Things you have done when Drunk ......
Discussion
Of the three last attempts to get into the university club for our rugby club's alumni weekend I have succeded zero times. This year woke up with one hand in a vicious stinging nettle bush, the two years before I succeded in perhaps limiting my chances of EVER being let in by saying that the new regime of "in before 1am or you lose the right to come in at all" was akin to a 1940s German political party - and the head of ENTS (a previous good friend and rugby player too) was throwing the toys out of his pram.
Once, at uni after polishing off half a bottle of poteen, I had to be picked up from the high street by a friend who had been persuaded to do so - but had caveatted his rescue by taking my car from my drive - at the time a ford cougar v6. I, having ruined the night for my wingman, was delivered back to the latter's house as they were worried I would hurt myself at my flat (lived on my own). Refused to get out of the car apparently and I'd crawled over from the passenger seat to the driver's seat when we arrived, leaning on the electric seat motor and crushing myself under the steering wheel.
My mate's housemate at the time was in the TA, and I was put up in their spare bedroom where he hung all his uniform and webbing etc. A nondescript, non-decorated room, I awoke feeling like absolute death convinced I had been arrested by the MP (It was an army town). Cue much laughter when I arose from the pit that afternoon.
Once, at uni after polishing off half a bottle of poteen, I had to be picked up from the high street by a friend who had been persuaded to do so - but had caveatted his rescue by taking my car from my drive - at the time a ford cougar v6. I, having ruined the night for my wingman, was delivered back to the latter's house as they were worried I would hurt myself at my flat (lived on my own). Refused to get out of the car apparently and I'd crawled over from the passenger seat to the driver's seat when we arrived, leaning on the electric seat motor and crushing myself under the steering wheel.
My mate's housemate at the time was in the TA, and I was put up in their spare bedroom where he hung all his uniform and webbing etc. A nondescript, non-decorated room, I awoke feeling like absolute death convinced I had been arrested by the MP (It was an army town). Cue much laughter when I arose from the pit that afternoon.
Just read through a lot of this thread having a proper giggle... Two from me.
In Benidorm on my best mates Stag do (yes I was best man), I attracted some young hot male attention in a nightclub, which is odd... Being pissed beyond comprehension, I proceeded to accompany them to a nearby alley. Half way through being noshed off, I realised I wasn't in for a cracking threesome, I was being mugged. The other one had done my wallet and mobile
Then....
Whilst attempting to walk home one evening from the local pub I found walking in a straight line rather difficult. I stumbled against someone's front garden hedge (not a euphemism). My height and momentum took me over the hedge landing in their front garden.
Attempts to stand up were futile, and having kicked over their garden water feature, I decided to stay there, as it was a warm evening.
However, I can I believe legitimately blame the pavements adverse camber, as an hour or so later, some short fat f
ker fell against the same bit of hedge, but being little, he went through it. He landed on top of me, and the water feature. This in turn work up the occupants.
In Benidorm on my best mates Stag do (yes I was best man), I attracted some young hot male attention in a nightclub, which is odd... Being pissed beyond comprehension, I proceeded to accompany them to a nearby alley. Half way through being noshed off, I realised I wasn't in for a cracking threesome, I was being mugged. The other one had done my wallet and mobile
Then....
Whilst attempting to walk home one evening from the local pub I found walking in a straight line rather difficult. I stumbled against someone's front garden hedge (not a euphemism). My height and momentum took me over the hedge landing in their front garden.
Attempts to stand up were futile, and having kicked over their garden water feature, I decided to stay there, as it was a warm evening.
However, I can I believe legitimately blame the pavements adverse camber, as an hour or so later, some short fat f
ker fell against the same bit of hedge, but being little, he went through it. He landed on top of me, and the water feature. This in turn work up the occupants.Found a childs lunchbox (with food) on the sea front and threw the contents at people.
Attempted to climb a lamp post and fell off.
Attempted to run across a line of beach huts and broke some stuff, not me, the huts.
Lost a shoe so walked the 3 miles home in one shoe and a sock.
Woke up one morning (in bed) not remembering how I got home wearing just a single sock.
Attempted to climb a lamp post and fell off.
Attempted to run across a line of beach huts and broke some stuff, not me, the huts.
Lost a shoe so walked the 3 miles home in one shoe and a sock.
