It’s 3:00a.m. You have been drinking for hours on end. You shuffle out of a club in Westlands, rummaging through your pockets for loose change to tip the security chap who was keeping an eye on your car. You find a few coins, some crumbled notes and a paper bearing a phone number and a name: Wendy. Hmm…I could have sworn she was called Winnie, you mumble under your breath as you slide into the driver’s seat and bang the door shut. Oh, the dregs of the night, the results of debauchery. What would be life without a note bearing a phone number from Wendy…or Winnie?