We all know Cardiff has a reputation for being a great night out. Ask anyone who lives here, or has come here on a hen, stag or other boozy do, and they'll sing the city's praises.
There's a lot on offer, to be fair. From the cheesiness of Popworld and Live Lounge to basement raves held underneath an antiques store, to superstar-backed mini golf courses and social darts bars, as well as endless bars, pubs and clubs, there's seemingly something to keep you entertained all through the night.
But say it gets to 4am and you're stumbling through town, smashing chips and curry sauce into your face. What if, rather than get that taxi home, you power through? What could you do? Could you really go a whole 24-hours in Cardiff without getting bored? Predictably, it falls to me to answer these questions.
READ MORE: I went to Cardiff's 'worst-rated' kebab house and was left stunned by what I ate
Now, don't worry. This isn't going to be an exhaustive 24-hour account of what I got up to last Friday. With its huge array of shops, restaurants, walking routes, historic attractions and all kinds of other activities, we all know how you can entertain yourself in Cardiff during the daytime - even though I spent much of mine tapping away at my desk.
No, this ill-fated mission is to test whether Cardiff is a city that never sleeps. There's plenty of life in it during the day, but how does it fare into the wee small hours, when most are - quite rightfully - in bed? Could I really go through the night without a single moment of boredom?
Our evening begins in Pontcanna. It's not my usual watering hole by any means, but sitting in the Pontcanna Inn surrounded by friends and gently nursing a couple of pints of lager feels like a comfortable, if slightly underwhelming start to this epic journey. At just gone 8pm, it was already full of life, with large gaggles of friends setting themselves up for the long weekend over a few drinks.
It's a little bit pricey, sure. But with 12 hours of God knows what ahead of me, I was more than happy to pace myself. To be honest, it was such a laid-back atmosphere that I could have stayed in there all night, but admittedly that would have made this whole endeavour even more pointless than it already was.
It was time to head into the city centre, which as expected on the Friday of a Bank Holiday weekend, was absolutely rammed. Walking down St Mary Street, the thumping bass of the clubs and pubs either side of you is just about drowned out by the squawking crowds gathered in the smoking areas outside. A woman screams at her friends that she's left one of her high heels in a taxi. Metres away, a man goes to the toilet against a bench. It's 10pm.
With only a couple of pints down us, myself and my support team couldn't bring ourselves to go clubbing just yet. We needed to find sanctuary somewhere cheap and cheerful where the good times would still roll. So, in what many are now dubbing a horrendous oversight, we headed to 'Spoons.
Yeah, I know. Walking down Womanby Lane, which looks stunning once darkness falls, there were probably several better options we could have made. Soz. We were playing it safe and there's no harm in that. Sometimes you just can't beat a £1.20 pint, even if the big boss looks like a startled owl.
And the Gatekeeper - a venue I recently passionately defended against TripAdvisor snobbery - gave us exactly what we needed. With a few more pints of cut-price beer in front of me, I set about planning the next stage of what so far had been a largely uneventful night.
By now, however, it was already approaching midnight and thankfully things were starting to get a bit more exciting. Tasked with finding somewhere to go as we moved into Saturday morning, I settled on trying out a recent addition to Cardiff's nightlife scene.
Offering til 2am and offering everything from ten-pin bowling to beer pong, basketball and karaoke, Roxy Lanes, above the Superdrug store on Queen Street, was the ideal next stop on our journey. Just moments after leaving the pub, the four of us that remained were facing off on the lanes, with one game of bowling setting us back a tenner each.
It was slightly on the expensive side, sure, but it was good fun, with the blaring music, funky neon lighting and a well-run bar, serving up everything from pints of Guinness to fancy-looking cocktails, helping to keep the party atmosphere going. The result of the game itself, meanwhile, is irrelevant.
We were really enjoying ourselves and we had plenty of time to spare, so we tried our hand at some of Roxy's other offerings, including the basketball and American pool, which took us through to closing time as the clock struck two.
My entourage had halved again, leaving just me and my girlfriend to fend for ourselves. With the idea of going to a club now seemingly abandoned for good, we went in search of another activity at a venue a short walk away.
