School Christmas Fayre
Every school has one of these, usually held about three weeks before the head turns up to work in his brand new Honda Accord. A feature of these events is the booze raffle where perfectly serviceable alcohol is given away on school premises. Our school had the Pomagne guy - on a cut of the profits - turned a blind eye to who visited his stall.

You bought a ticket, the Pomagne guy spun the arrow, and if your number came up you won a bottle of sparkling pear cider goodness.

"Are you eighteen?" he asked, and you replied in the affirmative in your deepest, manliest voice. And there, in your cold, sweaty fourteen-year-old hands would be a bottle of genuine booze, begging to be poured down your neck.

Needless to say, by three in the afternoon, the Christmas Fayre was filled to bursting with posh kids as pissed as little beetles.

It all came to grief as the head – having already won top prize – pulled the ticket for second prize in Ye Grande Christmas Raffle just as Benny Jackett barfed rich, brown, fizzy vomit all over his second best suit and at least two of the school governors.

Before long, the speakeasy in the gym storage room was busted, and drunken teens in various states of undress were led away by seething parents.

I vowed the next morning NEVER TO DRINK AGAIN.

I broke that vow. Often, and with a vengeance.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 13:27, Reply)