Highlights of an evening of soul-crushing embarrassment and soul-enhancing re-bonding: Horrified tonsil-hockey with Commercial Manager, bites on my back from drunken Matt, conversation straining limits of politeness concerning ‘dirtbox’ action with David and Kate, a poem (short) named ‘Every Nice Girl Loves a Candle’ , all the vodka and tonic in the world, the wonderful Rhonda Carrier, and finally: leaving presents amounting to stretchy insects, Pot Noodles, Pork Pies, Futurama posters, X-men chocolate bars, From Hell and Microserfs – all contained in a great big brown box. The trial of fire is over – I have passed from my Time Out adolescence into manhood.
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