There was an Aussie stoner I used to work with had it. He told me a lovely story about how he'd gone to Euston to meet some mates when he was off his face.
He'd gone to the station pub there, and fallen asleep in the chair, and "There must have been a convention in town, or something, because I woke up and there were HUNDREDS of them all over the pub!"

He freaked out and ran away and didn't meet his mates. The prick.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Tue 13 May 2014, 12:30, Reply)