So, today was my friends birthday party. We went out for cocktails (which I was five hours late for by the way) then got kicked out at 00.16.

Clearly, the getting kicked out was not the birthday girl’s fault, and all of a sudden the night wasn’t about her any more, which slightly ruined things.

We then went on a little walk around central London and ended up in some shitty restaurant and encountered a minor celebrity.

Ended up with four of us in a bed in a little house in South East London. It was then that I decided that these stupid puerile nights out weren’t really my kind of thing. So I broke into my brothers house and am just going to pass out in his bed.

The realisation that you’re the quintessential party girl, who actually hates to party is the perfect way to end a night.