A friend's 20th tonight. I'm working 6-12 and my gaffer, whom both myself and my mate work for, has said he'll pay for the taxi into town. Thing is, my passport is fucked as it went through the washer, I always get ID'd in town and I'll be fucked if I'm remembered as the one who ruined that bloke's twentieth by dragging us all from the gleaming neon clubs and into the grot-strewn wasteland of your average English boozer. It's the truth, but it sounds weak. I need an excuse better than the truth, if you can dig that.