Polyester,

or whatever it is that my charity shop '80s suit is cast from, is impervious to smoke, booze and creases. This is my experience from Vegas on Saturday, where we 'danced' (in fact, whenever I use the word 'dance' in relation to myself, I trust that you'll mentally place inverted commas around it) ourselves silly in honour of Luc and Marie's visit from Luxembourg.

Muscles that I did not know I possessed are stiff even today. Despite Jez's observation that dancing all night tends to limit the available drinking time, I still woke up with a diabolical hangover, leaden limbs and gummy eyes. Which was nice.