My name's Will and I'm a social alcoholic. It's been 11 months, 10 days and 20 hours since my last drink.
20 DAYS AND FOUR HOURS TIL SOBRIETY IS SUNK!
I'm still so excited about the looming end of this year-long idiocy that I feel I can survive anything without booze.
Which is handy. Because watching your balding, badly dressed, 30-something mates have a dance off in a crowded nightclub at 1am on a Tuesday morning - a Tuesday morning, mind you - takes all the strength you have.
Even in my salad days, I'm not sure I went out dancing on a Monday night. Monday nights ain't for dancing. They're not even really for talking, moving, thinking, or doing any type of thing other than watching TV, or perhaps quietly weeping at the thought of another 40 years until retirement.
Anyway, we had to go out last night because Gregg flies to Dubai tomorrow and it was his final, final leaving do. I knew it must have been an important night because Jimmy had been given permission to come out by Tam.
It was supposed to be a civilised night in the Penny Lane Wine Bar. And it was civilised. For a while. About ten of us then went to Lief and, at around 11pm, it was time to give Gregg a manly hug and say my goodbyes.
So I did. But then he made me go to Heebie Jeebies. The WAGs sensibly retired at this stage, so it was just me, Gregg, Jimmy, Gary, Cardy, Graham, Carl and Nick who braved sub-zero temperatures and headed for town.
HJs was packed with the usual crowd of students and trendy urbane types, who seemed a bit sniffy at the sight of so many unappealing men dusting off our moves in the smokers' courtyard.
They seemed perplexed that Jimmy would actually pull on one of his massive woolly gloves to do a Michael Jackson impression.
They seemed annoyed that Gregg would run across the courtyard and dive into Carl's arms in homage to the famous Dirty Dancing lift.
They even looked slightly hostile when Carl performed a near perfect River Dance jig on the stage.
As the only sober man present, I must admit to finding their behaviour embarrassing and life-affirming in equal measure. Yes, it was painful to watch at times, but what's wrong with a group of mates trying to give their pal a proper send off? What's wrong with a bunch of ageing hipsters re-discovering the joy of moving to music? What's wrong with waving your hands in the air like you just don't care? And what's wrong with buying Gregg a pack of herbal Viagara tablets from the toilets, making him take the lot, and then spending the rest of the night bellowing "FRAY! FRAY! HAVE YOU GOT A BONER YET?" across the crowded courtyard?
Actually, to be fair, there is something very wrong with that last bit. Jimmy went too far with that. And Gregg definitely shouldn't have shown it off. Bet he doesn't do that in Dubai.
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