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This is a question Nights Out Gone Wrong

In celebration of the woman who went out for a quiet drink with friends after work, and ended up half naked, kicking a copper in the nads and threatening to smear her own shit over hospital staff, how have your best-laid plans ended in woe?

(, Thu 24 Mar 2011, 16:02)
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More office xmas party carnage
Some years ago our boss handed every employee a small bag as they entered the xmas party venue. This turned out to contain £40 for drinks, two pills, and a wrap of coke. All very fine and splendid for the experienced Fluoronauts amongst us, but rather a surprise for a some of the less worldly employees. Carnage transpired...

By common agreement, the winner of the Biggest Wreck award went to one young lad. Not for getting ragingly trashed, not for dancing on the bar, not even for passing out in the middle of the dance-floor.

What sealed his well-deserved win transpired as he was being carried out by two colleagues. Although he was apparently entirely unconscious, he managed to lift an arm and squeeze the left tit of the girl who was carrying him by the shoulders. Who promptly dropped him, of course.
(, Thu 31 Mar 2011, 14:19, 2 replies)
I had far too many at the free bar at my work's Christmas party last year
and - apparently - had to be walked home and tucked up in bed by a couple of mates.

I woke up at about 5pm the following day with a head fuzzier than a Leo Sayer Muppet. I then tried to recount what had happened the previous evening. I felt a bit ashamed, but I couldn't work out why. Like that Tetris block you've been waiting for, that vital memory slots into place.

I realised that earlier that same, horrifically hungover day, I'd actually gone to work. Still munted from the night before. I was incapable of doing anything and just stood by my mate's desk, silently swaying. I managed about three hours before I got sent home.
(, Thu 31 Mar 2011, 13:25, Reply)
While drunk, I agreed to take a personality test
and ended up a Scientologist. That was a night out gone horribly Ron.
(, Thu 31 Mar 2011, 13:19, 1 reply)
It's What I Do
Apparently it's what he does (or did...):

(, Thu 31 Mar 2011, 12:56, 2 replies)
Does anybody remember
hearing about that bloke, Ron Green? He was one of the producers of The Goon Show. He went missing and was found, well his remains were found 3 weeks later in a pond and had been partly devoured by the resident amphibians. I remember the headline in the press clearly,

"Newts Eat Goon Ron"

Thank you, thank you, I'm here all week. Be sure to tip the waiters. Try the veal
(, Thu 31 Mar 2011, 12:08, 8 replies)
Whatever MASSIVE DRUGS you do, there's always someone older than you around, who remembers when they were much stronger and better.
(, Thu 31 Mar 2011, 11:45, 5 replies)
My best laid plans ended in woe not through massive drugs or alcohol abuse, but through weird dreams. I'd had a challenging day at work and was looking forward to nothing more than a good nights sleep. I unplugged the phone, got a hot water bottle, selected a good book and nodded off peacefully after a few pages. Unfortunately, while in blissful slumber, things took a turn for the worse. I had a dream where my best mate was sucking my cock! I awoke with a start and was a bit unsettled, but I was so tired I drifted off again - and sure enough the dream came back! My best mate, giving me a sloppy headjob! Needless to say I woke up again, alarmed and in a terrible dilemma. I mean, how on earth do I tell him he's gay?
(, Thu 31 Mar 2011, 10:34, 4 replies)
Salmon. Nottingham.
Once, I went back to an acquaintances' house after running into him on a night out. He's a bit unhinged. 'I caught a fish the other day. It's in the sink. Can you gut it for me' says he and hands me a pocket knife encrusted in god knows what. So I went to the bathroom and there's a six pound salmon sat in the sink, and it's the most diseased, disgusting specimen I have ever seen and anyway it smells like fanny cheese. 'Fuck off, I'm not cutting that thing' 'Ach, you're maybe right. It's maybe been sitting a bit long. Chuck it out the window.' Not being one to pass on an opportunity (it's not every day you get to throw a fish from a first floor window) I heaved it. A wee while later we were sitting smoking, calmly enough, when out of the blue comes 'YOU CHUCKED MA FUCKIN FISH OUT THE WINDOW YA BASTARD!' as he lunged at me with a meat cleaver, missed, and fell down between the couch and wall bringing a stack of speakers down on top of himself.I escaped down the stairs and out into the street and there's the fish lying broken on the tarmac. 'Just goes to show you can't trust any cunt' I muttered. I think the salmon understood.

