Tequila, it makes you crappy
When I was a student many years ago I used to frequent the tequila society. What was meant to be a top night on the pull ended in me nearly dead and a mate with a cracked bonce. I'd type it all out, but instead I'm just going to paste in the poem I wrote about it.



Here is a tale of messrs four
Monkey, Lurch, Mr Tickle and Evil Neil – your author
This tale, it is true, I have to admit
It’s a tale of how I royally ended up in the shit

A night one summer, 98 to be exact
Four lads went off, (two right off of the track)
A night of fun we had ahead planned
To drink tequila, leave our brains unmanned

It all manifested in Leeds you see
Home of our beloved university
We had joined tequila society
A group of much notoriety

We waltzed our way through the fine city streets
Conversing of what lay ahead, such hallowed treats
To get off our tits, and fondle the rears
Of the girls we found as we slugged down our beers

Two damn hours we waited to get in the door
And the entry price stung us like some high-class whore
The queue was immense, by the time we were admitted
Neil and Tickle had made a pact to get shitted

They threw back the Cuervo like it fell through their head
While monkey and Lurch looked on with much dread
They knew the night would come to no good
And they’d have to deal with these pissed up puds

Doubles quickly transmogrified into quadruples
Weakening their knees and dilating their pupils
Monkey, a student of sesame street kept score
They’d both drank shots numbering twenty-four!

All this in under an hour no less!
Although at this moment they weren’t quite a mess
So they washed it all down with two beers more
And made they way to the tart ridden dance floor

Like waltzers at a fair ground they started to bop
But then like a felled tree Tickle just dropped!
His nut hit the deck like a melon on mallet
His skull cracked open and out poured the claret

The game was up for Tickle you see
As Lurch took him off to casualty
Neil past this point has no memory
The rest here on in is the second hand story

As Tickle puked in a bowl in Leeds infirmary
Neil dances on with increased fury
His veins swam with piss and he thought he might
Be in with a chance if the bouncers would fight

So he bravely squared up, with a crane kick ready
It worked for karate kid, but he was more steady
Losing to gravity our hero deckward fell
Into the mire of the floor and the swell

He managed to make it out the Warehouse portal
With help from Monkey, but he did not chortle
Cos while my antics may make you laugh and moan
He was the poor fucker that carried me home

What a friend, what a mate, what a splendid chum
He carried for three miles this drunken bum
Although not entirely without a mishap
A swan dive to ten feet drop to rubble put pay to that

But cut and bruised he delivered me to Devonshire Halls
Our Uni home, where we resided and had balls
Although by this time he received no thanks
As the tequila had emptied my memory banks

I was out for the count, not roused by a slap
Although I managed regurgitation into my lap
Even the ambulance and its siren
Failed to wake me from my alcoholic environ

The rushed me to the place Tickle was sent
There he sat doubled over bent
Having his noggin glued back up
As he said hello again to his dinner now served in cup

My treatment was certainly not the same,
There was no chasm in my cranium causing me pain
Instead the decided they would equip
Me with an intravenous saline drip

You see dear listener I could not be awoke
Although the ambulance men tried with pinches and poke
My tequila slumber was far too deep
As the evidence through my mouth began to re-seep

I awoke from my nap at 7 o’clock
To be greeted by the face of a Doc
Do you know where you are? She mouthed to me
Am I in Stoke-on-Trent I replied hopefully?

Another pissed student, She shook her head
Probably would have been kinder to leave him for dead
Surely the world isn’t ready for this
Five foot ten of shambling piss

But my mistake was not without folly,
As the previous weekend I had been out on a jolly
To see my sister in grotty old Stoke
To see which of her friends I’d quite like to poke

Somehow I had lost a week,
In between then and trying to speak
But to me it made sense, but because of my deeds
I had completely forgot I was in Leeds

I re-awoke at 8am
Feeling still pissed but mobile again
I remembered a phobia I had acquired
About hospitals no less and then perspired

So like Johnny blue lightening I leapt off the bed
Unplugged the drip and away out I sped
Passed the doctor that asked “You alright?”
I said “Yerp” as the urge to hurl I continued to fight

Freedom was mine! I was out of the clink
Swearing “Fuck me, I need a drink”
Although now from the infirmary released
Sobriety had not returned, my brain still deceased