Woke up one morning (in bed) not remembering how I got home wearing just a single sock.
A few, mainly from the uni days....
An awful lot of bush diving (not an euphemism), more often then not whilst wearing my best clothes, into blackcurrent/bramble bushes, in berry season....
Taking a small inflatable boat and a crate of beer onto the reading university whiteknights lake and finishing the lot (15 cans)
Sick in the corner of most bars/the student union, nearly always discreetly enough to carry on with the night following a chew gum
Regularly used to "catch a fish" in the small pond underneath/next to one of the buildings outside the union = stripping off to pants to catch a goldfish with our bare hands, usually in the middle of winter....typically our mates would then run off with our clothes....
Walk of shame, on a Thursday morning, at school start time, from Wokingham Road - Opposite side of campus, wearing 1) a dress, tights and pink wig 2) a full good quality teletubby outfit
Played Amy Winehands and completed it in 30 minutes.....after a night out where plenty more booze was consumed I somehow made it back but thought it a good idea to get ready for work whilst awake (had about 90 mins before I had to leave to make my rota'ed shift), I successfully managed to put my comet uniform on but then passed out, mid chunder in the halls communal bathroom...I was then woken up by a friend opening the door (unsuccessfully) into my head, causing further vom....all over the room. They then returned with a camera and the picture that went round on here, regularly photoshop,ed of me in my full Comet uniform, looking rough as fk was born...
And....this wouldn't be PH without faecal matter......
I played a lot of drinking fifa with mates (I'm awful at it!) I then cooked noodles, dropping most into the sink, I recovered the majority and scoffed the lot....later on that evening (after the night out) I was getting into bed when the uncontrollable urge to both be sick and st came over me.....sat (naked) on my fabirc office chair I thought I'd hold the rear and use the bin to catch the front.....I caught the front but failed to manage the rear.....went fking everywhere. I was then stuck....naked, sat in my own st, and 2 storeys away from the nearest bathroom at 4am...
I ran for it, locking the mess in the room and sprinted downstairs (undoubtedly very noisily) but starkers....brushing st against the hall walls, bannister, toilet underside (how?) and any door I came across as I went. After a basic wipe up, evacuating the rest and another chunder (into the bog this time) I had a shower and walked back up to the disaster zone that was my bedroom.
The scene was something from KSI, st on the carpet, the chair and even my laptop (again how?). On top of all of this the stink of st and vom was overwhelming. Having some newly purchased fairly liquid, a couple of bog rolls and an already ruined bin I set about the clean up operation (somehow I'm pretty coherent when pissed, either that or the st was sobering me up rapidly).
I squirted half the contents of the fairy onto the chair seat and rubbed the fairy st mixture with the bog roll. Although hoping to clean the thing enough to be passable my efforts were clearly in vain as all I'd done was create a bubbly, stty, now off green mess of st, fabric and foam padding. Realising my efforts were in vein my mind turned to how I could conceal the evidence, to prevent a ribbing at the hands of my housemates for whom taking the piss was the done thing.
Now with trousers on I gingerly opened the door to make sure nobody was around and as quietly as i could (not very evidently) i carried the st chair down the ground floor, past the bathroom and out into the back garden banging every door frame, corner or wall as I went. Now our garden wasn't particularly big, ~3m of grotty patio and another ~5m of what was grass but was now more thistle, bramble and self-sown bush after 9 months of nothing. I carried/dragged the chair to the very far corner and unceremoniously tipped it over a low chain fence into the equally overgrown garden next door. Thinking I've got away with it, it run back up to my room, lock the door and pass out, in bed.
Needless to say come the next morning (early afternoon) I'm woken by my housemates pounding on my door. Still half spinning and hugely hanging I wake up in a bedroom that stinks like a public toilet. st, booze, BO and vom......nice. Eventually I open the door and am confronted, by both my housemates and the state of the hallway immediately outside the room. st.
Not feeling up to round 2 I turn immediately and go back to the room, however looking out to the garden they're there - looking at the now very obvious foot prints taking them to the scene of devastation that is the fking chair. I emerge, trying to protect it and cover (some) dignity but they're already filming....
Turns out they heard just about everything, apparently I wasn't as quiet as I'd thought......all on camera (no escaping them) I had to recover the st covered chair, now an off black green, khaki as you will, carry it back up a flight of stairs to the front door, into the back of my car and drive, undoubtedly still over the limit to Reading dump over near the station to dispose of the fking thing :/
Likely a few more but think they're best left for another day!
