Ouch, ouch, ouch.

In the end some friends turned up, armed with curry and some really bad films (never was there a more appropriately named film than Bad Boys II - why the II? Was number one so terrible they had to make it again?)

First born was with her grandparents, so much boistrous behaviour ensued culminating in a ill-conceived drinking game (first we tried "a drink every time there's an explosion", but were clearly consuming far too much. Then we tried "a drink every time somebody is killed for no apparent reason other than to fill in the time between explosions". Again, the tequila bottle was emptying way too fast.

So, in the end, we gave up (round about the time Will Smith demolished a cuban shanty town with the aid of a Hummer.)

However, as I gaze proudly at the sleeping forms scattered around the living room and draped on various items of soft furnishing, and admire the detritus of the last evening; the empty beer cans, sundry bottles and print-outs from Cocktail.com I can confirm that the first step on the road to a debauched, hedonistic lifestyle has surely been taken.

Sadly, a step backward will also be taken in about an hour when I don the marigolds and clear this mess up.

*sigh*