The most perplexing, troubling thing that happened to me on a night out, though, something that confuses me to this day, is when I woke up outside a train station in Nottingham at one in the morning. The last thing I remembered was being skint and miserable in my native Scotland, nearly 300 miles away, at pub chucking out time. How did I get 300 miles in three hours with no money. It's not possible. It doesn't make any sense.
(, Wed 30 Mar 2011, 23:46, 22 replies)
Mum (nun) has not allowed me to even go out at night. My dad told her to piss off. She did. Cried. Gone for six months. Cried. I wondered why. Cried. She did tern up but was so trollied she puked in front of me. Gannet had been out to dinner with some dodo.

Never will forgive her or what she did. Whale of a time, my asp.
(, Wed 30 Mar 2011, 22:23, 15 replies)
After a night out
I was standing in the bus station waiting for my night bus. However, where it is meant to stop, there was one of the other night buses in its place.

I stood there kicking my shoes watching for my bus to pull out of the depot when I glance up and notice a really smoking-hot girl sitting on the other bus. Our eyes met and she smiled. I smiled back. 'Corr', thought I. I looked up for my bus and then looked back. She was still looking and smiling, but now her eyes kept glancing down to my groin. She kept smiling looking up at me and looking down at my groin. A complete stranger taking great interest in my groin was making my nether-regions warm. She was still smiling and paying great attention and looking down, and I was getting quite a lob on at the thought of it. Then she seemed to gasp and grinned. Had she seen my rather proud bulge or something?

But then I felt a draft. I always go commando when I wear my best slacks, it's just comfier ok? I felt a draft and then I tensed. I've been standing here with my flies undone and that's what she's found amusing. Arse! I felt shame, shock, anger and yet found it rather amusing.

I reached down to check. Yes my flies were undone. For fuck's sake.

But it was worse than that.

My tumescence had wormed its way out of the opening of my trousers and Little Sandettie was standing to attention for all to see. I put it away rather hastily, zipped up and ran away to catch my bus further down the route.

Actually, this never happened. I ripped it off from a copy of FHM from about 10 years ago. I think tit for tat is the correct term.
(, Wed 30 Mar 2011, 21:42, 8 replies)
Saturday night: OK. Sunday: gone.
Around age 16, I was knocking about regularly with a mate i'd known for a while. His parents were the easy going type so we'd often hang around the local area getting into the usual mischief and roll back to his for the night. This happened often enough that I knew his family well and it wasn't unusual for them to find a hungover greencloud joining them for breakfast.

They had planned a barbeque party for the sitsers 16th and naturally I was more than welcome. I prepared by pinching a handful of temazepam from my grandma's bottle.

I don't recall much detail of the night but only really because not much happened. I got to play tonsil hockey with the birthday girl for a while but the two pills i'd taken early weren't having much effect beyond the booze also consumed. I rummaged in my pockets and necked another 4 or 5.

I lasted until the end of the party at about 2am and took my usual roost on the sofa. Rather than waking early-ish and making my way home to my own bed like normal, I sat up, saw the younger siblings and promptly went back to sleep. Upright in the corner of the sofa. This set a pattern that continued until around tea time, brief glimpses of consciousness that afforded me sights of a family sunday lunch, various extended family bringing presents etc.

It seemed that each time I opened my eyes the room had different occupants and the clock had leapt forward.

I should probably add that I have always snored quite badly, and akin to a freight train after drinking.

