The disadvantage of not drinking

squired

A night of absolute carnage tonight. Had to get my bro to bed - hammered - unable to speak. Then had to help my cousin as he was trying to be sick in the toilet - but partially missing. Cleared up after him. I've now just finished cleaning a pile of sick off the wooden floor from a mate who is sleeping on the sofa. Thank god he missed the sofa and my expensive rug.

Why do I do it? If I was drunk like the rest of them I wouldn't care! Instead I'm still up at 4am making sure everyone is still alive!

Anyone else have a similarly crazy Sunday night out?

Anonymous

Crazy Sunday night at work. Just got in for a brew... Then back out again.

tlw1

yep. One of the guys I went to the pub with last night p1ss3d in his bed.

I didn't mind though, he is four & its only the second time he has ever done it!

teagar

Why help them? They got into the mess, they can live with the consequences. The second people start chucking or can't walk I leave them to it. Just because I don't drink doesn't mean it's my responsibility.

pepelepew

I have no patience for drunks. Why can't people accept responsibility for themselves. The number of people who get so p!ssed they can't walk/get themselves home is unreal. Visit any A&E dept to see how much of a pain they are.

You should have made your 'mates' clean up their own cr@p in the morning.

Rant over. I need a beer!

squired

Normally when people get drunk I just leave them to it as it is up to them. Having said that, it was clean up the sick last night or leave it and risk long term stains being left. Almost 4pm and my brother is still in bed.

Smokin Joe

You should have sh1t in your brother's bed, dumped him into it and let him think it was his. Then put some salad cream into a condom, smeared brown sauce on the outside and slipped it in your cousin's pocket.

That would have made them think about their drinking habits.

mmitchell88

It's the 21st century, Squired - why on earth do you think they invented mobile phones with cameras on them?? Your brother deserves global publicity. Deliver it via bikeradar.com's

dennisn

Smokin Joe wrote:

You should have sh1t in your brother's bed, dumped him into it and let him think it was his. Then put some salad cream into a condom, smeared brown sauce on the outside and slipped it in your cousin's pocket.

That would have made them think about their drinking habits.

GREAT IDEA.

DomPro

I got so drunk I forgot my own name. Good times.

squired

Ha, plenty of those sorts of photos/videos have been posted on the net over the years of drunken friends, including a brilliant one from when my brother went to bed and threw up all over himself (and of course the bed), then slept in it. Unfortunately he has since deleted it.

STEFANOS4784

I love getting drunk......

takethehighroad

The best one is the Mars Bar down the pants. Different colours of melty goeey brownness

Just about to go out now, ah the life of the student after a day out ion Blackpool. Good times.

SteppenHerring

I have to disagree with the topic title. It's not a disadvantage of not drinking, it's a disadvantage of knowing/being related to such people. I like a drink or two (or ten) but I never get into that state. Maybe it's something you do once when you're 17, but as an adult ...

passout

Not drinking is un-natural & throwing up horribly is a rite de passage. Start with snakebit & black and try to ween yourself onto spirits by the end of the month, that's my advice.

disgruntledgoat

"The disadvantage of not drinking" implies that there are advantages to such an unhealthy pursuit.

I'm always in awe of these constant tales of fights, hurling, the law and other such outrages as I just tend to babble rubbish then fall asleep.

nasahapley

passout wrote:

Not drinking is un-natural & throwing up horribly is a rite de passage. Start with snakebit & black and try to ween yourself onto spirits by the end of the month, that's my advice.

I wish I'd taken that advice - my first boozing experiences were with the appropriately named 'sick mix' - i.e. two fingers of every spirit in my mate's dad's drinks cabinet mixed together in a coke bottle. Somehow that didn't put me off for life; but it did spur me into getting a weekend job so I could afford something decent - like White Lightning or 20/20. Happy days, but after the bank holiday weekend just gone I'm not drinking again, ever.

alex16zx

disgruntledgoat wrote:

"The disadvantage of not drinking" implies that there are advantages to such an unhealthy pursuit.

I'm always in awe of these constant tales of fights, hurling, the law and other such outrages as I just tend to babble rubbish then fall asleep.

The drunks you know can't be that bad if they are able to take part in a bit of GAA on a night out!

Anonymous

teagar wrote:

Why help them? They got into the mess, they can live with the consequences. The second people start chucking or can't walk I leave them to it. Just because I don't drink doesn't mean it's my responsibility.

I'm surprised at you lack of liberalism on this topic Teagar.

