The answer is get invited to 3 office parties that aren't your own
I got invited to 3 other people's office Christmas parties in the last week. The first was a frumpy retirement/xmas bash in a posh golf club in Hampshire. It involved an old school retiring government officer that us business owners all know and love, and whilst meeting his replacement with unease, HB said afterwards "he looked a nice friendly c**t" - but the food was free and I managed to squeeze 4 gin and tonics, HB had about the same, off the government, in the space of an hour. Well worth it.

Cue in party #2, this time in Cornwall, with our lads who work for us and their mates, colleagues who organised it and no Government officers. £15 a head 3-course bash in the evening, disco included but the drinks were expensive. Top employee lad told me he was pissed and looked it then tried to tell his wife he was as sober as a judge, whilst walking like a crab with a port hand list on. There is much more but let's keep it simple.

Party #3 was £20 a head in a local pub that's about to change hands, no-one in there except the landlord and the host, his workers and some mates down our local pub (lots of real ale pubs round here). Host runs a transport company. We sat on a table for 7 in the so-called restaurant and the rest sat on a table next to us for 9. Cue in my immediate person on my left hand side, called G, who I politely said hello to as I didn't know him, and introduced myself. He had 3 teeth in his head I could see and on enquiring what he did the answer was 3 months in Winchester Nick from Jan 1. On further enquiry as to why he got his sentence (coz I'm like that) it appeared he hit a copper. Straight face I then enquire if it was worth the 3 months' time and an affirmative reply came forth. Next case, I thought, so then ask the couple sitting opposite me and HB how they knew the host, and it turns out they run another transport company. They kept disappearing from time to time asking for fresh air and on asking one of the host's employees, called M, turns out they were going out for a spliff and would I care to join them ? Ha ha anyway the 1st course arrives and M and G have pre-ordered cauliflower soup which looks like thin porridge, and say same, which gets a bit of a look from G but what the hell, he hit the Copper, not me, then my/HB starter of chicken liver pate arrives and both plates look like some dog has just.....so on enquiring as to the taste of the soup M says it's fookin' orrible, do ya want a taste? (he was right) where G is lapping it up big time, but keeps saying "you gotta eat ya grub mate" like a true lifer.....so the hippies ordered prawns which looked sorta ok, but then they probably looked like giant prawns after the spliffs. G goes to the gents so M then pours half of his soup into G's bowl to make it look like they've at least eaten half, G comes back from gents and laps up the rest of the soup....cue in waitresses who clear plates with no comment. Main course turns up and G is stuffing his face with rib of beef - on enquiring into the state of the rib I didn't get a look in so it must have been ok cos my turkey was disgusting, and the bread sauce looked like the soup. The wine turns up - surprisingly good for that kind of establishment. Sweet arrives, and someone called J arrives late, so he gets his main whilst we all eat the dessert.

The veg were left on the table (big mistake) whilst the sweets were being served. The choice was cheesecake or xmas pud. I couldn't put my spoon into the pud as it was over-microed and the brandy sauce looked like the soup. The cheesecake was a lump of goo and had as much cream on it as the cake itself. Cue M who is now pissed as a fart, he says "I'm not putting up with this anymore" and throws his cheesecake at J, where the cream stays on J's head and the cake falls in J's turkey. J now looks like a unicorn gone wrong and spouts "you C**T i've only had one F*ck*ng drink" which fuels M into grabbing my xmas pud, rolling it into balls and flinging it at the other table faster than that. Then he starts on the sprouts. A food fight fest ensues, with M grabbing HB's cheesecake and rubbing it - mit cream - into someone's shaven head on the other table. M gets xmas pud forced down his throat...there is food everywhere - floor, table, walls, ceiling....the the host asks if there are any darts...landlord is ROFLHAO cos he's not gonna be there after February......

It was the best £20 I've spent this year.
( Tiggy the diver, Wed 22 Dec 2004, 20:21, Reply)