28. Essex, Essex, Essex!

By the time I had finally gotten home it was after 2:00pm and I immediately got in my car and went shopping with my sister. I had to keep up the momentum otherwise I knew I would crash and burn on my bed and not be able to go out that night.

Later on that evening my sister's friend Ken came round and asked if he could put his sim card in her phone as he needed to call someone but didn't have any battery. My delightful sister refused as it has wiped her phone of messages before and there were things on there she wanted to keep. So what does she do? She gives Ken MY phone! And alas, everything on my phone was wiped, the pictures from The Footballer, of his hot, hot body, and loads of messages that I had saved from him over the months. (I know, it's sad but some are just too sweet to get rid of) - months of hard work gone in an instant. I was so mad I cried, I actually cried. Looking back maybe it was just a little tres dramatic, but at the time I felt so crushed.

Anyway I soon realised that I should just shut up and get on with getting ready to go out (again). I decided to wear a comfy combo of skinny jeans with knee high boots and a boob-bursting tweed top I bought recently. The top button doesn't actually do up it's so tight but damn I love it! That top always gets results!

It was an unusual night out in Essex for me as:

1. None of my friends were there - they all cried off with various reasons - come on, what happened to the hard-core crew?!

2. My sister and her friends were. My sister NEVER goes to clubs - she hasn't been for about 5 years, no exaggeration! But as it was her friend's birthday and for the occasion she decided to grace us with her presence!

3. I wasn't going to Talk - my mecca, instead I was going to Mayhem, another club in Southend. (Who knew there was one?)

I have a new-found respect for Mayhem you know. It's the only club in Southend with a VIP area, you can hire this out in the form of pods and you can get waitress service. Very London.

So anyway, Basement Jaxx were appearing there that night and the queue was horrendous - I hate to admit that I am ruined, I can't contemplate queuing anymore, it just doesn't happen! I wish I could just do it but I can't. It seems wrong that I can get into the greatest clubs in London without even thinking of queuing or paying and get taken to a table with free drinks all night that would probably add up to the price of a small house, yet I would have to queue for some shabby Essex dive. No. Not working out. So we stand the other side of the door with about five others and get taken in straight away. The long queue at this point is booing but I don't care, ha ha! We get ushered inside and given Pod Passes (Mayhem's equilvalent of a VIP pass) and go through without paying a penny, no questions asked.

It got me thinking about that woman who scaled barriers in a ball gown and got into some of London's biggest premiers. If you act the part, look the part and seem as if you should be there - no one will question you. In other words: "Fake it until you make it." We weren't any different from anyone else in the queue, it's just they chose to queue up in the freezing cold for probably about two hours and pay £15 to get in, whereas I chose not to. I often think that when Saskia and I roll up to clubs and just head straight through, I look at the people queuing and wonder why they're not questioning the treatment they're getting. Once someone mistakenly asked us to pay, the look on our faces was as if she'd asked us to strip. She soon realised her error and we went straight through. But still.

Anyway, the whole night was good, got free drinks, saw Basement Jaxx, some boy was horrible to me so I got him chucked out, all in a night's work really. Was all going swimmingly until my dopey sister decided to walk into a door (yes, a door) and cut her eye open. We had to go to hospital and I got to sit in the front of the ambulance! I was well impressed!

Four hours, two triage appointments and some ranting and crying later (her, not me) we leave A and E with some steri-strips and what looks like a piece of toilet paper stuck to my sister's head. Always a good night that ends in injury I say!