I had been living in London for almost a year and it was not what I had expected. The glamour of such a big city wore off quickly the first time I tried to get somewhere during a parade. I was swept up in a tidal wave of people with bad teeth and worse manners. My feet were trampled and my phone was stolen. I was beginning to hate London, and that had been 7 months ago.
I missed my family, I missed my old apartment in Toronto, and most of all I missed the man I left behind, Lance. The men I'd met here so far were all... well, they were all wankers! I was starting to get a little bit desperate for some action, and a couple of friends I had managed to make were determined to take me out and get me a "right proper shag." This is how my worst - and last - night in London began.