It's raining beer
First-year halls of residence, last night of the bar after the first term. The place was packed solid. The price of beer had been dropping all night -- it started at £1/pint, then 50p, then 20p, 10p and finally, because they wanted to finish the open barrels, free.

Uh-oh.

Some bright spark yelled 'beer fight' and all hell broke loose. There was beer flying everywhere. Not to be left out I barged my way to the bar, ordered half a dozen pints then wellied them into the crowd. Within minutes everyone was soaked, head-to-foot with cheap, stale lager.

Next thing I knew I was being picked up by the scruff of the neck and manhandled out of the bar, where I was launched onto a growing pile of recently-ejected drunkards. The wardens (some of whom were right evil bastards) were doing their bit to sort things out, and it was clear that retribution would be forthcoming once things had calmed down. So we did the smart thing and legged it.

Next day, we were all summoned into a special meeting with the head warden, who in a very headmasterly way lectured us all on what was and was not appropriate behaviour. He also explained that the damage to the bar was so extensive that all the furniture, carpets, curtains and even the ceiling tiles would have to be replaced, at considerable expense.

There was no way they were going to be able to single out any one person to blame, so we all got off scot-free save for the stern talking-to. That was the last time they ever had a free bar, though...
( reallywittyname veraciously conspues lexiphanicism on, Tue 25 Sep 2007, 12:38, Reply)