Jiz in my eye

The morning after is awkward enough without a pussing, half-closed red eye. This, combined with military style exit from offenders house to avoid parents and siblings, cash collection for taxi at morrisons in stilettos at 10.30am and an explanation to your brother, who's house you should have been staying at, made for potentially one of the worst walk of shames to date. Apart from the hickey incident. And the toga incident. And the onsie incident.

Sigh.

It's been a long, red eye day.