Drunk in public

I got absolutely hammered last Thursday night. It was MP’s leaving party from work and we were at The Fine Line in Bow Churchyard. I was just going to pop down for a couple of small snifters but, having snuck off early and arrived at 4:30, I didn’t actually depart until a little after nine. I knew it was a good night because for the first time in many a long year I was smacked across the face by a woman. I’d like to say that I had deserved this but, unfortunately, it was not the case. As I was standing at the bar, rather jollied up by this point it must be said, a young man with spiky hair went to get served and me – being me – promptly ruffled his head. (I know; you don’t need to say). Myself and the people we were standing with then got into conversation with this equally drunk youth who was accompanied by an attractive young woman. She turned to face the bar and MP, thinking he was still living in a 70s sitcom, promptly grabbed her arse. She whirled round and smacked me right across the face and I burst into a fit of giggles at the mistake she’d made. Soon all was lovely again and half-an-hour later we realised they weren’t a couple when we saw the aforementioned woman snogging an even lovelier girl by the toilets. Those lesbians get everywhere these days. I went home, not before composing YD a goodnight text along the lines of “sleepy tight, night, night, love you bundles” only to get one back from my boss two minutes later telling me that he loved me too (yes, I’d sent it to the wrong phone; Dr Freud, make of that what you will).