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*Shake it off.. ah ah ah. Shake it off...*

As I was leaving the coffee shop, I couldn't help but hum the shit tunes that they had been playing.

At least it wasn't Christmas music though, that was a plus.

There would be enough of that twoddle at the office Christmas party tonight.

I took a sip of my coffee as I approached the entrance of the office and shook my head, wondering what antics would happen tonight.

*OI! BoomDawg!*

I snapped out of my musings and looked up.

Outside the office, smoking a fag, was a developer I recognised, *Kipper.*
<sub>Don't worry, he wasn't murdering a homosexual man. Fag in Scotland means cigarette.</sub>

*Morning, Kipper.*

I said as I jinked about to stay upwind of the foul smoke chuffing out of his mouth.

*Kipper* took a deep draw of his cigarette and fixed me with a calculating look.

*Christmas night out tonight.*

He said knowingly.

*Yup, it is indeed.*

I said with my customary handsomosity.

*I hear you are running with the Ten-Pinters?*

He said, spitting to the side then returning his flat gaze to me.

*The fucking what? No. No, I'm fucking not. There is no way on earth I am hanging about with that bunch and drinking ten pints of beer tonight*

I made a face as if my cat had left a skid mark on my pillow again.

*Kipper* nodded sagely.

*Might be able to make a space for you with the Whisky Boys, if yer interested.*

He remarked casually, staring off into the distance as if he had glimpsed a beaver, far off, building a dam.

*Aw, whisky, the whole night long. No thanks, man. I'm a maverick. A lone wolf. Cheers though.*

I moved on into the office.

Behind me his voice rang out.

*I'll keep a space... Just in case.*

The day trudged wearily on. Everyone was acting a little manic with the thought of all the free booze and madness to come later that night.

At lunchtime, I popped out for a sandwich. On my return, in the elevator, a girl who sat near me stared at my sandwich in disgust.

*What the fuck is that?*

She asked as if I were holding a dead rat with a shit in its mouth.

*Sandwich, making sure I've got something in my stomach before all the booze..*

I said jovially.

*Eatin's cheatin. None of us are having anything to eat before it.*

She tutted contemptuously at me and turned away. 

I presumed by *us* she was referring to her crew. Was I the only person not in a gang?

Out of the elevator. I headed back to my desk. On my way there, I caught sight of *Fenton-The-Cat-Smuggler* and the rest of the Ten-Pinters. 

He laughed then drew his hand across his throat.

*Ten Pints.*

He mouthed at me.

I snorted like an angry horse and ignored him.

With a sigh of relief I sat at my desk. Bloody gangs, there was no way I was going to be stuck in one.

*What you drinking tonight, Boomy?*

My mate *BinJuice* stopped by my desk.

*No idea, probably fancy beers and [picklebacks.](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pickleback)*

*BinJuice* jerked upright as if his rectum had announced it was voting for Brexit.

*Fucking hell. That sounds awesome. Can I be in your gang?*

I raised an eyebrow, a smile creeping over my beautiful face.

*My gang?.. Why, yes. Yes, you can.*