I am going to let you imagine a situation.
So you went to the local gay pride march and had fun and decided to go out and suddenly it's Monday morning. You're with a couple who you know from work and two other guys who seem lovely enough.
You don't see them as close friends but you've had great fun nonetheless.
They say: What?! No, you can't go home.
You are unsure of what to say.
It's 6am, south London. This is what you see before you.
What the fuck do you do? Great (a)moral questions of our time, bitches.
What the fuck do you do?
1/ Go home, boil the kettle and take a hot up of cocoa to bed with you.
2/ Unleash hell.
I can't believe I was fucking shit up on a Monday morning at 9am in Fire. Now that I'm 30 I can behave like a fucking degenerate.
While you were getting up to go to work and straightening your tie, I was on the dancefloor without a top on.
While you were picking up a copy of the Metro I was dancing at 140 beats per minute.
When you heard "please mind the gap between the train and the platform", I was bopping with some dude who tried to put his hand down my pants.
A few hours later, while you were looking over some crappy important work memos, I was sat opposite you on the tube.
You were stressed that it was a Monday morning and that you were on your way to work, to face a long week.
I was off my face.
I am fucked, broken, destroyed.
It's time for bed and I'm screwed. I love you.