Tonight we had various opportunities for going out and socialising - in particular Fifth Avenue or the Chemistry Society Traffic Light Party. A Traffic Light Party is one where the colour of your clothing indicates your aims for the night: red ('I appear to have a girlfriend/boyfriend and am therefore unable to engage in acts of lewd debauchery with you'/'Get lost, you're all ugly'), orange ('I'm available... oh, actually you're a bit of a moose, no I'm not that available, sorry') or green ('Come on! Take me now!'). Having no green or orange in my wardrobe, I would have to improvise.   As it happened, despite the array of possibilities, I contrived to fall asleep after lunch and woke to find that it was teatime and I hadn't got any work done. Mark and Chris went to Fifth Avenue without me.   I am informed that I missed another demonstration of a libido gone wild from Dave at Filth Ave. Apparently he was engaged in advanced depravity with one Kathryn Deyes, a poor unfortunate who has undergone the Dave Experience before, and really should have learned from her mistakes. He attempted to evade detection by pursuing his amoral desires behind a pillar next to the dancefloor. Everyone saw him and Kathryn go behind the pillar and then emerge from its shadow a while later. Everyone leapt to the right conclusion. This was probably lost on him.
			The characters and situations in this diary are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happenings. Any resemblance to such things is coincidental, or just for humourous effect. All names have been chosen to implicate the innocent.