Last Night in Fact
Aaaah.

I planted a small cheese biscuit in a plant pot, in the hope it would grow, and then I fell down the stairs face-first into a bean bag.

But that's not it. One person god shitfaced and some vodka within an hour of getting there.He gets violent. He collapsed twice, threw a hot-cross bun at the wall, and broke his glasses and pushed people around. We (well, my friends.. I'm a pussy) took him outside and tried to get him to go home. I heard of escapades with him punching phone boxes and the like. His Dad actually came and got him in the end.

Cue two hours later the phone is ringing. The party's host is attending to a passed out girl on the stairs, so he instructs someone else to answer the phone.

It's the police. They have reports of violence in the area and they're ringing to just check that things are alright, and if it's necessary for someone to be sent down. The collapsed girl wants to be a police-woman, and when she hears of the call she bursts into tears. All of this is obviously auidble to the police on the phone, who ask for a second opinion from someone else in the party (the most sober person we could find).

I run to the kitchen and drank the most water I've ever drank in 2 minutes in my life; fueled by drunken panic. I thought I was going to fucking explode, it was like an oral enema.


Panic is rife. Then the host comes down an says it was all a joke. The policeman, who was very formal, was one of his mates who he had told him about the nights events over MSN- for a realistic police call (being able to refer to specific events.. a broken bottle, violence with a phone box..)

Cue a torrent of violence truly worthy of the police being called. Of course, being dopily drunk, none of us twigged that the police wouldn't bloody know the telephone number to contact.

Twats.
(The One That Time Forgot, Mon 17 Apr 2006, 21:10, Reply)