Your phone.
Are there?
- Mysterious new numbers belonging to MR TEQUILA and SEXXXY CAB DRIVER in your phone.
- Photos of a strange man's bum on your own cleavage.
- Texts from friends that say something like "CALL ME as sonn as you get this", "Are you OK?" or "Our friendship is over".
The evidence.
Your house.
Are there?
- A trail of kebab meat or toast leading to your pillow.
- A coctail glass by your bed which you suspect came from the second/third or fifth bar you visited last night.
- A stranger in your bed who you'd like to chuck out of th house silently before any of your flatmates withness your horrific judgement.
The evidence.
The flashbacks.
You vaguely remember...
- Clearing the dancefloor by getting your brolly out when Rihanna came on.
- A scared look on a mate/boyfriend/hot man's face.
- Arguing with the 24-hour garage attendant over the exotortionate price of a sausage roll or insisting the cabbie was trying to rip you off.