“It only took about ten seconds to realize he was very badly strung out and the effects on his mind were more than apparent. He couldn’t speak clearly, his hand-eye coordination was gone, he nodded off every few minutes, and woke up mumbling to imaginary people.
It was sad and awful to watch, like a car crash, you don’t want to look but. … So, to make matters worse, he kept passing out and his head would crack off the bar every time. Did his friends help him out of the club and into his bed / nearest treatment center / the hospital? No, they laughed at him and then – you won’t believe this – they took turns to plait his lanky, matted hair as he lay passed out on the bar. So he was kind of their hair doll, if you like. Then he’d wake up muttering to the imaginary people and all his friends burst their shit laughing because he wasn’t in a fit state to notice that they’d plaited his hair while he was ‘asleep.’ Then he’d pass out again, and someone would unknot the plaits and take a turn themselves. Un-fucking-real.”