Balls
I'm not sure if this is quite on-topic, but you won't know until you reach the end. So here goes.

It's December 1995, and I am a fresher. My hall of residence, along with those adjacent, throws a Christmas ball to see out the term. Having queued for hours to get tickets, my stablemates and I are keen to get our money's worth.

Already half-cut by the time the meal was served, we noticed - we could not have failed to notice - the table laden with booze, just over there. Curious to know what it is, we investigate. Bottles of wine, Martini, Taboo (look: it was the '90s, OK?) call us like glass sirens. And, not being tied to the mast, we are helpless. They must be ours.

For the girls in their ballgowns, half-inching them is difficult, so S, A, O and the three Js don't get much. But G (of bank robbery fame), C and I are wearing tuxes; I am in a waistcoat, too. Borrowing a bottle is easy. Drinking the contents is easier.

But this leaves us with a problem: how to dispose of the empties? We don't know why the bottles were there, but even we can tell that they oughtn't to be here. The solution is to slide an empty back under the tux, then to go and speak to a vague aquaintance on the other side of the room. During the course of the conversation, the bottle could find its way under the interlocutor's table.

The plan works like a dream: as the meal is cleared away and the dancing starts, we lose all our empties.

From that point on, my awareness of events is hazy, except for two things. One is the realisation at some point that there is an attractive young lady attached to my face - I hadn't noticed before, but don't really mind. The second is an announcement over the PA as midnight strikes.

"We were supposed to be having a raffle now. But someone seems to have stolen all the prizes."



Ah. So that's what they were...
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 14:17, 3 replies)

*Grins*
I like this, the old 'drunken confusion' is a mighty force.
( Cawl, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 14:31, closed)

hehe
*click*
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 17:05, closed)

I like...
very much (said in Borat accent).
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Fri 11 Jan 2008, 17:30, closed)