Somebody was having their arsehole bleached. I rememeber it winking at me, just before the nice lady started dabbing at it with a paintbrush. I can't remember the name of the programme, just the before and after shots of the bleached bum. And I think Vanessa Feltz was there.

That's the last time we go to Chicago Cock. My sister used to be the "I'll just have an orange juice, and ooh, got to get home in time for ER" type. Now she's a "down it! down it! Waaay, I love this song, dance you fuckers, dance!" type. Consequently, what started off as a couple of cheap drinks in Wetherspoons turned into stupidly enthusiastic dancing to 'Loveshack' by the B-52's down at Fraggle Rock. Danny was jogging round the dance floor like a late 90's throwback.

Before you judge us too harshly, Chicago Rock Cafe is the only place in Chichester which stays open past 11, AND they did have a Christina Aguilera tribute act. Who had clearly put full confidence in her sanitary protection that evening, as she was wearing tight white trousers, through which you could see said sanitary protection far too clearly. Waaaarrrrghh, Bodee-fooorm...

My poor boyfriend sat and smoked himself into oblivion, he hates dancing and there's not much else to do there apart from play 'spot the love handle'. I swear, nobody in there was wearing jeans that actually fitted them. I now want to cover my face in cucumber slices and lie very still in a darkened room, with the scent of Lenor drifting from the freshly laundered sheets.