I want to talk to you about different coloured things. We have all these choices, you see. Wednesday, Friday, Saturday or even Sunday? Stay in and buy coloured stuff to ingest or go out and spend a great deal more on more varied coloured stuff?

There’s all this stuff to choose from. Do you want pink stuff that burns your eyes, or do you want brown stuff that people drink by the PINT even though they’re not particularly thirsty? You can even buy clear stuff (so I’ve heard) that doesn’t taste or smell like anything. But it does the job apparently.

And then you are absolutely and totally judged on this coloured thing, how much you consume, how you consume it, how well you metabolise it. Consume too little, (‘heavy one last night’) and be prepared to be met with a chorus of boos and these people who were your ‘friends’ five minutes ago have turned into coloured things dealers. They want you to ingest. They chant for it. Hell, they BUY you things. Maybe it makes them feel less pointless. But then, consume too much- (‘excuse shir, can you ‘elp me? I’ve drank my weight in blue/brown/green stuff and I can’t feel the floor’) and be prepared to be met by a fanfare of approval. People will pat you on the back, they’ll tell you they love you, that you’re a legend- they’ll probably want to buy you more coloured things, just to see what’ll happen to you. And if you vomit over yourself/others, it’s like Mardi Gras. Never has there been more appreciation for involuntary expulsion of stomach contents.

But then where do you end up? The same place as everyone else. No, not Reflex sillys. You end up at home, in bed if you’re lucky. Last nights clothes strewn over room/house smelling like coloured stuff and smokey sticks. Usual best brand late night chicken box upside down, a greasy coffin. Your wallet is surprisingly empty, you have a receipt for a cash machine withdrawl at 2:08am which can’t be good at all. You’re probably alone because the coloured stuff turned you from a funny, witty person into a rambling, sweaty pervert. Or, an arguement started with your partner in the taxi about a chicken nugget. It went on for five hours, and you both eventually decided in your coloured dazes to go your seperate ways as the chicken nugget thing was actually a sign that you two had ‘serious problems’. You’ve tried to type in your phone what the row was about, because you knew at the time, it was the most important thing ever. But now you can’t seem to remember. And now you kind of miss them and want a cup of tea.

But don’t feel too down. Because when you go back to work, you’ll get to share coloured stuff stories. How much you consumed, how much you didn’t, how many £ you spent on coloured stuff, how well you metabolised it, did it make you ill? The winner is always the person who has ingested the most, over the longest period of time, who has the least money in their account and who did the most shameful/disgusting thing.

Good times, right?