Excess jeanage.

I, for one, would notice if I had neglected to put my strides on, but smoke inhalation and post-coital endorphins can do funny things to the best of us.

Stevenage Leisure Park: wrong side of the tracks.

It’s perhaps not quite as grim as this in real life. At night with the bright lights turned on, one feels strangely drawn to SLP’s many attractions.

I’ll tell you what I really hate.

Here we go: what I really hate is when a friend tells someone else an anecdote, but they don’t tell it straight.
It’s an anecdote I know – in fact I was probably there at the time, which makes me a witness and/or key part of the story.

However, the storyteller is exaggerating most of the facts for comic effect. Meanwhile, the audience is looking at me in disbelief for affirmation – “Wow, is this really true?” their eyes seem to say.

The Carl Cox of popcorn.

As I loitered in the foyer, trying hard not look as though I was there to pick up girls, I looked up and saw this rather menacing chap wearing what looked like a welding mask in a DJ booth overlooking the exorbitantly-priced snacks.

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