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Where are you? You open your eyes and quickly survey your surroundings. The light is pouring in through the ceiling to floor windows, light that repels you. Exposed brickwork, a dry swallow, a lick of your lips. You hide, naturally, in the corner of the room. You stay where you are as a cold sweat showers over you. You are reminded of so many weekends that would follow an industrious week at work, that moment when, emerging blinking into the sunlight with her, you instinctively hide your eyes from the world… Another fuzzy reawakening after yet another night spent cauterising your nerve endings, dulling your senses and deadening your soul in a soulless night spot. Your life is a whirlwind of drug-fuelled nights in designer bars wearing designer suits surrounded by designer people with whom you feel no sense of attachment whatsoever, but whose acceptance you are desperate for. In these nocturnal jaunts you accompany your partner in crime – and self-styled Whirlwind of Fun – Stephen Palmerston, desperately trying to fill the gaping void she left in your life.