The weekend has landed.

All that exists now is clubs, drugs, pubs and parties.

I've got 48 hours off from the world, man. I'm gonna blow steam outa my head like a screaming kettle and talk cod**** to strangers all night.

I'm gonna lose the plot on the dance floor; the free radicals inside me are freaking man!

Tonight I'm Jip Travolta, I'm Peter Popper - I'm going to Never Never Land with my chosen family man.

We're gonna get more spaced out than Neil Armstrong ever did. Anything could happen tonight ya know!

This could be the best night of my life! I've 73 quid in my back burner, I'm gonna wax the lot, the Milky Bars are on me. Yeah!"


Well maybe not but it is the staff Christmas do today, we have a few dodgey characters rattling around the office, two in particular; one girl who cries when she drinks Gin, one bloke who punches mirrors when he drinks vodka, and many other members of staff who don't really want to socialise with each other but will be forced to tonight...it's gonna be fun.