The fish-faced Frenchie

This whole assumption that I have that all French females have this innate capacity to be fabulous, elegant and refined has somewhat been proved wrong. I walk into Liam's kitchen to be greeted by a young French girl with half of her fish dinner (it made it worse that it was fish) smothered across her face repeatedly telling me that she was drunk. Another false stereotype.

 Anyway, we can hardly harp on about un-ladylike, un-refined behaviour when we spent half our night with a plastic bag wrapped around our head. The ladylike intention was there I promise- to protect our hair from the rain.

So the French had decided to have ANOTHER strike (i'm all for a bit of assertion, but c'mon), which made it a complete nightmare getting to the LC club which incidentally was miles away. So we remained stationary on a tram for a good 45 minutes, which lead to rowdy French people. So when we finally got there, with the memory of the rowdy French and the fish-faced Frenchie fresh in my mind, I was keen on the idea that the French aren't refined anyway so proceeded to dance to "I want some hot stuff" and do the Beyoncé booty shake to "Crazy Love" with my shirt wrapped around my hair like I was some sort of wash-lady. Classsssyy! It was absolutely FAB, but stupidly packed so we left when the claustrophobia got the better of us. The walk home was about four miles long, but I was kept entertained by Jess falling down potholes, Liam groping me and Louisa's rendition of the Nottingham chav (I learnt what a "whombomb" is), making me feel right at home.