How would you spend your last night on earth? A Last Supper now looks like queuing for last orders if Scotland was anything to go by on Thursday, with drinkers desperate for a final pint in a pub before resigning themselves to a 16-day, prohibition-style existence. And as all of us face the prospect of rising cases and further lockdowns, a hedonistic counterculture is taking hold across the UK. In our modern dystopia, the 10pm kick-out from pubs and restaurants is moving vice behind closed doors, and all the usual suspects are present: sex, drugs and rock-and-roll – albeit played quietly in order to avoid the detection of the local authorities and fines of up to £10,000. When the first lockdown was announced, we had no time to think or make plans to commiserate. But this time, hedonists everywhere are seeking a last hurrah. In the last days of disco, “lockdown eve” is the new Christmas Eve; the announcement of the 10pm curfew last month had a group of lawyers I know in London wringing every last drip out of the bars on the night before it came into force.
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