In a state of disrepair, I solemnly downed my 400mg Ibuprofen, 500mg Co-Codamol. No alcohol. Fully functioning human being amongst the idiotic masses. The supporting act was dire. I concede that I was feeling extremely unwell, the fervent bass rattling my empty stomach, causing waves of grim pain to pass through me. Struggling to heed reality, my accompanying party soon gave up trying to converse with me or associate with me. When the main act came on I was engulfed by fools and soon separated from my associates, standing alone. Amongst the writhing and undulating sea of foul cretins. Isolated. A youngster carrying a lager, clearly intoxicated, being more partial to a sip of WKD to while away the weekend bumped into me repeatedly whilst attempting to close in nearer to the stage. "Sorry mate," he slurred, leaning in closer to make himself heard "sorry, mate." Two vapid harlots began gyrating in front of me, firm buttocks, exquisite legs encapsulated within muted black tights. In my fragmented mind, I was livid at this blatant disregard of all that is deferential. Saxophone; bass; cowbell; theramin. An unmitigated urge to fuck.
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