Matchbox Arse!
Walking back from the bar with my roommate, both the worse for wear. He slipped on a grassy bank, straight onto his arse, where a box of England's Glory resided. A huge flame and pall of smoke emanated from his jeans and he ran round frantically trying to extinguish the flames and get his jeans off at the same time, both unsuccessfully. He had the scar till the day he died, far too soon in his short life. Rest in Peace Andy.

And yes, he was cremated.

Length? About 3" x 2"
( The Lone Groover has mal des nuts., Thu 21 Feb 2013, 18:21, 1 reply)

Needless to say
I had the last half
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Thu 21 Feb 2013, 16:54, 1 reply)

I got too drunk to read the qotw suggestions and put them to the vote.

( Slippery Mick ‏, Thu 21 Feb 2013, 16:37, Reply)

LAST
night I got so drunk I fisted a gull
(Darth Foxtrot A one-man army dedicated to making fetch happen, Thu 21 Feb 2013, 16:14, 1 reply)

I was 16 and had gone on a camping trip in the to Holland with friends.
One day was particularly rainy and grim so we decided to cheer ourselves up by drinking.
As I didn't want to get 'too drunk' I started on a bottle of Cointreau one of my friends had bought on the ferry over. 'It's fruity so it must be good for you' I thought and started tucking in.
I remember starting to feel really sick and going for a walk to get some air and that's where it goes blank.

Fast forward a couple of hours and the search party found me being pulled out of a ditch by a Dutch farmer covered cow poo (me not him).

I'd like to say I learnt my lesson and never drank again....
(Nanny Pat vote for me, Thu 21 Feb 2013, 16:07, 1 reply)

My brother
My brother decided to cut back on his drinking. New town, new start etc. That was on the Monday.

Friday, his landlady used her pass key to get in to his flat and he was found unconscious and fitting on the floor. The pressure sores indicated that he had been there a minimum of three days.

Five weeks later, he is only just out of hospital and is still denying that he has a drink problem.
(harem-member hiding in the corner, Thu 21 Feb 2013, 15:24, 3 replies)

My Mancunian friend drank all of his beer last weekend
he had an out-of-Boddies experience
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Thu 21 Feb 2013, 14:51, 1 reply)

The other day I was so legless
I shot my girlfriend.
( MatJ LOOK, Thu 21 Feb 2013, 13:46, 4 replies)

I wonder if alcohol was involved?
edition.cnn.com/2013/02/20/us/california-hotel-water-corpse/index.html?hpt=hp_c4

I'll bet that a lot of people are getting hammered right now as they realize what they were drinking.
( Wanderer, Thu 21 Feb 2013, 13:12, 4 replies)

Last orders!

(Woodlouse say it with flowers. Send her a Triffid, Thu 21 Feb 2013, 10:19, 9 replies)

I once got idiotically drunk and did something truly awful. It ruined my life and I'll always, always regret it.

( 4Q just lurking, Thu 21 Feb 2013, 2:32, 12 replies)

Too soon to call Last!
Drinks?
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Thu 21 Feb 2013, 2:26, 3 replies)

Got drunk many years ago
not enough that I couldn't go to bed and go to sleep, but I did feel pretty shitty in the morning.
I ended up ralphing noisily into the toilet while the two young sprogs cried "Is Daddy going to die?" outside the bathroom door.
I never saw fit to tell this story before because it is kind of boring, but seeing that everyone else has been telling stories of the same caliber, I thought why not.
(the other guy not the one that gave you coochie warts, Thu 21 Feb 2013, 1:34, Reply)

Hat day.
I've just given up trying to write this long hand, it was turning into an essay, so here it is as a summing up.

Location: Cannes then Antibes, south of France.
Got up, had breakfast and went to the Irish bar at lunch time. We then went and bought hats and returned to the Irish bar. We tossed a coin, heads won so we went to Antibes to visit the absinthe bar. Enroute we found dodgem cars with inevitable results. From there and with minor whiplash we got to the absinthe bar, more hats were involved. Hungry next so kebabs, then back to absinthe bar. Policy there is three drinks per customer per visit (they don't want too many pissheads) so when they stopped serving us we went back to the dodgem cars. Which were closed. So we then went back to Cannes and finished the night in the Irish bar.

It was a good day.
(Woodlouse say it with flowers. Send her a Triffid, Thu 21 Feb 2013, 0:02, Reply)

There is a surfeit of FUCKING WOMEN at this club.
Fuck the Accord, maybe I should drive up in my VW POLO and SCORE SOME CLUNGE.
With thanks to The Inbetweeners.

Oh, and if you're in Cape Town come here:

www.theassembly.co.za

EDIT: I was drunk when I posted this. You're all cunts.
(Tiktock Beating off flamers with a shitty stick, Wed 20 Feb 2013, 23:16, 3 replies)

Hot tub. Iceland. -11 degrees, snowstorm.
Best week ever.
(Miraclefish How appropriate, you fight like a cow, Wed 20 Feb 2013, 22:11, 2 replies)

I am having a beer ... RIGHT NOW!

