Staying in is the new going out... (From Bradford Telegraph and Argus)

Staying in is the new going out...

8:44am Wednesday 2nd July 2008

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Going on a night out is great. Getting all dressed up, hair and make-up done, meeting up with all your mates for a chat and a bit of a laugh, maybe a little flirting with someone new, drinking a little wine or beer, listening to some nice music, and a bit of dancing.

Then on to have a nice meal at a little restaurant and then home. It sounds great – only it’s not like that at all.

It starts around 6pm, struggling for something to wear and ignoring the weather. Having a few pre-going out drinks while you’re getting ready, make-up on and an hour to do your hair.

Got your phone, keys, hair brush, lipstick, tissues, spare key, spare lipstick, pen, paper, more tissues and, of course, money. It costs too much for two taxis, so you get the bus giggling away all excited.

First to a little pub for another pre-going out drink before going into town. Now it’s getting dark and starting to rain but it hasn’t put you off. In town now, first nightclub, checking out competition and off to get a drink. An alcopop for a fiver served in a plastic disposable cup for your safety.

Start dancing now because the music’s pumping. Lights are flashing and the music’s too loud to talk anymore. Another drink, another dance, drink, dance, stagger, drink, swerve to join the massive queue forming outside the toilets. Everyone getting mad ’cos there isn’t any room.

Twenty minutes later, another drink, another fiver and it’s time to go. But not home, not yet. On to another nightclub round the corner, heard there’s a new bouncer who doesn’t know what your friend did in there last weekend. This club wants £15 in – bargain! Despite spending half a week’s wage in the previous club, you’re ready for another round. This one’s a lot more sophisticated – there are two toilets for a start. The queue in the rain has sobered you up a bit, but by the look of these prices you won’t be having many drinks in here anyway – even a coke sets you back three quid.

Just getting comfy when, oh no, it’s the old bouncer and he does remember what your mate did in there and you’re all turfed out. Wanted to go now anyway but still not home, on for something to eat.

A nice greasy doner kebab wrapped in paper eaten leaning against the club wall, rain pouring down, no coat, freezing cold waiting to join the taxi queue.

What’s wrong with staying in with a nice cup of tea, a packet of chocolate biscuits and a radio playing a ‘proper’ tune? All that pumping madness, toilet chaos and taxi trouble, that’s not for me. Next Saturday night, you won’t find me out knocking back over-priced vodka and orange, throwing up in the gutter in front of the bouncers.

You finally get a taxi then you’re outside digging out your keys and falling into your house. Then you crawl into bed with a paracetamol and a pint of water, praying it kicks in straight away.

Nope, staying in is for me. You can’t beat a bar of chocolate, some hot cocoa and a long game of scrabble before bed. 'Night then.

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