Bollocks, you should all be proud!
We invented what we like to call the Scaffy Walk! Used to do it every week without fail.

You start out with a group friends in the pub about early lunchtime, have a few lagers till the effect hits you, then you trawl the high street, following the golden rule - you must only buy out of charity shops - whilst under the influence.
Piss-poor clothes are the fucking king-biscuit moneyshot, but tacky 1980s action films on video cassette, or trashy paperbacks are good too.
By the time the shops close at 5pm, you should be starting to sober up as your inhibitions return - so head back to the pub.
Once there, compare items bought by each member of the group, and reflect on the wisdom of the purchase now that you're in control of your senses.
Any tasteless item of clothing MUST be worn on the night out, with the option of accompanying it with other rubbish gained during the day.

A straw hat, Top Gun shades, chequed blue trousers with a burst zip, and shirt that would make Timmy Mallet cry - oh yes, you'll look the part, as will you all when your friends hit the town in style - oh, and take a camera.
We once found those polystyrene aeroplanes in Barnados you used to get as kids and threw them round the pub all night dressed like refugees from a Care in the Community scheme, while I regailed the crowds by reading aloud from the 99p pocket companion "Life and Times of Saddam Hussein", focussing in particular on the passsage where the ousted despot was reputed to have molested his horse as a child.

Happy days!
Can't wait till this weekend . . . .
(Barry Subchimp, Thu 9 Jun 2005, 13:40, Reply)