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This is a question House Parties

‘If rocking the house is a crime…then let me be guilty’. Not my words, Carol, the words of proto ravecore pioneers Genaside II. We all love a party – or do we?

There always used to be a girl crying on the stairs, who’d drunk too much vodka. Or someone would crap in the bath. What’s the most revolting/hilarious thing you’ve seen at a party? The worst house-trashing you’ve seen?

- This Weeks question from Richard Mcbeef IB

(, Fri 9 Oct 2015, 9:36)
Pages: Popular, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

up in scotland one new years eve
I stabbed a bunch of family and friends, then this copper bird shows up, so I did what came naturally, I wrestled with her. Standard.
(, Tue 20 Oct 2015, 19:11, 11 replies)
My mate has only been a copper for a couple of years
And whilst on duty for her first Hogmanay in the job, she ended up wrestling a guy with a knife to the ground - just as the New Year bells rang out - after he'd stabbed an assortment of friends and family at a house party.

She's on duty again this year and naturally has some trepidation about the whole event.
(, Tue 20 Oct 2015, 11:59, 14 replies)
Drifting norms
I used to spend most of my time at my girlfriend's place, which was pretty much a party house. Nearly everybody was musical in one way or another, from the inevitable DJs to an incredible singer, and there were always MASSIVE DRUGS on offer.

There were also children in the house - four and five years old. We realised that it was probably time to address our standards when we noticed that encouraging the kids to fetch beer from the fridge for us had drifted up to having them carry the mirror with the lines on it from person to person...
(, Mon 19 Oct 2015, 17:18, 13 replies)
New Year's Eve 1987.
A three-storey terrace in Reading. Booze, crisps, music - not a bad party. So far, so ordinary.

After a few pints, nature calls. What I know is the only inside loo (on 2nd floor) is marked "Ladies". Where do us menz go for a slash, then?

I follow the men's toilet signs to a small open window at the very top of the stairs. This leads out onto tiny area of flat roof between the pitched roof of this house and the next. The men's toilet is the gutter that takes the rainwater away from this natural valley. Four feet to the left is an unguarded 25ft drop.

Looking back, it was an absolute miracle that no-one celebrated the new year by drunkenly pitching themselves off the roof.
(, Mon 19 Oct 2015, 16:21, 2 replies)


(, Mon 19 Oct 2015, 13:37, 1 reply)
I can't be bothered to type the whole thing out but..
good old Yellow Pages.
(, Mon 19 Oct 2015, 11:40, 2 replies)


(, Mon 19 Oct 2015, 10:39, 3 replies)
I had a party in my shitty basement flat in mornington crescent, mainly the brazilian and polish web designers that worked for us
It was a small party, about 8 of us with four crashing for the night. Of those four, one of them managed to piss all over my bedside table without taking the five steps it would have taken to go to the bathroom, the dirty fucker, and then not owning up to it.
(, Mon 19 Oct 2015, 7:20, Reply)
My friend Evie is great fun, v popular and the life and soul of many a party
She is also hopelessly scatty and, at the time of this incident, had a terrible track record of dating losers. So many losers.

This particular evening, she went to a friend's housewarming in islington. It was the kind of house party you go to in your early 20's clutching a 6 pack and leave it in the kitchen. After an hour or so, the hostess came up to her, clearly pissed off.

"Evie, that bloke you brought with you is really annoying everyone. He's nailing all the booze!"

"Oh, I'm really sor-" Evie began. Then, "Hang on, I didn't bring any bloke with me!!!"

Turned out a tramp had chanced his arm and followed her in; she had been blissfully oblivious. The people at the party just assumed he was her latest. The tramp, let loose in the kitchen, couldn't believe his luck and maximised it by downing as much as he could before he got rumbled. Apparently a tramp can get through quite a few cans of beer in an hour.
(, Sun 18 Oct 2015, 16:09, 7 replies)
Fit for purpose.

I used to share a house with a couple of young ladies.
Nothing suss. Just me out in the annex off the laundry rooting through a bevvy of [semi]attractive young ladies after a breakup and a couple of young lasses enjoying life.

One of these ladies was Marie. Marie had fucked kidneys - can't remember what exactly what was the diagnosis but she'd had a transplant when she was in her teens and since then it had failed, so she had dialysis once a week.
This was the 90's so Marie had rather wisely booked her dialysis for Sunday morning to coincide with her come-down. Did I mention that Marie FUCKING LOVED her MASSIVE DRUGS. Pills, whizz, pot.. whatever as long as it got her off her rocks. On Saturday night.
Then I would drive her to dialysis on Sun morning early - we'd both snooze off the comedown/hangover after a few bucket bongs for the road and then come home for brekky and a few more bongs.

