So. I had a big Saurday night planned. I'd even made a list of Exciting New Places To Go. But then I got caught up in packing for holiday, and cleaning and suddenly it was half ten and I felt all middle-aged.
So, I went to the Black Cap. In the smoking garden a (not particularly attractive) straight man was telling a group of (very attractive) young gays "I guess we're all biseckshewell. Buy me enough drinks and we'll see."
An hour later, he was no closer to sleeping with any of them, but very drunk. I left, and went to Central Station for a last drink. I figured there'll either be cabaret or mildly amusing sleaze.
Up on the smoking terrace a man in Chelsea strip had his feet up on a guy in Man U kit, who was hunched over, lapping beer out of a dog bowl on the floor. "Pity Andy can't come," sighed Chelsea.
"Yurr," replied Man U, in between slurps. "Did you text him?"
"Oh, I did, but he's not replied."
"'Kay," replied Man U, burying himself in his bowl.
At which point, Chelsea took a long, deep drag on his cigarette, leant back and groaned powerfully.
I went home and watched Family Guy.
(PS: Yes, I checked the kit colours when I got home, and I was right. Clearly I have general knowledge. As soon as I get back from holiday, I am going out properly. To a place with bright lights and music that goes thump-thump-wheee and drunk gays who do the same.)