In the clubs I've mostly been in
journeys to the bogs are generally concerned with trying desperately - through your drink-addled mind - just to avoid sliding on the pish-covered floors and wind up flat on your arse in the middle of it all.

There's just no spare capacity in that-pissed a mind to contemplate any kind of conversation beyond an "alright mate" for fear of anyone realising those are about the only words you can actually string together.

Plus, why is it the very moment that you turn away from the trough that you realise just how drunk you really are as you struggle to remember where the way out is and try to work out how to get there. Then there's the journey back to your mates to tackle...
(dxg, Thu 9 Apr 2009, 18:44, Reply)