The club is crowded, the dance floor covered in bodies of patrons and lights flashing in technicolour.

Anthony sat in a private booth overlooking the dancers, smoking and drinking with his friends, each with a different beautiful woman on their arms.

Anthony sat alone, drinking from a bottle of whiskey and watching the dance floor with a bored expression.

They always did this, always just sat, found women for the night and drank until one of them -never Anthony- threw up.

He was bored. He was drunk.