When You Cry In The Night For The Love That You Need

I had one of the worst nights out of my life yesterday. Ok... so it wasn't that awful. But it was still the worst I've ever had.

I headed out to the office to meet up with the work crew for a few drinks for Sam America's 23rd birthday. It was actually nice to see everyone, i.e. some people in this country who I don't want dead, and a group of us headed out to the Rose.

Before we go any further I'll own up here and say I just wasn't in the mood to be going out; I was there only out of a sense of duty to Sam. So most of my lack of enjoyment was my own fault.

The Rose was packed out and the staff seemed to be under the illusion they were working in a dance club rather than a pub so they'd cranked the music volume up to be even louder than the already screamingly loud crowd. We stood around attempting to talk and gradually more and more of our group left. Being poor after my holiday, and not in the mood for drinking, I broke my record for slowest drinking and had 3 pints over 3 hours. Considering I normally guzzle one down every 15 minutes that's impressively slow.

It was extremely annoying having to stand for hours on end and I was in such a bad mood Tamara kept mentioning how hostile I looked. And I couldn't even find the will power to fancy even one of the guys in there. I knew then something was really up. Then Meredith shoved my face in her breasts... Joy...

By the time we got out of there only Sam, Meredith, Tamara, Owen and I were left. The latter three of us were sober. The first two were not. They had some sort of fight as we wandered towards Vauxhall bus station and I really felt like I wanted to get away. We got a bus and the Americans broke out the cans of Strongbow. "Oh how classy", I thought.

We ended up at Clapham High Street and some club named Inferno. Words fail me at this point. Imagine the tackiest place in the world. It's done out in hideous black and neon. It's empty. It SMELLS. Thank God I got in free. I would of thrown up if I'd paid the £10 entrance fee (HA!). Now I know I sound like a snob, but Owen and Tamara seemed to be having the same reaction. We sat in our special reserved area which wasn't too bad... except then the rest of Sam and Merediths friends turned up. Rude bastards that they were. No class... pretending to shag each other and having mock fights. Fucking hell kids, that might of been fun when you were 12...

Owen and Tamara seemed equally unimpressed and abandoned me for places unknown... thanks guys. Then Sam's mates tried to talk to me by saying how bored I looked. When I pointed out how truely crap this place was they told me "It's not the place that should matter but the people you are with". Thanks Gandhi... how trite.

I decided not to point out the difficulties I had with that statement and instead tactfully retreated... out the door and onto the tube. Where I become homicidal. I get on a train and the guy in front of me spends the whole journey swinging from a pole... not in a fun pole dancing kind of way but a dull one step forward, two steps back routine (not to music; I think he was just intellectually challenged). By the end of the journey I was pushed up against the door with his backpack in my chest. It was all I could do to stop myself reaching past his pack and snapping his neck. God, I hate being polite...

Finally I get off at Greenwich... and spend the journey home trying to get past an umbrella welding inebriate with the mind of an amoeba who kept swerving into my way... I used some relaxing breathing techniques to avoid stealing the umbrella and using it to spit roast her...

This country sucks.