As you can imagine things were often a little "haywire" at the casa de la fun. The other girl I shared with was a little more straight laced than Marie and myself. Sharon ran her own carpet cleaning business. And she doted on her cat, Mog. Mog was the fattest, thickest, greediest cat I've ever had the pleasure of coming across. This animal would labor up onto the bench, lick the butter and then shove his face into it at the last minute just before being caught and bodily chucked outside. For some reason whenever Mog got an abscess from fighting (getting the shit kicked out of him by other cats) Sharon would feed him paracetamol. Against all advice. At first he hated it, and then eventually he came to love crunching down a couple of tablets. To a slightly worrying extent.

Back to the story -
We had a party. It wasn't really a house-warming nor a birthday, so we just had an "Excuse Party". A party with any old excuse. As a party it went swimmingly. Until Marie found Mog. Looking the worst for wear. Mog was behaving very erratically - his actions wavered between mewling loudly and with wide eyes at nothing whatsoever and then promptly flopping down where he stood to have an insta-nap. We were a tad non-plussed until Marie discovered a half chewed ecstasy tablet near her set of drawers in her room. Clearly paracetamol was just his gateway drug & Mog had since moved onto the harder stuff.

Suffice to say - Mog had an interesting couple of days. Sharon queried his behavior and Marie and I played dumb. Marie polished off the last half of the tab before I took her up to dialysis and all in all it was apparently another good party at our place.
Mog eventually died of liver failure many months later. The reason cited by the vet was that paracetamol is not meant for ingestion by animals and damages their livers.
(, Sat 17 Oct 2015, 23:01, 7 replies)
at a house party once
I was sick in the dogs bowl, and the dog ate it.
(, Fri 16 Oct 2015, 15:24, 5 replies)
manolith touched a dog on the bumhole

(, Fri 16 Oct 2015, 12:16, 1 reply)
Before becoming an internationally famous DJ and producer I used to hang around with a bunch of northern god botherers.

(, Thu 15 Oct 2015, 21:47, 5 replies)
Hurrah! Pearoast!
Twizel may well be the grimmest town in New Zealand - built as a workers' dormitory for dam construction projects, and unaccountably not abandoned, its inhabitants tend towards the bored and brutal. A mate of mine spent his formative years there, and befriended a character known simply as the Animal.
It came to pass that my mate was at a typically feral party one evening and found himself being pestered by an annoying and drunk middle-aged woman ("What's your star sign?" That sort of nonsense). Hoping to distract her, he summoned the Animal and quietly asked him to work his rough charms.
This the Animal did - some 5 minutes later, he was seen leading the woman into the host' bedroom. Well and good, thought my friend, giving it no further theought for another 10 minutes, when suddenly was heard a high-pitched shriek.
The guests all piled into the bedroom in a state of high glee, to behold the woman staggering from the bed in her knickers, her body dripping with runny shit and urine. What had happened was that the Animal had been standing astride her, trying to summon an erection by straining and willpower alone. In his drunken confusion he managed to lose control of his bowels instead.
Of the great man himself there was no sign, only an open window.
(, Thu 15 Oct 2015, 8:55, 5 replies)
Streams of Whiskey
After a whiskey-fueled 18 year old's party fizzled out and everyone fell asleep in piles on the floor, I was woken by by friend dragging what looked like a dead body into the 'off limits parent's bedroom'. I stood up despite the room spinning like a waltzer to find out what had happened.
On entering the room the smell hit me, there was vomit and shit all over the bed, the contents of the drawers were on the floor and the light shade was in tatters.
'What happened?' I asked him.
'I think I was a bit pissed and had an accident.' came the obvious reply.
'So who is the dead boy?'
'Oh he's not dead - he's just hammered. I thought if I dragged him in here, laid him on the bed and wiped puke on his face he would think he did it and clean it up.'
It did work. And worked on many occasions after this party too.
(, Wed 14 Oct 2015, 18:35, 3 replies)


(, Wed 14 Oct 2015, 18:16, 2 replies)
The best parties...
...are where hoochie mamas, show their nanas.
(, Wed 14 Oct 2015, 17:41, 5 replies)
lol

(, Wed 14 Oct 2015, 14:22, 3 replies)
"Hot dog
Jumping frog, I'm a cookie"

At least I snogged the paperboy.
(, Wed 14 Oct 2015, 11:46, 5 replies)
Pearoast from eleven years ago
...maybe more. I'd just got to university, and along with my wonderful new housemates (stoner and her boyfriend, pilled up nutter, pretty girl who hid in her room the entire time) decided to throw a house party. What better way to get to know each other, eh?

