A friend writes ...
To Brighton. The club was on the seafront and called Fragment [Volks] I think. I was comforting a 6ft 8in black gay guy who was weeping over his man. "It doesn't matter how many men I rim, I can't get him out of my head." "Stop rimming them" I said. "It only makes it worse." Weeping like a baby he was. Next minute he was up throwing himself on the dance floor with his best mate - who had polio. He was in a wheelchair and had a harelip. Ooh the characters in Brighton!
Meow Meow feels like a cross between coke and ecstasy but without the "edge". It was perfectly nice, made me talk nine to the dozen and love everyone. The guy in the wheelchair was a real ungrateful bastard. I put some meow meow on my finger and shoved some up his nose to cheer him up. His response? "You're a bit stingy with that aren't you?" Cheeky fucker.
I was dancing to drum and bass (which I hate normally) dancing for four hours in four inch heels and I felt no pain! I went with my toyboy although he's my ex now. We didn't leave the club till 7am.
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