Types Of Friends

Keep ‘em home; bring ‘em out? When you decide you are off for a razzle-dazzle tonight, who do you send a WhatsApp to? Your go-to’s and die-hards are great, but what about those pals we give an air of caution to? The pals who aren’t really friends-friends, or persistently won’t leave you alone when they bump into you down the Soho Wetherspoons reeking of Hooch.

Send ‘em home.

The Vommer

At the back of the night bus, in your mate’s handbag, and down their flared jeans, The Vommer starts on the Cherry Sourz before you’ve finished your first Kopparberg Mixed Fruits. They’re the Heaveie Nicks, Retch Armstrong, and Liz Hurley of the group. Watch ‘em closely, get and get the friggin’ girl some water for sipping before your crotch-deep in chunder chunks. We love ‘em, our dear barf beau’s, but roll that friggin' window down before you’re Monzo-ing 4-ways a Cleaning Fee.

Scrappy-Doo

It's a choice of Fight or Fight with this one. They’re scrappier than a B&M makeup table waiting for the bin men on the shit heap. One minute, you’re at the Be at One for Happy Hour. The next, you’re down the nick because our Joanna Bickering’s gobbed at the barman’s unstable boyfriend. They love a good showdown, a knock-out. It ain’t worth explaining to the bouncer that your bestie’s chinned their colleague because they said she looks like Kenny from South Park in that puffa.

The Lost One

The vodka voyager; spritz strayer, and the negroni nomad. They’re arm-in-arm with you one minute, vanished the next. You’ll never find them, despite the bar being so tiny you heard someone fart from the other corner. Are they outside? In the toilet? Nope. Still, they will turn up in an hour, covered in brambles even though you’re in Canary Wharf, inflatable fuck ring on their head. Their bag, phone, or wallet? That’s lost to the lucky finders-keepers. Where’ve they been? “Fuck knows.” They’ll tell you.

Bring ‘em out.

The Joker

They might work in Product Development for a bus company in the daytime but sit ‘em with a few drinks and watch what happens. They’re the master of accents and voices and will draw the good weirdos to your table. They’ll ask what Deb’s name is and begin a sentence with “d’ya wanna hear about…”, the reliable friend with the big personality, they’re a good egg. They’ll also heckle strangers and call people by their hometowns instead of their names.

The Sensible One

None of us wants to be that one. It’s a bit shit if we’re labelled that one. But my days, we all need this one. They’ll know that the Central line isn’t running tonight, what time Happy Hour stops at the venue (which they pre-booked, so we bypass the rejected walk-ins), and which O2 Academy is actually ours, so we don’t have to sweatily hog and huff ourselves from Kentish Town to Shepherd’s Bush. They’ll get us there on time, make sure we don’t miss out and get us home in one piece. And give them your ID to keep in their zip-loc, please.

The All-Rounder

They are not just there for tonight’s piss-up. They take you to coffee shops, you battle Oxford St Primarni together; four elbows are better than two. They actually speak to you on the phone instead of sending memes to stay in contact. They’ve been there for the ups and downs without question – like that time you accidentally took out a glass shelf in Tk Maxx with your ALDI baguette lopped out of your bag, are brutally honest, and don’t have an ounce of bullshit about them. The truest of the true, who’ll round up the vomiter and find the lost pal you’ve been stressing over, and bundle you home on the night bus, not a taxi, coz they love you, but not that much.