Le Commentateur

It’s half past seven... A good time. A decent time. You and your best mate push open the hostelry door and are met by a warm, welcoming tide of sounds and sensations. Laughter and convivial chat fill the air and a fire crackles in the corner, imparting a golden glow across the walls.

Your taste buds kick in as you stroll over to the bar – a length of pristine oak displaying a bewitching variety of brews. There’s a new guest ale – must give it a try! You can see the Top Shelf glinting up above, with a heavyweight selection of single malts and quality vodkas on offer to those sad souls of weakened resolve. Pathetic, who needs it? As you peruse the pumps you sample the enticing bar snacks thoughtfully laid out to whet the appetite. Delicious!

As the first mouthful of cool, hoppy beer slides down your throat you turn to your mate and smile. This is what it’s all about: Friday night. On the town. A few quality beers and some good-natured banter. A release from the worries of the world. Later, maybe a curry and a DVD back at home, sound sleep and up for the joys of the weekend. Maybe a ride? Maybe back here again to watch the Vuelta? Whatever. For now you can sink back and let the pub take the strain......................

Le Commentateur

......................So you’re standing at the bar, 14 pints in. Swaying. You need a slash. There’s already a nasty stain on your crotch from your last attempt. When you look around, things move too quickly, or at least more quickly than you. Bits of crisp hang off your face, your eyes are bloodshot and your hair is like matted grease. Your breath stinks of yeasty swill, there is a pleasant bubbling in your bum, your hands are greasy from pork scratchings and shoes sticky from god knows what.

You are gorgeous! You can do anything! You are SuperDrunk!

That beautiful woman over there keeps giving you the eye – you know what she’s after. You smile at her seductively. She looks away quickly, coyly. Women, eh? What a tease!

Reflected in the mirrored wall behind the bar, your mate doesn’t look too good. In fact, sh!t, he looks AWFUL. Wait a minute, that’s you … oh, there’s your mate. Jesus. The state of him. Some people don’t know when they’ve had enough. Talking of which... what? Oh, it’s closing time – get them in. Top Shelf time. ‘And a woman chaser with those!’ Why can’t the barman hear you? ‘A whisky chaser! Cheers.' Prat.

That woman’s leaving with her mate. What a hint. Easy to see where this is going. You head for the toilets, assume a one-armed brace above the trough and p!ss for England. Quick glance in the mirror, wipe the crisps off your face and run wet hands through your hair. Now you wash them under the tap and do the same again. Go on – the smile. That’s it: a bit crooked, mysterious, alluring, sexxxy. Your mate’s in 'the office' being sick – there’s no time for that. Grab him, wipe his mouth on your jacket and give him a gentle slap. ‘Come on! We’re in!’ ‘Where? What? Urghh...’ You laugh – what a mate!

Outside there’s no sign of the ladies. This is bad news, they must have misread your signal. Ah well, their loss. There will be other women. Tonight. You feel your powers reviving in the cold air.

Ahead a brick wall bars your path to freedom, well, out of the pub car park. But you are SuperDrunk and nothing gets in your way. With a few bounds you are there, and a leap takes you up, up and... not quite over the wall. Your face slams concrete. It will not give and you slump to the floor. The need to p!ss is strong again. Maybe you can hose this wall away. You take aim at a gap in the concrete, trying to widen it with your golden, hot Superpiss.

From behind you hear giggling, like a silver brook – it’s the ladies! They’re still here! Excellent! Better play hard to get and so you zip up, even though you haven’t quite finished. Your mate’s hurling again, this time over a Vauxhall Astra. It's going to be up to you then. Summoning all your super powers, you cross to meet them.

My God, she’s beautiful, even more beautiful than you remember eight pints ago, when you first exchanged glances. She was a bit of a munter then. Funny how wrong you can be, eh? Her mate’s not bad either – is a threesome on the cards? Nah, don’t be greedy.

‘Icouldn'thelpnoticingyouearlier,’ you say. You think.

‘Fark off, you alky perv,’ says Dream Girl. ‘Look – he’s pissed himself!’

You laugh along with the banter, draw yourself to your full height... and blow chunks all over her mate. You can tell she wasn’t expecting that. SuperDrunk triumphs again.


The moral of this story? If you can’t impress anyone else, at least you can fool yourself. Nice one! :twisted:

sudholz

An almost complete night out.

You missed the bit where having decided enough was enough you get on your bike and 'ride' home... :shock: