I FEEL LIKE A PIG SHAT IN MY HEAD.
I look hot in clubs, and there's nothing you can say to deny it.
Last night Julie and I went on a wild rampage to the Garage, where I swapped numbers with an aging businessman with a receeding hairline, and asked two boys to marry me.
One boy I merely grabbed and spat into his whimpering face: "I LOVE YOU LET'S MARRY." The taxi came. "GOODBYE, MY FUTURE HUSBAND!" I roared, and bumped my mouth onto his pursed lips.
Another one I span around and engaged in conversation whilst in the que for our coats at the end. After 30 seconds of hearing - but not understanding - my gibbering gabbles, he realised the maniac he had unfortunately made eye contact with. He started to walk away.
"COME BACK" I cried to his turned back. "WE COULD START UP A FARM TOGETHER!"
No - ACTUALLY.