I'm surprised no-one has B3ta bash-related ones
I attended the first b3ta bash at the Jorene Celeste, and it was a fun evening! But I had neglected to eat anything for the entire day, with the exception of a weedy Cheese sandwich at lunchtime. I knew the Celese well, and was intending on popping over to the McDonalds close by after a couple of pints.

That never happened. The b3tans there were lovely. Come closing time I was about 7 Stellas and 6 double JD&Coke up. This in itself was OK. Wandered out of the pub with a couple of lovely people and onto the Northern Line. I was on autopilot and talking lots.

It wasn't until we pulled into East Finchley I realised I had gone the wrong direction; I lived South of the Thames, not North.

So I dashed out of the train and round to the other platform, only to be stopped by a bastard guard telling me the last train South had gone for the night. Bollocks.

I wandered around East Finchley a bit in search of a Kebab House, and phoned my girlfriend of the time to explain I'd be home a bit later than the 30 minutes I'd promised. After establishing that East Finchley was the most dead place in London, I set about finding a Bus Stop to get back to the centre of London intent on getting a Night bus home.

At this point, there is an intermission, during which time I assume I got on a bus and threw up. I have vague recollection of a puddle sloshing around by my feet, though I must have missed my jeans thankfully.

The next concrete memory I have is waking up with my face leaning against the metal bars surrounding roadworks. I'm sitting on an office chair with one of its wheels missing. And there are buses hurtling by about 2 feet behind me.

I fall off the chair, and roll over to see a large jutting thingy going off into the sky. "Aha, Trafalgar Square", I thought, and stumbled across to where my bus left from, only stopping to have a piss over a balcony on the way.

On the bus, I end up near the back at the top, with various lovely teenagers from Lewisham and Catford, who are smoking gear. I decide not to take part, but txt my girlfriend to let her know where I now was. One of the guys said he liked my phone, and wanted to know if I wanted to swap it with his very crappy broken one.

Strangely enough, I didn't. But I did fall asleep, and when I woke up, one of the nice gentlemen had his hand in my pocket trying to relieve me of my wallet. I'm still pissed as arseholes, so I can think of nothing more to do than to smile and say "Hello!". He goes, "Ah", and makes a break from the bus.

I eventually made it home at 5.30am, much to the relief of my Girlfriend. I crawl into bed, rudely awakened by the alarm clock reminding me I was off out on an all-day Stag do.

Needless to say, around this time I discovered they had indeed relinquished me of my phone, but had been stupid enough not to notice I was carrying a PDA and a Digital Camera as well with me.

I don't think I've ever thrown up so much in a 24 hour period. Turning up to a Stag Do with a hangover is not recommended!
Last one from me I think. Or people will think I'm a pisshead
(Glis, Fri 19 Mar 2004, 15:12, Reply)