Probably
the last ones -

When I was at university, the rag committee had a drinking contest with the rugby club to raise money for, amazingly, rag. Two teams of ten, one keg of beer per team, first to finish wins free drinks for the rest of the night.

I was on the rag team (which won, possibly because at least two of the members were actual, non-metaphorical alcoholics), and quite early on we gained a crucial advantage over the rugby club when someone realised that after the first two pints or so, your stomach was completely full and there was simply nowhere for the fresh booze to go, so from there on in you could puke each pint up almost immediately. So we did. In fact, we half-filled a proper big plastic rubbish bin with spew. In, as I remember, under fifteen minutes.

The annoying side effects were that we were all stone cold sober again within half an hour, and none of us except the alkies could face even a half of shandy.

At the same venue a year or two later, some bright spark on the bar committee decided to have a Buckfast promotion, 50p a glass - a proper tumbler. Really fucking bad plan. The toilets were awash with vomit and piss by the end of the night, with both cubicles and the floor in front of the urinals occupied by unconsious blokes covered in crimson sick.

But the most spectacular casualty was a woman who was standing at the bar waiting to get served when she suddenly lost control of her right leg and lurched sideways at immense speed. She of course tried to keep her elbows and arms on the bar, so she slid along it, knocking drinks off as people leap out of her way. Her mate caught her at the end of the bar, at which point she started to throw up. And kept doing it as she was hauled off to the ladies', leaving an impressively broad trail of puke the colour of congealed blood across a good twelve feet of carpet.
(Wong Fei-Hung - now with added flickr.com (see profile), Wed 25 Aug 2004, 1:58, Reply)