Sorry I slept through your actual birthday Victoria, I hope you learned to kiss better in your later teens.
(, Wed 30 Mar 2011, 20:48, Reply)
Nights out QOTW gone wrong
When at work, I tend to type in Notebook and then copy & pasre to here so that I don't have this open all the time.

It's a system that has served me well. Until today, when I must have somehow caught the right click button on the mouse when sending an email and sent something I wrote as a reply to a post to a dozen colleagues.


God, I HATE it when people tamper with art...
Art that was created for the good of the world out of nothing but love and then some cunt comes along and destroys its integrity...

Surprisingly I am still employed.
(, Wed 30 Mar 2011, 20:17, 7 replies)
My first and only taste of MDMA
For the inexperienced MDMA or Mandy is the crystal version of E, supposedly much stronger but depends on who/where you get it from.

At a friends house party a few beers down and throwing some shapes on the dance floor (living room floor), I find one friend has a spare bomb of Mandy (crushed and in a rizla or something similar) that he is selling. Having had pills a few times before I thought, "Fuck it!" payed him and swallowed the bomb.

15 to 20 minutes later sitting in a bedroom enjoying a chat I start to feel it. "Brilliant," I think, and head back to do some more dancing, on the way from this I pass the bathroom and go for a slash, roughly an hour later i'm still by the toilet dry heaving but had not thrown up at all. Two friends carry my back to the bedroom where I sat against the wall, where I was mostly ignored for the rest of the evening as I was just talking away and having no idea to who or about what.

Waste of an apparently great party, and definatly not worth the jaw ache the next day.
(, Wed 30 Mar 2011, 18:06, 11 replies)
too many pills to count as a thrill
After a particularly heavy night "J" and "A" (brothers) are back in their flat having a smoke and a no concept of what's happening jaw gnarling natter. J leaves the room to make them both a cup of tea. He returns to find "A" eating fag butts and roaches from the ash tray.

J: Stop that you're eating fag butts!
A: What?
J: You've been eating from the ash tray you mong. How many have you eaten?
A: Don't know. How long have you been gone?

Got to love the E logic.
(, Wed 30 Mar 2011, 17:20, Reply)
Many years ago I went on a pub crawl with my mates......
....not so bad but there were 27 pubs in the town at that time and the journey was only two miles in total. We set the rules as 1)at least one alcoholic beverage to be purchased and drunk in each pub and 2) no-one gets left behind. If they flake, call them a cab.

I woke up in an alleyway, 11 miles from home. Clothes - check. Money - check. Signs of unwanted sexual activity - none.

After getting directions to the local train station, I was back home by 10.30 that morning. Spoke to every one of our group as to what happened and they all said the same thing. "Thought you'd flaked and got a cab home."

I still don't know what happened or how I got there.
(, Wed 30 Mar 2011, 16:45, Reply)
Drunken storm-out confusion
One guy who used to drink in our locale, a baldy called Mark, decided that after all of us had a piss-up he'd wonder over to me old flat and continue in the drinkapades there, along with a few others.
Now me old flat was a living room/kitchen combo with a front door on it, and a small bathroom and bedroom connecting on the opposite side. Don't live there anymore, twas small and dingy to say the least.
Anyhows Mark's got pissed to the point of twatdom and decided he wants a takeaway, which in reality was to open all my cupboards and start ransacking my good food all without asking me (a bit of "please" and "thankyou" is the decent thing when you're digging through someone's horde at the very least).
"Oih, get out of there you drunk twat" shouts I while laughing. Mark didn't like that however. He spins around, points his finger at me and starts hurling abuse at me like I've just drop kicked a puppy into a blender.
"You fucker" he slurs,"uu can even take a fkin joke..." and with that he glares at all of us, spins defiantely on his heels and marches out. Into the bathroom. Then immediately back out again towards the front door, looking completely confused and repeating "..can't take a joke..." before finally leaving. The rest of us did laugh hard at him for that.
(, Wed 30 Mar 2011, 15:30, Reply)

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