Talking of being drunk.

Yeah tell me about it!

I don't know; I don't remember. It was on only 5 pints of real ale; my mates went and got the train, I had a burger, at around 11.00pm. I started eating the burger...

Next thing I know, I'm sitting at home with a smoke in one hand, a cup of tea in the other, half way through a DVD, and it's 1.15am - I'd lost 2 hours 15 minutes - no idea what happened or if it was embarrassing though...

__________________________
Don't wanna be cremated or buried in a grave
Just dump me in a plastic bag and leave me on the pavement
A tribute to your modern world, your great society
I'm just another victim of your highrise fantasy!

Drinking after work, nothing to eat. Catching a 10-ish train home. Successfully-but-wobbily navigating the toob to catch the train at Vauxhall (bound for SW19). Waking up five hours later in an empty train in Guildford. Proceeding to get a taxi back to Wimbledon at great expense. Exiting taxi, puking on shoes. Making it home, and I still made it into work later that morning for 9am...

Ah, my youth...

John

Hmm - this was a while ago, after a very bad and stressful day of rehearsals...

Went out with friends to bar. They had a glass of wine; I had a bottle. Went to another bar, then to off licence, then back home. More wine, then Champagne, then Jack Daniel's.

Decided to go out with friends to local late night bar/club. More Jack Daniel's. Sick in toilet. Now about 2.30am. Decided it was time to go home.

Got about 30 yards down the street before passing out. Woke up face down on pavement, 3.15am. Got up. Realised I'd left my keys in my jacket, and my jacket in the club with my friends.

Staggered back to club. Jacket was simple leather jobby with two zip pockets across chest. Keys in left pocket. 'Charmed' my way past bouncers and went back into club, to find friends gone and a strange girl wearing my jacket, sitting in the same spot my friends had been.

Approached girl and attempted to explain (whilst trying not to pass out or be sick) that I didn't mind her wearing my jacket, but I needed my keys back so that I could get home. Girl said the jacket didn't belong to me, and please would I f*** off.

Rather than explaining again, I thought the quickest thing would be to reach into the jacket pocket and grab my keys. Couldn't find keys, and reaching into pocket involved accidentally fondling girl's breasts. Girl not amused; girl's boyfriend appeared and was not amused either. Said it was his jacket. Brief scuffle ensued.

Then my friends turned up. They had moved to another part of the bar, taking my jacket with them. Jacket girl was wearing, though similar, was not mine after all.

Don't remember walking home to my flat, where I lived above the landlady. I do remember falling backwards down the stairs whilst trying to open my front door. This would've been about 4am. And I do remember the landlady (in her 70s) appearing in a white nightgown at 7am, ringing my doorbell and telling me off for making such a racket.

That day's rehearsals started at 9am with very hard choreography involving loud music and lots of jumping. You can imagine how thrilled I was...

woke up in a daze in a" massage parlour" having done god knows what with a rarther nice black whore who did not speak english having used no protection what so ever!

Strange how alcohol affects how many clothes one wears and where one uses the toilet....

Got last train home from a media-party lovey, where there had been free booze for >12 hours. Being a sensible grown-up, I had left my bicycle at the station to complete the homeward journey in a semi-legal fashion. Spent so long trying to unlock bike, that the station staff went home. Finally unlocked bike, but found myself locked in station as the ticket office and barrier were now closed.
Climbed onto roof of station, dragging bike behind me. Fell off roof onto barbed wire fence, then rolled off onto pavement outside station. Broke glasses, tore jeans and buckled front wheel. Carried bike home.

Returned to station next day with stonking hangover and ranted at station man for locking me in. Taken politely by station man to small gate next to platform which is "always left unlocked sir".



I don't drink now.

For some reason all of my stories seem to revolve around losing the contents of my teenage stomach.....
After an evening that featured whisky, vodka and a pint glass of Martini Rosso I went to bed congratulating myself on managing to get to the toilet before vomiting. In the morning I discovered that I had actually vomited down the bathroom door, walked into the bathroom, spat into the toilet and then gone back to bed.
After drinking Atom Bombs (snakebite made with Special Brew), I felt unwell for some reason. A helpful soul put a bucket in front of me, I managed to vomit over the bucket onto my friend's living room carpet. Fortunately, my friend's St Bernard ate the vomit and saved us the trouble of clearing it up.
I attended a German Beer Festival when on a Twin Town Exchange Visit. After consuming 3 litres of real beer and a few whiskies I was absolutely bladdered - I couldn't see to focus my camera and had to guess the distances. I woke the next morning feeling not too bad, then I looked on the bedroom floor where a large pavement pizza had materialised. After cleaning this up with toilet paper and my face cloth I went to the sink to wash. The sink was full of dried vomit which I managed to poke through the plug-hole. Looking at my reflection in the mirror above the sink I realised that my hair was also full of dried vomit. After cleaning my hair and starting to feel the worse for wear I set off out for the day's (organised) entertainment - a visit to a brewery. I don't think I have ever felt so ill....

Went to listen to Barry Norman at Waterstones in manchester a while back. Went by train so that my wife would drive me home afterwards.

Arrived at the bookshop straight from work with no tea. Store thoughtfully provided loads of Chilean Cabernet sauvignon with a few peanuts for sustenance. Didn't realise how many (free) glasses I'd had.

Mr Norman enters. Me in an unbelievably loud stage whisper "Ooh isn't he old...?" Mrs S goes scarlet and asks me to shut up.

30 mins in get an overwhelming urge to pee. Sitting in the furthest corner from the stairs. This doesn't put me off in the slightest. Arrive at far side of venue and am ushered into the service lift. It has sliding iron doors. Crash bang whirr up 2 flights !

On the return journey I am stopped from entering the lift because of the din. Sadly the stairs bring me to the wrong side of the ground floor. Where's my lovely wife. Ah over there with about fifty people to edge past. Fifty excuse me's later and I'm back in my seat next to my other half who doesn't know whether to laugh or cry at the bumbling spectacle next to her. I had no idea I'd disrupted the do at all !!

Still at least we bought the book and had a pleasant evening out.