For future reference, it is really bloody hard to point at your back when you have downed a barrel of wine. It is really bloody hard to FIND your back when you have downed a barrel of wine. Just so you know.
This photo proves that I am out of touch with the youth of today. When Emma presented me with my t-shirt, gaily emblazoned with my surname, and the pink, fluffy antennae-ed hairband, I said 'But...Won't we look like a shitty looking hen party?'
And she said 'Yeah, I know, BRILLIANT or what?!'
Back in my day looking like a hen party was a bad thing. Then again, in my day we didn't find a drunk boy who had just wandered outside a pub for a smoke and force him to photograph our backsides. Nor did we choose the middle of Tramore's Main Street for this photo-shoot, nor did we roar 'Hey shitface, screw you- I'm posing here!' at passing automobiles.