Painstakingly spend 2+ hours choosing the perfect outfit and getting ready.

Decide that you look absolutely hideous and change clothes again for the twenty second time.

Go back to original outfit – trust the gut and tell yourself you look fabulous.

Drink as much alcohol as physically possibly before the taxi arrives – because pre-drinking is an art form.

Compliment your friends on how nice they all look and be depressed about how fat you are.

Drink your way past caring – sometimes, alcohol is the answer.

Spend at least 30 minutes in the smoking area, even if you don’t smoke (which you may well end up doing because hey, you’re on a girls night out).

Request a song that hasn’t been cool since 2001. WHO CARES? THIS IS MY JAM.

Make copious amounts of new friends in the female toilets that you tell your life story to (especially the nice attendant selling lollipops).

Shots. We’re not quite sure what’s in them, we don’t care, they just need to be colourful.

Text. Text everyone. Your mum, your ex, your old school teacher, your mates that are out with you. Everyone. Anyone.

Cry. There may be a reason for this crying, there may not be, either way, it’s probably happening.

Row with your best friend in the toilet, cry some more, instantly make a truce and then re-apply make up in the best way you can.

Find the nearest chicken shop, the place of deep-fried drunken dreams.

Think you’re the world’s funniest person and make lifelong friendships with all the workers of chicken shop.

Befriend the taxi driver and tell him way too many intimate details about this night and many other nights (and he never looks like this).

Attempt to find your way to bed, not forgetting to pit-stop at the fridge for further drunk eating.

The toughest step of all – the morning after. Prepare for these questions: - Why am I covered in cake and chicken bones? - Why do I have seven texts from ‘Tariq chicken shop’? - Where can I go to hide out for the next month?