The e-invite arrives. It's got tinsel GIFs and bits of snow on it.
You arrive at the place, and so far, it’s not awkward.
Excited people are being prematurely excited, but it’s cool. You pose for excited photos, looking excited.
You’ve found the door the canapés come out of. You will not move from this place.
Dinner is about to be served. You will move from your canapé area for this.
Whoever organised the seating has decided that tonight you will mingle with other departments.
Something happened and [SCENE DELETED] now you’re on the dance floor.
Like, really on the dance floor.
The girl from accounts is twerking. You cannot unsee.
You pick up the wrong coat and head home.
Despite the entire Christmas dinner you just ate, you stop for a kebab.
You post some selfies right about now that you will later come to regret.
You go to bed with your make-up or shoes or both still on.
You wake up and remember.
You go to work not quite sure whom you need to apologise to.
You receive a company-wide email including a gallery of photos featuring you.
And you swear that next year it will not be like this.
One too many regrets this Christmas? Do
Dryathlon: Give up booze for January, and get your friends to sponsor you for Cancer Research UK.