For reasons unbeknown to me (though thoroughly welcomed) my course decided to hold a somewhat presumptuous graduation party before we actually knew for sure that we had graduated. Now for background purposes I think it’s only right to tell you that many of the people on my university course seem to dislike me. Not really sure why, they just do. It could be because I’m loud and joke a lot, it could be because I tend to do alright, it could be because I (shock horror) like and get along with my lecturers. It could also be because, as demonstrated in this blog, I’m an idiot who does really silly things quite a lot. Who knows. Fact is though, not many seem to like me.*
Subsequently, feeling like the elephant in the corner I decided to drink like George Best on a holy day. Steadily intoxicated I proceeded to generally embarrass myself and be drunk. Dignity fail number one. After a while the majority of my course decided to move onto a club. Taxi’s were booked, everyone left …I missed the taxi or was left behind by everyone depending on how you look at it. Not to be defeated though I thought it wise to walk into the centre of Newcastle and join them. I was accompanied by my coursemate (who I think likes me) Tom. We (and by this I mean, I) stumbled off on our way stopping and starting a lot as I talked crap about probably loving Tom a little bit.
Finally we arrived and it’s a Saturday night so the queue is massive, Alton Towers size even. But determined, we brave the cold and wait for our turn to enter the mystic and now very blurry club. When we are stopped.
“ID?” Bellows the nasty looking man in the black suit.
“Ok,” I say, quietly wondering how on Earth he can justify ID’ing me and my manly beard.
Tom shows his and ambles inside, I reach into my pocket and remove my trusty passport, which, as I am a failure in life that can’t drive, is what I tend to use for ID. I open it to the correct page and show the chap.
“Step out of the queue mate.”
“What..?” As I glance at my passport to see my brothers face. It seems that somehow, I had managed to get my passport mixed up with my brothers, how I do not know. But, as he is not me and I am not him, it is not what you can call a sufficient piece of identification.
I leave the cue and it’s blurry faces, my face stinging red. Then I remember that I know the girl who organise the night at the club, she can get me in! So I queue again. Get to the front and ask the bouncer to get Lucy who organises the night.
“No can do mate, can’t leave the door.” He smirks.
“Well maybe I could pop into the office and grab her?”
“I don’t think so, we aren’t stupid.”
“But I know her!”
“If you know her so well why don’t you call her ?”
“Fine..” I reach in my pocket to get my mobile to find the battery has run out. I slowly do the walk of shame out of the queue for the second time that night.

At this, I decide that it is time to go home but first I need to make a decision. Do I get a taxi home or do I get food and walk home. I can only afford one. I choose the food (fish and chips if you must know) and head on my merry but humiliated way. About 3 minutes into my journey I see a group of raucous young men approaching me and our eyes meet, I nod, they slap my food out of my hands. All of a sudden I am back at school again.
“Well you’re a prick,” I say, drunkenly thinking I’m tough.
“You fucking what?” Shouts Conan the Barbarian.
“erm…whatever.” I falter as I walk away sensing the danger that could have ensued.
Then, with my back turned, he runs up behind me and punches me in the back of the head. My glasses fly off, I try to catch them only to just bat them further away in a very uncool fashion. Luckilly (because I’m not stupid) I had invested in the scratch proof lenses so they weren’t damaged, unlike my dignity on the other hand. I then amble home with a throbbing head, no friends, no food and no fun. I wake up the next day to discover that I actually did have enough money for both a taxi and food. If only, I think. If only I hadn’t poured a pint over Sexy Sarahs head.
*Important side note here – if you are on my course, I generally like all of you. Except for Colin. He’s a bad man but he hates me anyway so it’s equal footing, in a sense therefore we could even say that that puts us all back on speaking terms. Anyhoo, if you’re not Colin, please like me. I like having friends and I’m not nearly as precocious or nasty as I seem.

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