I’m not going to keep going on about it, but this time last year I was on holiday in Marbella for my Birthday.  So this year, I’m like ‘Ok let’s organise a big trip to Ministry’. Oh my GOD.  Organising a group of people to go up to London for the night is, I should imagine more difficult than organising the Israel/Palestine peach process. I have honestly never had such murders trying to gather people and get them somewhere. Clearly it’s my fault for being the popular ray of sunshine I am and having too many groups of different friends. So anyway, the end result is, I’m going to Unit 7 in Basildon because it’s easy to get to and less hassle. If anyone else has a similar problem when organising a night out, I’ve put together an ‘objection handling guide’ for you.

I’m already busy on that evening.

Really? Because last time I checked I was literally your only friend without kids and you hate your boyfriend, so what could you possibly be doing that is more important than my super fun night out? Also, this night out is in April and I told you about it in January? Seriously, WSD (write shit down), you are NOT getting out of it.

I don’t have the money.

None of the people that are going poop gold bars either, but we’re not going on a week’s holiday to Las Vegas. I’m sure if I tell in you enough notice you can manage to stop spending your money on ‘Pick Me Up’ and ‘Love It’ for a couple of weeks and stop paying that woman in the nail shop to butcher your eyebrows so badly you claim you are ‘never going there again’.

I have nothing to wear.

Really. You have NO clothes? I wondered why you kept turning up naked to work! Silly me, I know now.

I’m too old.

There is a bar woman who works in the Pink Toothbrush in Rayleigh, and she is god honestly about 70. Now if Pearl can see her way to wearing an Iron Maiden vest top and pouring you Rodney’s until 4am, I’m sure you can make the effort to come out for a couple of glasses of wine on Friday. Age is only a number, and I’ve been to raves at Ministry where there are people there older than my Mum. Let’s look on the bright side, you can save space in your bag and not bother with your I.D.

I don’t like that venue.

I don’t like living in England. I don’t like not being a millionaire. I don’t like it that I can’t live on a diet of bon bons and look like Lucy from TOWIE. I don’t like it when I run out of lacto-free milk. I don’t like changing the bins. I don’t like it when you can’t find the remote despite just having it in your hands and you are stuck watching a documentary about the River Nile.

Do you see where I’m going with this?