observe. Breathe. Relax. I suddenly had an overwhelming sense of detached wisdom and serenity. ‘Father forgive them for they know not what they do....’ But, still, I was confused.

“What does it all mean...?”, I asked.

“Ben, if we define it, we limit it... But aren’t we lucky to have this...?”, John replied before apparently disappearing.

Seemingly in an instant, the sun came up over Boulder and the scene was of discarded cans and bottles, a few stragglers asleep on couches behind the patio doors. Still utterly twisted, we made our excuses and left, Julian at pains to apologise to a sawn off young sorority type for my swashbuckling behaviour. I assumed she must have lived in the house.

We walked for what might have been a thousand miles before we came to an empty baseball arena, presumably connected to the CU. Julian said it was too early to go back to Mario’s so we sat in the stands and attempted to have a conversation. Nothing made sense and everything was comical. I thought I could hear children chanting in unison. But I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

We walked some more and eventually arrived at Mario’s house. Mario and Debbie were out. Perhaps Julian had been waiting for them to vacate before daring to enter in our drug addled state. “Something to drink perhaps...?”, I suggested. He went to the kitchen and made me a glass of orange cordial before I proclaimed, “LOOK at my arm....! Can you see numbers..?

“Yeah..’ he shrugged.

“Perhaps it’s some kind of code...?”

“It’s that chick from last night’s number... She wrote it on your arm. Don’t you remember....?”

Disastrously, I decided to call the number. Not altogether surprisingly, a young American girl answered but she didn’t sound like the one I had met about 14 hours earlier. I didn’t know who I was asking for which obviously didn’t help.

“Heather....did you meet a foreign guy last night....?”

It turns out Heather did. She comes to the phone sounding impatient. She was ‘watching a movie...’ I’m pretty sure it was the worst attempted phone seduction in history. The facility of texting must have revolutionised a generation of sex lives but I was born too soon.. After an awkward 3 minutes of miscommunication, I hung up as Julian collapsed on the floor in a paroxysm of hysterical laughter.

The remainder of the day passed quickly and before long I was back in Keith’s tiny room, relating my misadventure. I was tired, drained and clearly had a lot to learn. “
 

Journeyman Jeff

Fucking sexy
Jun 6, 2012
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We stopped at a greasy spoon owned by an Italian family of John's acquaintance and sat near the door. He ordered a typical juxtaposition of bacon, sausage, eggs and toast and I ordered nothing, as apologetically as I could manage.
 
Reactions: NSFW and Grant

Journeyman Jeff

Fucking sexy
Jun 6, 2012
1,993
3,669
‘John drove me the rest of the way to Bushey station and tried to say something upbeat as we pulled up. "You'll get through this," he said simply before plucking £40 from his inside jacket pocket and handing it to me.
I took the money and meekly said, "Cheers,”, as I had become so accustomed to accepting money from so many people in denominations great and small at this point.
Having bid my friend farewell, I found the nearest off license and bought some more cans of trusty Stella before heading back to the platform. When you feel this spectacularly wretched, alcohol doesn't fix the situation.
It just makes you feel a little bit better.‘

So he took £40 off his mate with one hand whilst buying cans with the other.. this is going to be a good read.
 

Journeyman Jeff

Fucking sexy
Jun 6, 2012
1,993
3,669
Wandering around Stroud, more interested in beer than bag work, I would bump into old mates from the gym, like Gaz, Geordie or Tony Marlowe himself. They would seem vaguely perturbed by my black clothes, long coat, bracelets and cowboy boots. They would remind me of my astonishing fistic potential and urge me to get back in the gym and cut all of this nonsense out before it was 'too late.' I nodded politely and made the right noises but basically took no notice.
 
Jun 6, 2012
8,049
5,597
Wandering around Stroud, more interested in beer than bag work, I would bump into old mates from the gym, like Gaz, Geordie or Tony Marlowe himself. They would seem vaguely perturbed by my black clothes, long coat, bracelets and cowboy boots. They would remind me of my astonishing fistic potential and urge me to get back in the gym and cut all of this nonsense out before it was 'too late.' I nodded politely and made the right noises but basically took no notice.
Did he actually write 'my astonishing fistic potential'? :lol:

I dont really need to ask that.
 
Reactions: Journeyman Jeff