After licking our wounds (not a euphemism) due to the previous nights lack of success, we decided to try one of the islands other infamous hotspots. This particular club, Harbour Lights, had an unusual door policy. For the equivalent of about six pounds you not only gained entrance to the venue, you could also drink for free. All. Night. Long.

Despite several minutes asking, “Yes, but where’s the catch?” I could not find one and so we took our place at the bar to drink our body weights in Barbadian rum punch. This was a business model that would clearly not translate well in binge-drinking Britain.

After a short while we got talking to a couple of girls from England. Soon after, G went off to dance with his, and I was left to alienate the other one. I have always found it strange how being geographically accurate can sometimes be seen as offensive. Facts are facts, it is not like I was making stuff up. Technically I was correct, she was an “Essex Girl”. Not that the accuracy of my statement seemed to help. I may also have said something about arriving in a Ford Capri, my memory of the exact details is a little vague.

As the night/early morning began to draw to a close I noticed G and his lady friend in a three-way conversation with another young man. As per the previous evening, this young man, and his group of a dozen or so friends once again looked familiar. But I had been put on alert after the previous evening, and I was absolutely certain they were not footballers.  He would be fine.

G returned to the bar a few moments later.

“Fucking hell.” he began.

“What? Blown out again?”

“Yeah, this time by the Australian cricket team.”

I believe this is what is known as Karma. If you benefit from a free holiday to one of the best resorts in the world, you are destined to be unsuccessful in your pursuit of the opposite sex. I suppose this is why I always do well in Bognor Regis.