The guilty bat

Hey hey it's my 700th post and I'm typing away in an internet cafe just off Callao with a pair of tights on, an umbrella fastened to my armpits and a bra on my head. It's just gone midday.

I woke up this morning-after-Halloween feeling like shit.

Cricking my neck back into place and rubbing my eyes, it took me a while to figure out that I had slept on my doormat under my jacket, and that I couldn't get in because I didn't have my keys.

On further reflection, I remembered that I had been out the night before with H to a club and got horribly drunk, dressed up as a bat, hence the umbrella under my armpits and the fact that I had no phone or wallet as I'd left everything at hers.

Then I remembered I left her in the club after getting claustrophobic and tired, and I had walked home on my own leaving her to look after herself.

So here I am, developing a good sized cold and feeling like an Premier-league arsewipe.

Hangover and guilty conscience in full effect, I do feel like I should do something drastic, so as of today, for the time it takes to post the next 100 posts I am giving up alcohol.

There. I feel better already.
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