So its Saturday night and your hitting the town with the lads. You have made the extra effort to look your best and will stop at nothing to get Claire (your best friend's sister) to notice you. It is really important that everything goes off without a hitch, but for some reason you are too self-conscious to rely on your own perception and limit yourself to two alternatives: to stay sober, to keep your senses intact or to get drunk off your arse, to obtain dutch courage.
Here are the two outcomes of that night....
Inside the club, you are the quietest person amongst a pact of drunken idiots. You are refereed to as a dry shite by your "friends" and are on the arse end of every joke told that night.
On the dance floor, your too concerned about not looking like a complete retard and remain in the one position, bobbing your head backwards and forwards, like a pigeon with tourettes.
You see Claire in the distance and send a pervy smile in her direction. She is obviously too drunk to notice your awkwardness and fingers you over to dance.
As you watch her dance around you some random skanger appears on the scene. He nudges you out of the way and throws his arms around Claire's waist. In a matter of seconds they are wearing the face's off each other, despite your neglected presence.
You think about giving this chap a lovely huke to the jaw, but in reality you pretend nothing is wrong and head to a toilet cubicle, staying there until the night has ended.
The minute you get through the doors, you head straight for the bar and lash back a heroic number of pints in an extremely short space of time.
Within the hour, your easily the drunkest person among your mates and begin the evening's entertainment by reciting a shockingly insulting joke about a particular minority (gingers).
Upon the dance floor, you manage to grab everyone's attention by demonstrating some reckless Irish jig, to the tune of Lady Gaga's bad romance. Your friends desperately try to avoid you and Claire takes her personal interest elsewhere.
During the peak of your binge, you notice that some random skanger has his arms wrapped around Claire's body. You immediately raise your fists for combat and throw yourself on top of him. The bouncers are immediately alerted, but you refuse to cooperate and remain glued to the scumbag's back, waiting hysterically for your friend's assistance.
However, no such help arrived....
Your not too sure how that particular night concluded, but waking up the next morning with a busted lip, a pounding headache and a stolen wallet could only suggest that it was one hell of a night!
*All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.