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This is a question Morning After Souvenirs

I once woke up in a tent after a particularly drunken holiday pub crawl, clutching a tap. There's a drowned, sunken village somewhere in Wales because of my act of petty theft, but I cannot remember. Tell us what - or who - you've brought back from nights out.

(Suggested by Bicycle Repairman)

(, Thu 26 Apr 2012, 13:44)
Pages: Popular, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

I haven't been about this week because I hate you all, but before this question goes, have this:
It was to be my first vomitting hangover. I was 23, and could hear a big dog barking, constantly, almost - almost - on the second, like it was time-keeping.

I stared up at the ceiling, only able to conclude that it wasn't mine. I turned to my side to see that we were sleeping on a mattress on the floor, surrounded by dirty laundry, lager cans, overflowing ashtrays, and empty spirit bottles.

Somewhere in the distance, a car alarm was screeching in and out and in and out and in and out and in and out.

A mass of hair next to me prevented further identification without the fear of waking the owner.

The car alarm was screeching in and out and in and out, almost perfectly off-beat to the dog barking and barking and barking and barking, but not quite.

A van pulled up nearby, and as the doors were opened, immediately people started throwing heavy items into it with resounding clangs.

Suddenly, the mass of hair next to me woke up.

Turning to me with a grin, it said happily

"Welcome to Peckham!"
(, Thu 3 May 2012, 12:34, 4 replies)
So I was walking home from the pub the other night...
behaving like a complete booze hound when I stumbled across a lovely e-scarpe-ment - the view was very sobering.

I could see something moving down at the bottom so went to investigate. At first I thought it was a loud rory lyon or even a mock turtle but upon closer inspection it turned out to be the snuffling of a very skinny & amorous badger - he looked like a little French dog. I got scared for a moment & thought "Dammit Janet!" but then I decided there and then that I was the man with the plan and got the fuck outta there - as everyone knows amorous badgers are protected by wicca'd witches who will cast their spell-check on you if you upset their badgers.

As I wore out Mark Morrison's Prison shoes running away I heard a loud "tiktock" sound and some birdwatchers nearby told me that it was the call of the resident Loon. I told them they were a bunch of big girls blouses for being bird-watchers and that they had given me bad advice. They threatened me with throwing me in the ring of fire (or was it the ringofyre - I can't remember, I was drunk) & threw a purple bowling ball at me. It hurt me when it hit and was covered in what I think was 3 men's cum. I reckon there was dan, dan but I don't know who the other guy was. I felt Dreadful. Even so I tried to warn them about the magic cat that might attack their birds

"Great" I thought, "now I have to go home and have a bath-ory." It hurt so much that the next day I had to go & see my GP, Dr. Shambolic. He behaved like an uppity damn primate (I've always enjoyed a bit of ape loverage), but he told me he'd show me his "Vagabond" (it was purty) & he did give me a script for some "@./" It was good but tasted a bit of poo-flakes.(TOTAL VAG EDIT.)
I woke up the following morning in bed with the luggage of someone else.

And now here I am telling my tale on b3ta. It took me a while to login as I kept getting "Username Moderation" failures but having told my tale it's left me a bit EMpVy inside. Like I've got PMGT or something.
If anyone want's the ball - I left it with Herb Alpet's taxi driver. Shim lives at Number 5, Wrigglesworth Lane, Funkenschlag.
(, Thu 3 May 2012, 8:18, 15 replies)
There was that time I got wasted in Paris back in 1997.
I don't remember how I got home, but I must have been drink-driving; anyway, me and my white Fiat Punto did get back to my hotel with only a few small scratches and bumps.
(, Thu 3 May 2012, 4:57, Reply)
Just another day for me.
After a day of dispensing justice from my Honda Accord on well hard cunts, I came across Mr. T acting like a right knob. I pulled the Honda over and told him “I pity the fool” and then using my well honed Ninja skills learned while on a 6 day tour of Japan, kicked him down and then back up several flights of stairs, which taught him a lesson let me tell you.

Of course a flock of super models had gathered to watch me dealing with T. When I was spent from dealing the kicking and T had learned his lesson well, I said to the best 10 looking super models “oi bitches, get in me Honda, but don’t be leaving no snail trails on me vinyl seats” cause I knew they was dripping from their clunges from seeing a well hard man like me dealing out the justice and then drove them back to my place.

As soon as I got home, I took MASSIVE drugs, heroin, cocaine, ecstasy, aspirin the lot and had mad sex about 20 times with each super model, which made them cum about 20 times each, cause apart from being right hard, I am also a brilliant sexer with a massive schlong which looks like a babies arm holding an apple. After I was sick of the super models I told them, “Oi bitches, get out of me house” which they did cause I am well hard and have a Honda.

