Iain MacKinnon

Euan and I did something last night that we said we never would. I feel really really guilty. Usually I have to pressure him into stuff like this. Well, never did this, I must admit. He got really sweaty and nervous. He blushed a little bit and I had to brush the hair from his eyes. It was beautiful, but I regret it now and I'm sure he does, too. I guess you're wondering what we did. Well, I'll tell you.

Euan and I (me and Euan) agreed on something. That something came in the form of a six foot lizoidian friend of ours, called Iain MacKinnon. We both thought that lizoidians were immune to the effects of gin and lemonade, but obviously not. Our friend Iain MacKinnon was drunker than anyone we've ever seen before. He was swearing, shouting and doing online quizs faster and more drunkenly than when the Hoff and KIT won that pub quiz. It was horrific. I wish I could arrange this blog in an ordered fashion, but every time I start to, I get a flashback and need to use the toilet (in my pants).

To compare it to somebody else we saw drunk last night; our flatmate Liam banged on the door and did the buzzer for about 5 minutes at half three this morning, trying to get in from a night out. He was wasted and just giggled when we asked him what was up. Euan said he was angry, but didn't care because he was laughing so much. I'm not saying he did, but he may have had sick down his front and may not have been able to explain where he'd been since the clubs closed an hour before and EVEN AT THAT, he was more sober than Iain.

In the end, at about half one, when Iain had scared the majority of his flatmates out of the living room (one of them has even moved back to Manchester), Euan and I left the flat. As we left we heard gentle screaming in the background and felt ashamed that we let this happen.

Now he's got a hangover and I just feel guilty that I didn't stop him. Euan feels guilty, too, but he's showing it in his own way (wanking and crying).