Why we hate New Year's Eve!
New Year's Eve? Load of cobblers. While the swaying hordes are sliding over each other’s sick, having paid extortionate rates to enter some rubbish pub and have a stranger try and snog them, we'll be firmly ensconsed indoors, feeling smug and sipping on champers. And we’re not just being miserable party-poopers (well, not much), there's some rock-solid reasoning behind the hate…
It's far too expensive: NYE is one night when, for some inexplicable reason, people think paying £50 to get into some club is 'worth it'. It's not. Pubs and bars muscle in on the act, too, suddenly instilling 'door taxes' on hitherto free establishments, whereupon drinks get more pricey and you’re forced to eat the £75 'set menu'.
It's a nightmare getting home: Appreciative though we may be that the Tube runs all night now, it's still a merry hell using them. Long waits, drunk idiots and the shivery sense that 'I should be home by now' at 4am always gets the new year off to a depressing start. Cabs? You’ve got to be kidding. And don't get me started on the Nightbus...
It's full of idiots: Would any sane Londoner go into Leicester Square on a Saturday night, when it's full of tourists and boozy teenage girls? No. But we inflict the same crowd on us when we venture out into town on NYE. Guaranteed, it will be peopled by the sort of louty lads and brassy girls who love to 'live it up', i.e. act like complete goons.
People will try and snog you at midnight: It's true. And not usually the gorgeous boy/girl you’ve had your beady eye on - no, it's some sweaty, beery bloke or tarty-clothed minger. Oh yes.
It's a total anti-climax: With all the panic and anticipation attached to this one inconsequential evening, there's little wonder that it rarely lives up to expectations. Many a disillusioned New Year's Eve-r pitches home at 5am, lighter of pocket, smelling of smoke and sick with sore feet, wondering What on earth did I do that for?' Learn from your mistakes, hombres, and stay n...
