There was this cocktail party once
in a rather roomy shed in a schoolmate's garden.
Quite a few schoolmates had come, and unfortunately, we weren't able to prevent the presence of the most unpleasant geek imaginable, as he had just discovered partying (about 3 years later than everyone else), lived close by, and had overheard the conversation.

Just to picture the scene: this bloke was quite tall, wore glasses as thick as zoo windows,
and always wore ill-fitting tracksuits, or tracksuit trousers. He was boring, painfully unfunnny and laughed aloud at his own jokes, and to top it off he always stood extremely close to whom he was speaking to. Noone dared to deny him entrance out of pity.

So there he was, and after about two minor cocktails, he starts sighing and complaining he was "incredibly drunk". The host, meanwhile, kept on throwing "subtle" hints for him to leave.

-"So D, shouldn't you be heading home? It's ten o'clock already, mate!"
-"Nah, I'm drunk. Did I tell you I'm drunk? Because I am. I'm so drunk I might not get home. Because I'm drunk. I'm drunk, I am. I am drunk.
I might have to stay here and sleep over."
-"NO! I mean, nonsense, I'm sure you're sober enough to go home. Very soon. "

At a certain point he went and sat in the garden with a puke bucket to "sober up".

Apart from that, the party was all right though. I even ate snacks off a supermodel! But that's another story.

Insert saucy length/girth joke here
(Caustic Armadillo consists at least 30% out of custard, Sat 15 Apr 2006, 23:01, Reply)