"The Pledge of Allegiance does not end with 'Hail Satan!'"

...is probably one of my favourite blackboard lines from the opening sequence of The Simpsons. It still makes me snigger like a 10 year old, as it did last night, when I rolled in from my not-so-local Wetherspoons. Oof, Wetherspoons and its attractive cheapness always seems like a good idea, until you are forced to leave your table every time you want a cigarette because the only tables are either 'family' sections or non-smoking.

Monday club's cheapness was outweighed by the swarms of sequinned-miniskirted-stilletoes girly brigade, on their way to a heaving warehouse-like meat market. Soon, the sparkle of Primark sequin attracts some stripey shirted lager swilling halfwit, who reciprocates the cheap twinkle of the female with a sparkler of his own, usually a gold hoop or signet ring and a few chains discreetly placed upon his person.

They crowded around our table in a previously empty pub once the clock struck nine, flooding every inch of bar and floor space, girls teetering on their heels, boys leering openly. I think my personal prize for most questionable outfit goes to the girl in the aquamarine cotton kaftan and flip flops. Lets not forget that it's January and we're in England, on the coast. This sure as hell ain't Barbados. No doubt that she was desperate to showcase her winter-sun-holiday tan, the origins of this were dubious thanks to the streaks around her ankles. *cough*FAKETAN!*cough*

And then as the clock struck 10:30, they disappeared, as if by magic, leaving behind their half empty Stellas and dry white wines, no doubt to make it to the meat market before 11pm, when the price of entry rises by a whopping pound.

Let the carnage begin.