Yes that will be me then. It's been pounding all morning after a weekend of mad drinking with my mad drinking friend Beth. I don't think I've been to so many bars in 48 hours.
Being free and single she was half hoping to find romance in Ramsgate as she really hasn't had much luck in London, but was sadly disappointed by the quality of the men on offer. Most seem to think a series of unintelligible grunts followed by the words 'Show us your knickers' counts as flirtation, and I suppose that for most of the female population of Thanet on a Saturday night that would do the trick. Thankfully though, Beth's not really the kind to squeeze into a white lycra body tube that stretches to just below the pubic region and a millimetre above the areolas, let alone spending the entire day bleaching and straightening her hair, and gluing dead caterpillars to her eyelids, before trowelling in the Polyfilla for a cold October night out, so their charms were wasted on her.
But we did 'learn' a few things from the locals. We now 'know' that 90% of the inhabitants of Dalby Square are paedophiles, that Gary Glitter lives in Cliftonville and that one of the pillars of the local community has fatally succumbed to swine flu. Why is it that so much of the local gossip is so horribly negative? Or just plain shit? Sxx.