I’ve seen the light and it doesn’t include shitloads of drugs

I have a little complaint. It concerns the fact that most of Exeter is buzzing off their tits on various illicit drugs.

Seriously, I can’t remember the last time I went out when the entire dancefloor wasn’t having a violent epileptic fit – and it’s becoming really, unbearably annoying.

Remember when everyone used to shit their pants at the idea of doing a little dab of MD at some underground rave they paid £35 to get into? Well, those days of experimentation are well and truly over. Every week people are relying solely on it to have a good time.

It’s unnecessary, expensive and a bit sad.

Oh this? Well I’m off to the pub later

Whatever happened to getting fucked off alcohol? Yes, the music at Cellar Door may be appalling, but do you really need a line of coke instead of a Jägerbomb to drown it out?

Is no-one else sick of arriving at a house party and having to dodge the guy crawling from the toilet who’s just entered into a tempestuous relationship with both Mandy and Charlie?

Trying not to look directly at the congealed sick dripping from his beard? Well. I’ll be making a sharpish exit.

I’m not saying people should stop taking drugs because of the harmful effects it has on your body. Anyone stupid enough to ingest horse tranquilliser knows the dangers full well.

Middle-class vigilantes: fuck the police

We’ve all heard those bullshit phrases like: “Ooh, but I’ll stop when I graduate, promise!” Will you stop, though? WILL YOU REALLY?

Either way, I don’t care. Just do it on your own time – away from everyone else. Go sit under some stairs and compose a fucking haiku. Do a bit of coke, then find yourself with the banjo.

Don’t subject the rest of sane society to your k-holing nightmares: “Where’s John?” “Oh, he’s just upstairs convulsing on someone’s bed” “What’s he like, ey! Ketty John! Might go see him in four hours when he’s regained control of his nervous system.”

Right Guard sales went up threefold after this particular rave

Meanwhile, some poor creature is forced to stand vigil over John in case he start choking on his own sick. No, thanks.

If you need a buzz that badly, just go for a coffee enema.

Surely, there’s nothing more character-building than cowering in the foetal position as a doctor (whichever housemate last shrieked SHOTGUN NOT) shoots searing hot Nescafe Gold Blend up your arse?

The humiliation factor will match, if not trump, gurning all night like an old man struggling with his new dentures – or sweating so profusely you’re forced to leave the room for half an hour to wring out all your clothes into a bath.

Quick post-lecture treat

Well, I’ve seen the light and it doesn’t include shitloads of drugs.

Recently, I’ve been dealing this really potent shit to rival ket. I grind up some grade A coriander stalks, add a drizzle of jasmine tea and give it all a blast with this fucking cool lighter I stole from my mum.

Only a tenner a gram and you’ll actually have such a sick night. My comedown? Ohhhhh. Mate. Went on for DAYS.