This involved... Well, bugger all people, really. Nobody turned up apart from one of my housemate's brothers, and a few of his mates from home. Turned out nobody had bothered inviting anyone, but anyway. I went to the pub for the evening instead, but was told about this the next day. The guy in question, who shall now be named Chris, as that may have been his name, killed off sixteen cans of Stella and a few pints down the local within three hours, and promptly fell asleep. Fast forward to that night. After Chris makes an attempt to get into one of my female housemate's beds, along with her and her boyfriend...

My housemate's brother wakes up, to see Chris squatting over a chair and a turd emerging. Not quite believing his eyes, he woke up my housemate.

"Er. Is Chris taking a shit on the chair?"

My housemate looked over.

"Chris, are you taking a shit on the chair?"

"Yes."

"...What the fuck are you doing! Stop it, you dirty bastard."

"At least let me finish."

By that point, he had indeed finished. Fast forward to... that night, again. A bit later on. My housemate's brother again wakes up, to find Chris squatting. Over a bin, this time. The kitchen bin, which he had apparently fetched from downstairs for the sole purpose of shitting in. A trip which involves walking past the bathroom. Again, the brother wakes my housemate up, and they both watch mutely as Chris unleashes the full watery wrath of his innards into the bin.

A few days later, I carry one of our many bin bags around to the front of the house for collection. What's that I spy through the huge rip in the side of one of the bags I'm carrying? Shit coated pot noodle pots? Oh, yes indeed. The binmen come, and go, and the bag remains. I depart for uni, and as I leave a nurse from the veterinary surgery next door walks over and starts moving our rubbish to their skip. Did I warn her about the shit filled bag with a big split in the side, just waiting to rip open?

Did I fuck.

I turned my headphones up, but the music wasn't quite loud enough to mask the sound of plastic noodle containers clattering to the ground, and the scream of terror.

I moved out of that house a week or two later.
(, Wed 14 Oct 2015, 11:02, 2 replies)
About eight years ago I was on the way to a house party after a bit of prelash
I stopped in Sainsbury's to pick up some booze to take. On the end of the beer aisle they had a box of 12 bottles of Beck's on offer for £3.50, which seemed like a bargain, so I hitched up my wedding dress (it was a fancy dress party), picked up two boxes and made my way to the self-service checkout. After the man had come over and verified that I was indeed over eighteen, I took the beer and went on my way.

About five minutes from the party (after a drunk girl in Camden had stepped on my dress's train and torn it) we decided to crack open the beer and drink one as we arrived. My housemate took a swig and turned to me. "Did you check this beer?" he said, holding up his bottle. There, in tiny writing on the otherwise identical Beck's bottles, were the words "Alcohol Free".

Thankfully we were still close enough to an offie to grab some real beer and we stashed the fake stuff under someone's bed, only to bring it back out and pass it around later, around 3am when all the shops had closed and people wanted more beer but were too wasted to notice.
(, Wed 14 Oct 2015, 10:20, 6 replies)


(, Tue 13 Oct 2015, 17:20, Reply)
That okCupid profile picture

(, Tue 13 Oct 2015, 17:08, Reply)
that picture of bea arthur with a strap on

(, Tue 13 Oct 2015, 17:06, Reply)
Those dogs in tights!

(, Tue 13 Oct 2015, 16:38, Reply)
Damned mods, why'd you have to go messing with my posts?

(, Tue 13 Oct 2015, 15:54, 1 reply)
I went to a house party wearing a spiked collar once
Some bender got himself off by impaling an apple on one of the spikes and eating it, the filthy pervert.
(, Tue 13 Oct 2015, 14:00, Reply)
December 31st 1999
Millennium New Years Party. Highlights of the evening include.

My friend James comes dressed as Geri Halliwell in the Union Jack dress. over the course of the night we convince him to shave off all his body hair.

Peteloaf infrequent b3ta poster starts vomiting in the bath. Despite repeatedly being asked to vomit in the toilet he continues to vomit in the bath because people keep coming in the bathroom and pissing on his head.

James vomits in a carrier bag and attempts to throw it over the garage. As he is swinging the bag round and round it hits the back of his leg, explodes and sends his vomit cascading up his Union Jack dress. He continues drinking and ignores this.

Peteloaf has just stopped vomiting in the bath. Pete asks for water and a kind soul brings him half a pint of Aldi White Rum which Pete promptly downs. Pete begins vomiting in the bath again. Alcohol poisoning is funny.

Treve is seeing how many cigarettes he can fit in his mouth. Treve decides to see what happens if he lights and attempts to smoke them all. Answer - He vomits.

Keyword : Vomit
(, Tue 13 Oct 2015, 11:27, 4 replies)
I went to this great house party once.
There were loads of people, loud brash music, and some weird bearded wanker who was sticking people in a plexiglass box and pouring coloured gloop onto their heads.

It only lasted about an hour though, because some douchebag cracked their head open in the car park and died.
(, Mon 12 Oct 2015, 15:14, 7 replies)

This question is now closed.

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