Thursday, 27th September 2001.
I was woken at 1am by the demented-monkey-like wails of UberTeenagers. They were
running around, slamming doors, and yelling in their pitch-shifting voices. Fantastic.
I dragged myself to breakfast before the pimpled hordes could shuffle in. Later they
arrived, boys dressed as either lipstick punks (anyone can buy an image these days) or
sporty types, and the girls all dolled up and still wearing pyjamas. What's the deal with