Shortly after delivering a rather over the top lecture on the evils of smoking on Saturday night, my brother staggered grey faced to the toilets and heaved into a sink for a good five minutes, not entirely managing to miss his t-shirt and shoes. This did somewhat nullify his argument, given as he'd probably done far more damage to his fresh young kidneys with 8 cans of Stella than I've even got close to inflicting on my lungs with a few quick puffs on a fag. So in conclusion, in your face, boyo!

You'll be pleased to know that I didn't take my camera along on Saturday night, to record the antics of the wild Sussex Six as they lurched around a popular nitespot. In summary, one member of the crew was taken home and put to sofa bed by 12, another waved his hands in the air like he just didn't care until they put the lights up at the end, one spent most of the evening teasing pricks and running away, one was trying to come to terms with being told she looked like Hilary Duff goes goth, one took it upon himself to become the sheriff of clubland and supervise the rest of the pack. And one snogged a man in the toilets for about 30 seconds, before coming to her senses, and then felt her blood turn to liquid nitrogen when she re-emerged to find aforementioned man talking to her boyfriend!!! How relieved she was when he became distracted by her sister, otherwise she may have had to accidentally knock him out with her handbag, or set fire to his hair.