I took some more massive drugs and then went out to the hardest night club in my town, bashed the bouncers, cracked the hardest drinkers in their faces, had sex with their girl friends, drank like 1000 pints of strong larger, finished off with more horrendously massive drugs that I stole from the well hard drug dealers at the club, who did nothing because they could see in my eyes I had Ninja training and was well hard, and then went home.

When I woke up the next morning I was surprised find a kitten and my mum’s bra in my bed. I don’t know where they came from but, I don’t give a fuck cause I am well hard and this story is all true.

(, Thu 3 May 2012, 3:52, 2 replies)
Does embarrassment count?
I just karaoke'd Rolling In The Deep with my (female) flatmate.
(, Wed 2 May 2012, 23:32, 2 replies)
Hasn't bin dun yet?
I would have thought someone would have admitted to going out on the lash one night about 5 years ago in Portugal, and waking up with a four year old girl next to them....
(, Wed 2 May 2012, 20:06, 1 reply)

(, Wed 2 May 2012, 19:13, 9 replies)
In one of my life's more "colourful" periods
I stole a full keg from the back of one of the student bars on campus, whilst severely inebriated. This was, to my drunken mind, the most cunning and genius thing ever carried out by anyone. "Free beer for a week!" thinks I.

I then, being too afraid to call a taxi or get on the bus for fear of being dobbed in, carried the fucking thing approximately 3 miles on my back, to my house. It weighed a frigging tonne. This took me about 4 hours or so if I remember correctly (which I probably don't, because I was pissed) and involved "staying off the roads" to avoid detection, choosing farmer's fields instead.

In my drunken mind I was Frodo, heading to Mt Doom to destroy the one ring by drinking ALL THE BEERS. I was Willard, off to terminate the Kurtz that was my sobriety. In my head, I was carrying this thing across mountaintops and through canyons and jungles, in the kind of storm that would make Thor wince. This was definitely the most epic undertaking I had ever undertaken.

In actuality, I seem to remember spending about 20 minutes trying to lift it over a fence stile because my arms were knackered. Then I sat on it for a bit and had a rest.

Nevertheless, and spurred on by the thought of free booze and the best drunken story ever, I persevered and eventually got it through my front door. I then spent the next 20 minutes of so trying to lever the cap off it with a chisel.

Eventually it yielded, and I hoisted it onto my weary shoulders once again in order to partake of it's contents. I carefully (for which, read "clumsily") stood over the sink and poured it into a waiting pint glass.

It was full of fucking water.

In one of my other posts this week I mentioned meeting my girlfriend around this time. She worked in the pub I stole the keg from. The first time she came round to my house, she saw the keg (now with a cushion on it and being used as a stool,) and asked me if I had stolen it from her bar. Rather sheepishly I admitted that I had. I told her the story.

"Yeah, we used to fill them up with water before we'd send them back to the brewery. It was to stop dickheads from stealing them."

(, Wed 2 May 2012, 16:40, 5 replies)
I wasn't sure that I was going to share this...
...as it's actually quite worrying, and one of many reasons I no longer drink, but I once woke up in my own bed clutching a screwed up piece of paper that upon inspection turned out to be a green carbon copy of a British Transport police form, with my name and address and signature all very obviously written by me, confirming I had declined medical attention at Vauxhall station. To this day I don't know what happened or even remember being at Vauxhall station.
(, Wed 2 May 2012, 16:30, 8 replies)
I woke up this morning and I saw this

(, Wed 2 May 2012, 16:26, 15 replies)
A pig
I decided not to keep it though and promptly phoned it a cab.
(, Wed 2 May 2012, 16:06, Reply)
Woke up in the school staffroom with no memory of how I got there...
It was ten to eight and my first lesson started at 8.

I got up, walked into my lesson and taught two periods of A level physics, pretty badly I should imagine.

I didn't have any souvenirs but nearly lost my job for that one. Silly twunt.
(, Wed 2 May 2012, 15:35, 7 replies)
My disaster of a housemate...
My friend John was the kind of rugby boy who would always regale us with stories of ridiculousness after a night out which would generally turn out to be a regurgitation of a story someone else told him. Every now and then though...

We decided to drink the last of our money and walk the 5 miles from campus to our house on a Thursday night, I'd just been dumped and ended up snogging an inappropriate girl-friend who still doesn't talk to me (this was in 1996 and I'd known her since I was about 5... ah well) so being more drunk made sense.

