Wine out of Plastic Bottles

I was drinking red wine from a plastic bottle around East London, really Shoreditch like, for want of escaping the horrors of the smokers queue outside Vendome in Mayfair. Over-populated with Select models glaring through a theatrical haze; they don't inhale. I felt vacuous, in need of a bit of rough. So it was, I stumbled across Vice Magazine's launch night at The Old Blue. Feeling all the more vacuous for it being near empty- with that "last-orders!" foreboding one detests- I continued to stumble (you don't know when you've had enough until you've had more than enough is our philosophy) into a fellow from Arts London. I was invited to take mephedrone into the wee hours as he rubbed fingers through a greasy mop. Ah the contrast. Just what was needed. But in the end I settled on a one-piece from Perfect Fried Chicken on the East India.