I swear I don't make this stuff up

So.

I finally scrape myself out of the house. And I go to a party, hosted by a lovely workmate. Which is wonderful.

So, about 10, my phone goes. It's a friend.

'Hey, Kim, we're on our way clubbing. Where's the Cross?'
'Uh... In the goods yards up behind Kings Cross, i think...'
'Yeah, we know that. But where exactly. You're the only person we can think of that might know'
'Err... Well, Um, I've never been. Sorry. But really, don't tell them. You'll ruin my reputation.'

Then, later.
A girl. Flirts. With. Me.
At least, I think so. She was wearing some kind of halternecked pinstripe number, with big heavy framed glasses, short black curly hair, vampish make-up*. German. She asked me to come on to a club. I was so confused, I declined. But, hey, it was an indy club, and I might have just been put off by the German thing; it's like chaff for Gaydar.

Then later. A terribly privileged and exclusive conversation in the boudoir of the host. Her housemate popped in.

'Ehm... was your friend coming on to me? Sorry, I just thought I'd check, I couldn't quite work it out...'
'Ha.. well... um. I suppose you could describe her as bi-curious.'
'Ah. OK. I was just wondering. I didn't like to presume.'

Then, even later - a whole length of a nightbus route later.

I'm walking down North Street in Clapham, doing my late night minding-my-own-don't-mess-me-about walk. And a voice comes out of a car window.

'Err, scuse me miss?'

Well, I'm nothing if not pathetically un-streetwise. i stopped.

'Eh?'
'Um, yeas, sorry - err, do you know the area?'

I bent forward, looked in the open window.

'Um... Well, a bit - I just moved here. What are you after?'
'Yeah, well, um, I'm trying to find - someone told me there was a red light area round here?'
'Uh, sorry?'
'Yeah, is there a red light area round here?'
'Um, what, you're looking for girls?'
'Yeah, yeah, that's right. Red light.'
'Uh... OK. Um, I'm sorry, but... I don't have any idea. I really don't know the area that well.'
'Oh. Ok.'
'Um... But, you know. You and me both. Better luck.'
'Right. Thanks'

And then, all of a sudden, the Beastie Boys fought for the right to party on my ipod.

Not a word of a lie.

Who won the Eurovision by the way? I ended up at a straight do...

* For those of you who get the cultural reference, sort of nearly like Jennifer Tilly in Bound, but not quite enough.