When it gets to 2am, what could be more fun than firing up a game of Mario Kart? Luckily for us, retro arcade bar NQ64 on St Mary Street was open for another hour, although was already starting to empty out. This meant we had free reign on the various arcade machines and I took my losses on the karting track, boxing ring and battlefield as humbly as I did at the bowling alley earlier in the night, while we both enjoyed cocktails themed around classic games.
As I unashamedly gloated about finally winning a game (thank God for FIFA), it was time to move on again. And by this point, my girlfriend decided she'd also had enough and was calling it a night - that is, after we'd grabbed some late-night grub.
And when you need sustenance at 3am in Cardiff, there's only one place to head. Caroline Street was our next call and while we were tempted by the old guard of Dorothy's and Tony's, we opted for a new favourite of mine - Fellas - where we were promptly served up a mixed donor kebab the size of my head. Absolutely cracking stuff.
That mountain of food was going to keep me busy and I was glad for it. With clubs, bars and even chippies starting to shut up shop and with my only company happily heading back home in a taxi, I was on my own and for the first time in the night, had no idea what to do next.
In the end, it turned out, I did very little. Munching on unidentified strips of meat, I took myself on a little walkabout around the city centre, to see if I could find a few characters who were still up at this time of night.
But the streets that had been swarming with people a few hours earlier were now eerily quiet. Frankly, it's not a stretch to say it was a ghost town. Aside from the group of lads trading punches outside a McDonald's and the police officers trying to break it up, as well as the one market worker who grumbled at me when I greeted him with an all-too cheery 'good morning', there was pretty much no-one around.
I quite liked my walkabout, but after an hour or so of not very much happening, I was bored. Cardiff, it seemed, was fast asleep.
Sunrise was fast approaching and, for some reason, I decided I had to get out of the city centre. A train to Penarth left in 45 minutes time, but I couldn't wait that much longer. Having seen off a fair few pints over the course of the night, the NextBike seemed like a bad idea. A reasonably-priced taxi it was.
Within minutes, the quiet hum of the city centre had turned to a crisp silence, as I found myself strolling through Penarth towards the seafront, knowing that there was a chance I could be met with a stunning sunrise that would make this whole damned ordeal worth it. As I walked down a tree-lined hill, the chirping of birds became almost deafening, while the sweet morning air soon proved sickly.
As I emerged from the trees and stared out at the iconic pier, however, I was slightly underwhelmed as I was met with heavy cloud which merged into the high tide to form a relentlessly grey seascape ahead of me. With my feet now beginning to hum, I collapsed into a bench overlooking the front and began to reconsider the life choices I had made that had led me to this point.
But while I initially thought that I wasting my time, I soon realised that this was exactly what I needed. The gentle crash of the waves onto the pebble beach and the soft whoosh of the wind that rolled past me became incredibly therapeutic and I completely zoned out for around half an hour.
In the far distance, I could hear the laughter of the Dawn Stalkers, a group of swimmers who go for very early morning dips on the seafront. Now, if I'd had my trunks with me and I wasn't so worse for wear, I could have been tempted. But I didn't, and I was. Another time, I thought.
As rain began to fall, I trudged back up the hill to Penarth station, with my bleary eyes just about making the time out to be 6.30am. Fairly unsurprisingly, I was the only person waiting on the platform for the train to take me back into the city centre.
The 11 hour mark had been reached and my bed was calling, if not screaming my name. I'd done all nighters before (legend) but I was really starting to flag now.
Having seen off that comically-sized kebab just mere hours ago, I wasn't exactly starving, but I knew I could only bring this 24 hour mission to an end with a breakfast. I knew full well there were Cardiff institutions I could head to, including the legendary Bentley's Cafe in Roath, or Elmers Cafe in nearby Cathays - but I'd had enough and I absolutely bottled it with a Starbucks. Yeah, I'm angry about that too.
Shattered, I headed back home and collapsed into bed just before 8am, getting a good few hours of sleep in before snoozing my way through the King's coronation.
So, in conclusion then, is Cardiff a 24-hour city? No, no it's not. It's got 22 hours in it at a push. But then again, maybe I did it wrong. In fact I probably did do it wrong. And in any case, do we even want it to be alive and kicking 24/7? What's wrong with an early night? Who knows? I don't. Anyway, I'm off to bed.
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