that reminds me
When I lived in jamaica (yawn, he always talks about jamaica after a few beers), I practically starved to death.
As a veggie in a country where veggie means you eat chicken but not goat, I struggled somewhat to get a healthy diet.
I was in a poor village that only had one shop that was only good for tins of fish or meat and some stale hard-dough bread (the only bread in the world that can go from fresh to mouldy in half a day).
Anyway, I survived due to the kindness of strangers and that way managed to get a meal at least every three days (it was a hell of a way to diet - I lost two stone whilst I was there and I wasn't a fat bastard before I went).
fruit and milky drinks made up most of my diet between meals.
only one time did I allow myself to get tempted by that old jamaican breakfast, rum with milk. Now this was with overproof rum, you can strip paint with it.
In my defense I was desperatly hungry and milk was about the best thing I could get, someone else was buying it and they slipped a shot of rum in it.
Within about two minutes I was pissed as a fart and giggling like a maniac.
After another two of these (they were strangly filling) we were all fucking hammered and talking utter shit.
Then my mate (who was going through the same thing as me) started arguing with me and acting almost violent. Being pissed up myself I told him to go fornicate with a goat or somesuch. Then, without a word of warning, he kicks me up the arse.
I felt a bit like Bishop Brennan from father ted and screamed "Why the fuck did you just kick me up the arse?"
His response was to sneer at me and then try and do a chinup on the roof struts of the bar.
As he lifted himself up his hands slipped and he fell about six foot onto his arse. Everyone laughed as he rolled around in pain (turned out later he'd fallen onto his tailbone). He staggered to his feet, made a rude gesture at everyone and then left the bar and got on his bike. He'd rode off majestically for about three feet, then hit a concrete step and flew of the front of the bike landing face first in the dirt.
After we stopped laughing we went and picked him up and carried him back into the bar. Parts of his face looked like squashed tomato. To help the pain we got him another rum and milk whilst we all laughed and took the piss.
Eventually we had to take him to hospital. On the way I checked the time to see it was only 9.30am.

Rum and milk, breakfast of champions.
(EvilMeister, Fri 18 May 2007, 0:38, Reply)