Turns out Lake Me is a polluted swamp of drink, debauchery, bad food, bad TV and sitting around for long periods in a pair of manky bed socks tweeting about Homes Under the Hammer. ('The fireplace needs to be replaced and the carpet is damp!! LOLZ :)'). Without my responsibilities I have no moral compass. I'm lazy and I'm greedy and I leer at 18 year old boys on the bus. I very rarely bother to brush my hair. I am a monster.
On day 1, I emerged from my scratcher at 10am, fiddled with my new phone, wrote a few choice words about vaginas for a magazine, watched 8 solid hours of daytime TV (including back to back episodes of Coach Trip from 2001) and went to the pub.
Day 2, I got up at 11, interviewed Katie Price's fanny waxer, went for a coffee with a friend, ate an entire packet of ham, went to a friend's house, scoffed 2 pizzas the size of my head, and tipsily fell over on the ice.
Day 3, I got up at 11.30, wallowed in the bath for an hour, met a friend for lunch, went shopping, got dressed up to the nines, got absolutely hammered on vodka and lemonade, went to a club and got propositioned for a threesome by a mortally drunk Swedish man. Refused this request for some bizarre reason, and fell into bed at 4.30am, too drunk to find my pyjamas.
Day 4, I got up at midday, found myself in a hole of post-debauchery despair, had some toast, watched a Lindsay Lohan film, ordered a massive curry for one and worried that I would die alone with Come Dine With Me still playing as my corpse festered on the sofa.
Bloody hell, it was brilliant.