Well, despite the best advice offered by my gut instinct (which I'm tending to ignore these days, seeing as it pretty much tells me never to leave the house), I went out on Wednesday night. And guess what? I actually had fun. I only spent £2.90, as Danny brought his flatmates along, all of whom bought rounds and after 6 I was floored anyway. We didn't get to do any dancing as all the bars we went to has achingly empty floors, so instead we went back to Danny's and played Who Would You Rather? I then lay on the floor and proceeded to empty the contents of my soul all over it, spewing forth horrible thoughts that nobody should have to hear, mostly insinuations about who is sleeping with who at work. I got accused of being a flirt and a tease and having a filthy mind. All of these are true. Johnny then decided it was time to take me home. I haven't seen anybody from work since. I don't know if I ever will again, socially speaking. But in the words of Father Ted: 'I've had my fun, and that's all that matters'.