The Journey from Dalston

I don't have too many Dalston memories. I could usually remember getting there, but getting back seemed to be the problem with us (ex) south of the river boys, such as Mansh ordering a kebab near Clapham Junction whilst wearing a black crushed velvet catsuit (or "assassin's outfit" as he called it) and subsequently walking through the front door avec chicken doner as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a man dressed as some kind of evil sprite in a pantomime to be wandering the streets of SW18 eating junk food, me getting a lift all the way home in the boot of a dodgy minicab whilst dressed as noddy holder, and on the memorable occasion when I didn't get (was incapable of getting?) home at all, the game of "you all play monopoly whilst I sulk and get my todger out" played by one person and nobody else (particularly not Sam, as I remember it). My other prevailing memory is inventing tequila roulette at the kitchen table, and then watching the carnage which ensued, particularly the look on Chrish's face at or just after midnight (just before the front window got put through (from the inside)).