John decided he needed to thieve something. We passed a petrol station and he attempted to swipe the only thing that wasn't bolted down. A swinging sign advertising 'Camping Gaz'.

He was cheered up, I was cheered up... for all of 12 seconds - at which juncture a police car rounded the corner, drove across the road and stopped next to us.


We spent the night in the police cells, he got a caution, I got a warning and we were let out just in time to get back to the house, grab our stuff and get back to campus for labs...

Another morning, I knocked on his door to see if he wanted a cuppa, he grunted and I slowly opened the door to check if he was ok... he was sat upright on the bed. 2 pint glasses in one hand, a cocktail shaker in the other, a life ring from the side of the Trent around his neck, a bar price list under his arm and he was missing one shoe, on the leg that was soaked up to the knee (the rest of him was completely dry). The look of confusion on his face as he surveyed his winnings was priceless.
(, Wed 2 May 2012, 14:00, 1 reply)
In my student days I had a housemate who was very into martial arts....
...but unfortunately not that mentally stable, his original instructor refused to teach him any more as he felt. he had delusions of grandeur rather than the humility expected of a martial artist. He liked going out at night dressed in the full head to toe black rig, samurai swords, nunchuks, etc. I was convinced one day he'd get into some real trouble.

My fears were realised one morning when I staggered down for my hangover cure breakfast to find yet more body parts on the table.

More Ninja Foot Severed Ears!
(, Wed 2 May 2012, 13:34, 3 replies)
out on tag
i once visited some australian friends who recently moved to bristol.
we went out drinking, as you do.
we started at home, then headed to the bottom of park street, planning to visit every establishment on the way up, do a beer and a shot, see what it was like, maybe stay for seconds if there was a chance of a bit of 'shush' (clunge) then move on.
i remember about 2/3 of the way up.
i woke up sweating like a slave on a filthy floor in what i can only assume was a squat, surrounded by the passed out carcasses of total strangers. on eye level with a tank holding a very unimpressed looking green iguana. who was glaring at me.
the only clue as to what had happened was a trail of club and pub entry stamps on my arm, in various stages of sweaty smudgy glory, and a handful of credit card receipts from various drinking establishments.
thankfully i still had my phone and wallet, and a few calls and quick check of google maps reassured me i was somewhere in the depths of st paul's. as i got up to leave and find my mates, i realised that peeking from under the arm of my t-shirt was a large, and i can safely say VERY FUCKING PERMANENT marker ink graffiti tag, extending up my shoulder and onto my back. took about four hard scrubbing sessions with a scourer and some nail varnish remover to take that off.
when i finally rendesvous with ym aussie mates in a greasy spoon cafe, they had no clue as to where i'd been either. leaving on the train i saw the same tag, though it's indecipherable so i can't tell you what it says, on several bridges and railway sidings..
(, Wed 2 May 2012, 10:55, 8 replies)
OK, I'll start
My mate Arthur recently lost a family member. He got very drunk, and when he woke up, found he'd been attempting to craft a coffin for the dearly departed, by applying thin layers of wood over a pine box, using Native American designs.

yes, Mourning Arthur Sioux Veneers.

Ok, that's pretty weak. Next!
(, Wed 2 May 2012, 10:00, 6 replies)
Broken thumb.. lost Naval ID card..
Some slight knowledge of drinking half a bottle of rum, and nothing else. Apparently I tried to push a Skoda (with occupant)back up a hill.. when he stepped out of the car, I dived over a hedge and rolled down a VERY steep bank resulting in some impact..No recollection.
(, Wed 2 May 2012, 3:13, 1 reply)
salt and pepper screw thingys
When a friend of mine was small his parents were going round lots of kitchen showrooms deciding which kitchen to buy with their stacks of cash. Bored, he collected the little screw things off the top of the salt and pepper pots in all the display kitchens. Cheeky little bugger!
(, Wed 2 May 2012, 0:07, Reply)
Waking up with a where am I question in his head...
First: This isn't me, it was a friend. Honest.It sounds fine, waking up in your parents house, on the sofa in the front room.

Just not when they had moved out 4 years previously.

The 'new' owners of the house found it funny and even gave the guy a lift home.

Second: After a party I woke up with my car keys still in my pockets, but on checking the car, found a pair of women's knickers on the back seats. If only I could remember.....
(, Tue 1 May 2012, 18:13, Reply)
I woke up with teh upload coadz.
Apparently some people have been looking for them?
(, Tue 1 May 2012, 17:13, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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