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 20 Feb 2013, 18:59, 26 replies)

Collapsed in a XXXX of XXXX (spoiler alert) in my favourite restaurant...
A friend was visiting from the north, I'd given him the large one about the amazingly diverse and cosmopolitan nature of our restaurant scene...I'd promised him an eye opening and totally unique Ethiopian eating experience that was my new favourite, favourite, favourite, place to go...

...we got lagered up to the max on stella...we called a cab...and smoked a very potent jazz roll-up whilst we waited for it to arrive...I climbed in...cheeks burning and feeling woozy. We arrived (at the marvellous, but in all honestly probably a little bit over priced, Queen of Sheba in Kentish Town)... we entered, flopped to our table and ordered up the Emperor Feast. We got stuck in very heavily and ate far too much too quickly...

I thought to myself, shit, I should take a break, this is causing the all the blood to run to my stomach and my head feels a bit light... I rolled a fag and took a drag, and then another and then... Oh fuck, I'm losing the ability to see...oh fuck...this is a situation that requires a nearby toilet...oh fuck... I can't move... Oh fuck... I am sweating... oh fuck... I suddenly felt much better. 'Wow', i thought to myself, 'that was a close escape'. I called to the waitress, 'can I get a doggy bag?'. She came over and cleared the table...

...I re-lit my fag, had a drag and booooooom... my head span...I puked a little puke into my right hand, thought, 'oh fuck, this is a two hander...' I brought my other hand up and filled it...

...the next thing I remember, I am lying under a hedge...it's a gorgeous sunny day...the wind is in my face and I feel amazing...I feel someone shaking my head...

...I wake to find I am face down on a table utterly covered in puke - literally from corner to corner... I can't remember who I am with or where I am, someone's stroking my hair - I look up, it's my mate... 'sorry', I say... standing next to me is the owner, with my doggy bag...

My mate paid and we left. Doggy bag in hand.

I've been back since. It's fucking great, very different, but a bit over priced. They always ask if i'm OK and seat me in the furthest corner...
(goshdaddy...look goshdaddy...look, Wed 20 Feb 2013, 17:12, 5 replies)

I was out on the pull with a fairly dim mate one night,
and while we were standing at the bar I started giving him some advice about general decorum. When I went to lean against the top of the bar I discovered I'd been leaning on the hatch that barstaff use to get in and out, and someone had opened it. Then Trigger made a face.
( BraynDedd Natasha Kaplinsky's labia majora, Wed 20 Feb 2013, 14:43, 11 replies)

Hungarian national drink japery
On a stag weekend in Budapest last year we decided we had to try the national tipples. One of them was the hilariously-monikered Unicum, which tastes like Jagermeister with aspirin crushed up in it. Excellent at the end of the night to settle your stomach, apparently.

The other is pálinka, which is drunk in a stemmed glass, and comes in various flavours ranging from "really quite nice" to "somebody shoot me please".

One evening saw us in a cool-looking cellar bar called Cactus Juice. Me and another chap Nathan were at the bar, getting a couple more beers before our taxi arrived. Suspended above our heads was a giant green glass ball, with a tap on the bottom. Truly it was a beauteous thing to see.

"What's that?" we asked
"Pálinka" replied the barmaid "Honeyed peach flavour!"

Nathan and I looked at each other. Honeyed peach! That sounded delicious! Two were ordered, and downed at the bar as was customary.

Ho.

Lee.

Fuck

O_o

Honeyed peach? Undead peaches in diesel, more like. Nathan and I gasped, spluttered, swore, clung to the bar as consciousness wavered, then staggered back to where the rest of the group was sitting. Not only did our beers completely fail to mask the taste of the horror we'd just drunk, but everyone made us sit at the far end of the table as the smell of the pálinka was making them all feel sick...

tl;dr - me and a friend drunk some horrible booze and I described the experience beautifully
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Wed 20 Feb 2013, 14:11, 6 replies)

At my last birthday, I was taken home by three women. Not lying.
Actually taken home. Two butch lesbians supporting me, Mrs Vagabond carrying bags (she's too small and weak to support A massively drunken Vagabond).

Apparently I was beat-boxing the entire way, and slept in the hall.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 20 Feb 2013, 12:53, 2 replies)

Dog basket
Many years ago, in my mid-late teens when I first discovered the joys of binge drinking, I polished off a 2 litre bottle of Strongbow and a quarter bottle of vodka at someone's house party .
I woke up the next morning in a dog basket, covered with a blanket.
This suggested that some kind Samaritan was concerned enough to prevent me from getting cold, but not concerned enough to move me from a hairy, smelly, flea hotel.
I thanked them by throwing up out of the window, leaving a stain on their gleaming white-washed wall.
(Judgeysan Freakishly small hands, Wed 20 Feb 2013, 12:38, Reply)