Its 2.30am and I've just seen a lad in the bus stop outside the Q bar looking, shall we say, confused. He sits on the bus stop bench with a thump and his checks billow.
I imagine that you know what happens next. Technicolour yawn, driving the porcelain bus home, talking to ralf, yes he throws up over himself and a portion of the bus stop. Probably not the worst thing to happen on Friday night, but he has now made himself unable to get home by taxi, as no one will take him, and perhaps he's been abandoned by his mates.
We walk towards him. In the Street Pastors kit we've got water, wipes, lollipops and if need be a space blanket. The later isn't needed but he gulps down the water to clean his mouth, the wet wipe sponges him down and washes his face so he looks presentable enough to get home. At the same time the rest of his mates turn up ad we check that they can manage and they whisk him off home.
The same place roughly, but a bit earlier in the evening. A lad is shouting the odds at the assembled Police officers and is very agitated. We move over to chat to him, to see what is going on. He tells us that he is f****** angry as he and his brother had been thrown out of a bar and the Police were talking to his brother and didn't want him to intervene. He on the other hand wants to sort out the problem with the Police. A lollipop and a chat persuades him that if he charges over to where his brother is talking to the Police, the Police are likely to arrest them both and the evening will be over, except for the hour or two he will spend in the cells. We chat to him, speak to the Police and after he calms down a bit his brother appears. They both stagger off in to the darkness to carry on their evenings excitements.
Apart from this we picked up loads of glass, gave out flip flops to those suffering from high high heel trauma and gave out loads of lollipops. Three am home on my push bike, tired tired tired and buzzed up by an exciting evening as a Street Pastor.
