Saturday night blues

I find myself at something of a loss tonight. as I look out of my window, I see hordes of people, evidently having enjoyed a good evening, wending their way home, albeit in a slightly shaky fashion. It's hard to describe their gait, but imagine Geoffrey Palmer, having been administered a sound thrashing by Tim Brooke-Taylor, and being forced to walk around with jelly in his trousers while the Nolan sisters look on and laugh, while Taylor and his bully boys hard lads stand there impressed. That sort of gait.