We've been out once during Freshers week. One poxy day! Dominic (A fine specimen who could open a Baked Beans can with a fixed stare...and then tea-bag it while dressed in pearly white briefs that mould round his heroic bottom) managed to pull an exotic dancer at an Australian themed bar, while me and Iranian Marc Avery (A fat gambler with an infectious laugh and a bulderen head) waddled home to go to sleep.

Last night, we opted for a night in to watch my Stanley Kubrick boxset in it's entirety. Dom happily relished his position on the sofa, ingesting the entire contents of his scintillant Magic Bag of Chemicals, why me and IMA kept steady with cans of Guinness. Apart from periodic gurning and fidgeting taking place on the sofa to my left, everything was fine as 'A Clockwork Orange'' breathed it's pixels from the television and slowed to a steady halt. It was as I placed 'Eyes Wide Shut'' into the DVD machine that D decided to reproduce that whirring, heady vibe of the 'cooool clubs in Big London, yeah (not an actual quote),'' in our living room setting. Lights off, pitch black, whop some Trance onto the Ipod speaker docks.
I sat in the corner, observed the scene and panned the length of the room. With each blue neon flicker (emulating from my Ipod speaker) I saw Dominic contorting on the couch, in a world of Rainbow Islands and Angelwings, envisioning them sweaty spaces at Manumission and Ministry, pumping girls why full of junk and ready to spray sprinkles into the blinding white....why Iranian Marc Avery sighed once more into his beer.

'I'm going to bed,''