An awful lot of bush diving (not an euphemism), more often then not whilst wearing my best clothes, into blackcurrent/bramble bushes, in berry season....
Taking a small inflatable boat and a crate of beer onto the reading university whiteknights lake and finishing the lot (15 cans)
Sick in the corner of most bars/the student union, nearly always discreetly enough to carry on with the night following a chew gum
Regularly used to "catch a fish" in the small pond underneath/next to one of the buildings outside the union = stripping off to pants to catch a goldfish with our bare hands, usually in the middle of winter....typically our mates would then run off with our clothes....
Walk of shame, on a Thursday morning, at school start time, from Wokingham Road - Opposite side of campus, wearing 1) a dress, tights and pink wig 2) a full good quality teletubby outfit
Played Amy Winehands and completed it in 30 minutes.....after a night out where plenty more booze was consumed I somehow made it back but thought it a good idea to get ready for work whilst awake (had about 90 mins before I had to leave to make my rota'ed shift), I successfully managed to put my comet uniform on but then passed out, mid chunder in the halls communal bathroom...I was then woken up by a friend opening the door (unsuccessfully) into my head, causing further vom....all over the room. They then returned with a camera and the picture that went round on here, regularly photoshop,ed of me in my full Comet uniform, looking rough as f
k was born... And....this wouldn't be PH without faecal matter......
I played a lot of drinking fifa with mates (I'm awful at it!) I then cooked noodles, dropping most into the sink, I recovered the majority and scoffed the lot....later on that evening (after the night out) I was getting into bed when the uncontrollable urge to both be sick and s
t came over me.....sat (naked) on my fabirc office chair I thought I'd hold the rear and use the bin to catch the front.....I caught the front but failed to manage the rear.....went fking everywhere. I was then stuck....naked, sat in my own st, and 2 storeys away from the nearest bathroom at 4am...I ran for it, locking the mess in the room and sprinted downstairs (undoubtedly very noisily) but starkers....brushing s
t against the hall walls, bannister, toilet underside (how?) and any door I came across as I went. After a basic wipe up, evacuating the rest and another chunder (into the bog this time) I had a shower and walked back up to the disaster zone that was my bedroom.The scene was something from KSI, s
t on the carpet, the chair and even my laptop (again how?). On top of all of this the stink of st and vom was overwhelming. Having some newly purchased fairly liquid, a couple of bog rolls and an already ruined bin I set about the clean up operation (somehow I'm pretty coherent when pissed, either that or the st was sobering me up rapidly). I squirted half the contents of the fairy onto the chair seat and rubbed the fairy s
t mixture with the bog roll. Although hoping to clean the thing enough to be passable my efforts were clearly in vain as all I'd done was create a bubbly, stty, now off green mess of st, fabric and foam padding. Realising my efforts were in vein my mind turned to how I could conceal the evidence, to prevent a ribbing at the hands of my housemates for whom taking the piss was the done thing. Now with trousers on I gingerly opened the door to make sure nobody was around and as quietly as i could (not very evidently) i carried the s
t chair down the ground floor, past the bathroom and out into the back garden banging every door frame, corner or wall as I went. Now our garden wasn't particularly big, ~3m of grotty patio and another ~5m of what was grass but was now more thistle, bramble and self-sown bush after 9 months of nothing. I carried/dragged the chair to the very far corner and unceremoniously tipped it over a low chain fence into the equally overgrown garden next door. Thinking I've got away with it, it run back up to my room, lock the door and pass out, in bed.Needless to say come the next morning (early afternoon) I'm woken by my housemates pounding on my door. Still half spinning and hugely hanging I wake up in a bedroom that stinks like a public toilet. s
t, booze, BO and vom......nice. Eventually I open the door and am confronted, by both my housemates and the state of the hallway immediately outside the room. st. Not feeling up to round 2 I turn immediately and go back to the room, however looking out to the garden they're there - looking at the now very obvious foot prints taking them to the scene of devastation that is the f
king chair. I emerge, trying to protect it and cover (some) dignity but they're already filming....Turns out they heard just about everything, apparently I wasn't as quiet as I'd thought......all on camera (no escaping them) I had to recover the s
t covered chair, now an off black green, khaki as you will, carry it back up a flight of stairs to the front door, into the back of my car and drive, undoubtedly still over the limit to Reading dump over near the station to dispose of the fking thing :/Likely a few more but think they're best left for another day!