So nissed as a pewt I made my jolly way
Back through rush hour traffic with stagger and sway
Dressed in my previous nights attire still
Complete with matching last nights dinner, a half digested swill

The traffic proposed no great problem as I picked my way through,
But a toilet stop was badly needed; luckily wee, but not poo
So I stopped for a respite on woodhouse moor
Leaning on tree I shook off the last drips on the floor

Then on my journey I passed a lass I knew
Who thought I had pulled last night, not seeing my spew
Passed her I dreamily went back to my halls
Back to my bed to rest my weary eye balls

I passed Monkey on my way in, what a fellow so stout
He was about to the hospital go, to come get me out
A gesture not needed now I was home
So guided me to my bed to leave me to groan

I awoke around one in the afternoon
Prepared for the hangover, ready for the swoon
But blow me those chaps in white had dealt me a clover
As I surfaced free from hang over

I headed to my sink eager for drink
But a strange sight made me stop and think
For rubbish now filled my porcelain dunker
Jeez, what a night so damn drunk I was drunker

But this presented me a riddle as set by a djinn
“If that’s in me sink what the fucks in me bin?”
I looked in the metal, right in the casket
There was no rubbish occupying this basket

Instead it was wet, yes quite moist to the touch
My mind raced at what would dampen the tin so much
And then through my nostrils the thought hit me
As the scent registered, in here I did wee

My ruin had reached a rather stale peak
As my metal bin came with a hole ripe for leak
The brown carpet beneath taken to the brink
Three carpet shampooings did not ebb the stink

This is where I leave you my friend
For this tale now I hope will live on in legend
A story of utmost foolishness and drunken revelry
And the explanation of why in Dev Hall Flat F225 smells a bit like pee



I make no apologies for length, but I am very sorry about the smell. And the shit poetry, I'm sorry for that too.
( Draconacticus Reject shampoo. Demand real poo!, Fri 25 Mar 2011, 20:29, 12 replies)

I wonder...
what will shambo have to say about this?
Something positive and constructive, I should cocoa!!
( blaireau69 , the Cumbrian Travis Bickle., Fri 25 Mar 2011, 21:17, closed)

*may contain medical inaccuracies.

I didn't wait for a diagnosis in fear of the inevitable bollocking. And I don't know what was in the thing stuck in the back of my hand, things were still a bit fuzzy at that point.

All better?
( Draconacticus Reject shampoo. Demand real poo!, Fri 25 Mar 2011, 21:37, closed)

Hey Dractus, hope you don't think I was having a go!
Seriously, not was I was getting at!
It's just I really enjoy shambo's input ;)
And tequila really is a cunt of a drink IMHO ;)
( blaireau69 , the Cumbrian Travis Bickle., Fri 25 Mar 2011, 21:51, closed)

it gives you some nasty heartburn

( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Fri 25 Mar 2011, 22:00, closed)

Darn tooting!
I reckon it's even worse than hor's d'age calvados...
( blaireau69 , the Cumbrian Travis Bickle., Fri 25 Mar 2011, 22:25, closed)

never been a calvados kind of girl

( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Sat 26 Mar 2011, 16:24, closed)

Didn't think it at all :)

Yup, tequila is nasty. Just the whiff of it now makes me want to heave.
( Draconacticus Reject shampoo. Demand real poo!, Sat 26 Mar 2011, 0:05, closed)

typical dev boy
that year we threw out several beds as they were so piss soaked and had to replace the carpet in one lads room.
(imallamallama looking forward to llamageddon on, Fri 25 Mar 2011, 22:09, closed)

Apologies. I did try to shampoo it out, but those corded arse hair carpets don't give up their secrets easily.
( Draconacticus Reject shampoo. Demand real poo!, Sat 26 Mar 2011, 0:11, closed)

I think
I might have met your Mr Tickle.
(Turangalila, Sat 26 Mar 2011, 1:46, closed)

And
it makes me want to post a few old rhyming couplets of mine.
(Turangalila, Sat 26 Mar 2011, 1:47, closed)

Were you a target of his affections?
( Draconacticus Reject shampoo. Demand real poo!, Sat 26 Mar 2011, 19:08, closed)