’Thanks for coming to find me,’ Omar said later, leaning on Jim a little drunkenly.

‘Well, I couldn’t leave you slumming with that lot for May morning,’ said Jim. ‘They might have brainwashed you to join their Geek Gang by the end of the evening and you’d have been stuck with them forever, like some moonie in a cult.’

‘I like them,’ protested Omar. ‘I like Dieter, Ledley and Finola, and the rest of them.’

‘You see,’ said Jim. They’d started already. I came just in time.’

They’re sweet,’ insisted Omar.

‘Nope, dogs are sweet. They’re just wallpaper,’ Jim said meanly, waving to Karen who was waiting for them at the porter’s lodge.

By the time they got to Balliol, the stroll in the cool, damp air had begun to sober Omar up. In the bar, Jim insisted that he and Karen do some shots together: ‘We’ve got some catching up to do, Omar’s well ahead of us.’ Omar tried not to feel left out as they licked salt from each other’s hands, and bit the same piece of lemon. He was relieved when Giles and Lydia turned up.

‘Hey, Giles,’ said Jim, thumping him on his broad back. ‘And hello, Chlamydia. You look deliciously dirty tonight. Will I catch something if I snog you?’ He caught Lydia in his arms in a sweeping gesture.

Instead of being offended, Lydia giggled with so much delight that Karen looked almost cross. ‘Oh Jimmy, you’re so naughty.’

‘Oi, keep your faggot hands off my bitch,’ said Giles good-humouredly, heading to the bar; he often used appalling language in an attempt to cover up his old Etonian roots. ‘It’s going to be a long, long night,’ he said to Omar as he passed him, ‘and I’ve got to get through it on sodding alcohol-free lager.’

As they made for the Parks, the light, damp mist became a light but persistent shower, which didn’t get much heavier but showed no signs of abating. Normality had returned, as Jim was now the most drunk one in the group by far, and insisted on getting a stinking kebab, which he danced with while bellowing ‘Singin’ in the Rain’ tunelessly along Broad Street. The rest of them decided to follow Jim’s military planning, and dragged him along to New College Lane, where the party was still going strong. At some point in the early hours, fuelled by vodka and orange squash as the wine and beer had run out, bottles started spinning, in combination with Truth or Dare.

Omar, who’d been listening sympathetically to a girl crying about her love life in the chill-out room upstairs, walked in just as the bottle landed on Jim.

’Dare,’ Jim said.