I went to a leaving party at Revolution in Clapham, a rather expensive but enjoyable venue, where I consumed many vodkas. I don’t remember much, apart from telling the doorman as I was leaving that ‘Alexandra from the X-factor’s in there, you know. She’s gyrating about on a man from the Council library section. You’d better phone The Sun’.
It wasn’t Alexandra, of course, just someone who looked very similar.
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