On R&R after a long exercise in Canada I stole a large Canadian chap's 'cowboy hat' while he was st-kicking on the dance floor of a club behind the Medicine Hat Lodge.
That led to a fight that thankfully didn't involve me. One of our tank commanders, a big lad nicknamed Hoover, picked me up (literally) and carried me out of a fire exit. Mostly locals and infanteers were rounded up by the RMP and local civil police, and an 'out of bounds' ban was imposed on the club.
Later the same evening we did a similar thing (starting some aggro, not stealing a hat) in a bar called (I think) O'Reilly's. When the Canadian cops rolled up and approached us we were already leaving to head to a strip club opposite. They stopped us and asked if we'd been involved in the bar fight, so we told them "no officer - the taxi dropped us off, we saw the trouble, and we're heading elsewhere..." while giving them our very best innocent look.
I may also have got thrown out of the strip club for falling asleep with my head on the bar while a lovely blonde lady in leopard print boots and very little else did her very best to keep me awake. I blame the pint of Baileys and Malibu that I'd been pressed into drinking by a Glaswegian called Tabs, on account of how it was my 20th birthday. A few weeks later and I had plenty of time to properly sober up in the Saudi Arabian sunshine for a few months...
...I now barely drink at all. I can't remember the last time I downed more than two pints or a few glasses of wine in an evening.
t-kicking on the dance floor of a club behind the Medicine Hat Lodge.That led to a fight that thankfully didn't involve me. One of our tank commanders, a big lad nicknamed Hoover, picked me up (literally) and carried me out of a fire exit. Mostly locals and infanteers were rounded up by the RMP and local civil police, and an 'out of bounds' ban was imposed on the club.
Later the same evening we did a similar thing (starting some aggro, not stealing a hat) in a bar called (I think) O'Reilly's. When the Canadian cops rolled up and approached us we were already leaving to head to a strip club opposite. They stopped us and asked if we'd been involved in the bar fight, so we told them "no officer - the taxi dropped us off, we saw the trouble, and we're heading elsewhere..." while giving them our very best innocent look.
I may also have got thrown out of the strip club for falling asleep with my head on the bar while a lovely blonde lady in leopard print boots and very little else did her very best to keep me awake. I blame the pint of Baileys and Malibu that I'd been pressed into drinking by a Glaswegian called Tabs, on account of how it was my 20th birthday. A few weeks later and I had plenty of time to properly sober up in the Saudi Arabian sunshine for a few months...
...I now barely drink at all. I can't remember the last time I downed more than two pints or a few glasses of wine in an evening.
andysgriff said:
Everyday pissed mostly, yes I know nothing to be proud of..
Various difficulties or embarrassing situations caused by drink in many different countries/continents
Middlesbrough, fights fights fights in mid 80’s
India, late 80’s - work, on site bar closed due to fighting, stole company jeeps to find beer in local village, altercation with locals, shots fired, thats all I remember.
Libya, mids 90’s . Od’d on locally brewed flash, turned into Elvis karaoked in front of 200 Koreans and spent 3 days in bed with the worst hangove ever, ever.
Canada, drunk driving, cells
Malaysia drunk driving, drove the policeman to the nearest ATM to pay him off
Rio, strayed into wrong part of town and got shot at.
Rinse and repeat for another 20 countries
Sounds much like my adventures, 20 years living abroad, 23 years in the oil field, so many countries, so many shore leaves, so many mega sessions, so many black outs...... Various difficulties or embarrassing situations caused by drink in many different countries/continents
Middlesbrough, fights fights fights in mid 80’s
India, late 80’s - work, on site bar closed due to fighting, stole company jeeps to find beer in local village, altercation with locals, shots fired, thats all I remember.
Libya, mids 90’s . Od’d on locally brewed flash, turned into Elvis karaoked in front of 200 Koreans and spent 3 days in bed with the worst hangove ever, ever.
Canada, drunk driving, cells
Malaysia drunk driving, drove the policeman to the nearest ATM to pay him off
Rio, strayed into wrong part of town and got shot at.
Rinse and repeat for another 20 countries
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