A big group of us went out last night to celebrate Bunny’s birthday. We met at a pub before heading to a Ninjas vs. Pirates club night. Fran, Fat Sister, Keir and his girlfriend all took turns to support me.
As we walked from the pub to the club there was Keir on one side of me, holding a can of beer, and Fat Sister, on the other who was pissed. But I was the one who looked drunk. This impression was reinforced when Keir spilt beer over me after I’d dropped to the floor, leaving me smelling like a true Friday night casualty. The fact is, because of the ‘ticcing fits’, I’m taking a lot of diazepam at the moment, so I hadn’t had a thing to drink all evening.
At the club the security people were amazing and fast-tracked us in so we avoided the massive queue. Once inside, another partygoer, seeing me staggering around supported by my friends said, ‘It’s a bit early isn’t it?’ I couldn’t reply because he walked away. Instead, I looked at Fat Sister and said, “I suppose it is a bit early to have a neurological condition isn’t it? I should’ve waited until I was in my 80s.”
“Mince pie baby”