Drink and death
The night our very own Princess of Hearts (TM) died is doubly memorable for me, as the night I saw my parents really, truly trollied.

They're not big drinkers but have a couple of really old friends who have been leading them astray for the best part of 45 years. This sunny Saturday they had been out to the races, drinking all day as you do. Usually when they came home a bit tipsy it would be dinner then bed, but on this particular day they came back around 6pm and started on the champers.

Come nine, they decided to stagger down the lane to a nearby hotel/pub/dive which had the world's lamest outdoor beer festival. I was persuaded into accompanying them, out of sheer curiosity and entertainment at how royally pissed they all were. As we arrived they strode straight out onto the wood shavings- and -hay bale "dance floor" and started getting down to that terrible country "tune" the bunch of twunts from Emmerdale had recently released - I seem to remember they called themselves The Woolpackers. The four of them were executing an enthusiastic but tragically mistimed line dance, oblivious to the sniggers/horrified looks of the other patrons, until one of the friends lost all co-ordination after a particularly high leg-kick and fell over sideways. Not to be deterred, the hoe-down continued. Eventually my dad fell headlong into a rosebush, as I pretended I wasn't with any of them. A random punter even came up to me to enquire increduously whether they were my parents. I replied in the negative.

As I attempted to usher the completely ratted band home, dad heard there was an even better* "do" inside in one of the draughty function rooms and decided we should all go and crash the party. They ran into someone's wedding reception and continued the hoe down, until mum decided that it was actually some sort of party for the staff of the local Tescos (I've no idea where she got this from) and left yelling "I can't, I have to shop there!", there being no other supermarket of note in our one-horse town.

Eventually by promising that I was going to drive them to the Bamboo Club in Stockport, a mere two and a half hour round trip, I managed to herd them back up the lane and into our living room, where they pushed all the furniture against the walls and made me DJ classic 70's rock for them into the early hours.

Got up the next morning, me fresh as a daisy and them all chronically hungover, to find out poor old Di had croaked around the same time we cracked out the Led Zepplin IV vinyl....

*or completely crap
(TheFlyingOnion. looking forward to, Thu 24 Feb 2011, 21:53, 6 replies)

eh?
(shengus, Fri 25 Feb 2011, 0:47, closed)

Ha Ha!
You hang out with/DJ for/chaperone/herd your mum/dad/their friends.
(ElectricSexPants would like to be the Sultan of something, Fri 25 Feb 2011, 14:08, closed)

are you implying there's something wrong with that?
(TheFlyingOnion. looking forward to, Fri 25 Feb 2011, 16:39, closed)

This made me laugh a lot
click
( Dervel OTBC, Fri 25 Feb 2011, 14:41, closed)

Oh lordy. The Bamboo Club. I'd forgotten that place existed :/

( Wicca'd Witch needs ideas for a new sig on..., Fri 25 Feb 2011, 18:34, closed)

been there a looong time. The rentals frequented it in about 1970....
(TheFlyingOnion. looking forward to, Fri 25 Feb 2011, 22:44, closed)