Having successfully destroyed Skynet last week, our fearsome Luncheon Club had to dedicate itself to the destruction of something else on Sunday. But I wasn't there for any of that.
I went to the Big Gay Department Store Christmas party instead.
In hindsight, it's hard to see how I could have possibly thought that an evening trapped in a Bristol nightclub with people that I barely know/can tolerate would be a good idea. All I want from a nightclub is cheap booze, good music, and door staff that will refuse you entry if it looks like your clothes cost more than thirty quid.
Oceana offers none of these things. What it has is a whole bunch of different themed rooms, so that once you've been in one room long enough to completely lose your will to live, you can go to another room with differently terrible music and lose your will to live there.
I think the first room was called something like the Reykjavic Garish Ice House of Fail, and this is where the karaoke happened.
The air was thick with the stench of stale beer and utter fucking despair. Which incidentally is what I stank of when I woke up on the sofa at 3am, having passed out and spilt beer over myself. Again.
Moving further upstairs I found a new definition of pain and suffering in the New York Disco.
And then there was the buffet, which was best described as being full of beige things that you could fit in your mouth.
It eventually became apparent that it would be impossible for me to get drunk enough to adequately mask my contempt for the fucking shower of failed humanity I work with, so I left (and was picked up on my meandering stumble home by the heroic Dom) and made a mental note to never bother with this kind of shit again.