Nobody vomits like a kid vomits.....
About five years ago, our eldest daughter - who was about two at the time - came toddling into the living room looking decidedly iffy, came up to me and said "Daddy I think I'm going to be ......", and then proceeded to blow chunks in a manner usually reserved for people accustomed to consuming 14 pints of guinness and a large vindaloo.... For some reason, I held out both hands, cupped in such a fashion as to catch the aforementioned liquid-laugh, little realising the phenomenal capacity of vomit that one so small can produce. Having reached overflow limit in a little over a second, I realised the futility of my actions, and deciding there probably wasn't a vessel in the house big enough to contain the tide of puke emitting from my offspring, I decided to abandon my original plan, and get her to the bathroom as fast as was possible....
Dumping the vomit I'd already collected onto the floor (this didn't seem to present a major problem, as we'd only recently had all the carpets removed and laminate flooring put down throughout the whole house....a fact for which at this precise moment I was supremely grateful), I grabbed my infant vomit-tardis, turned her around (let's face it, as much as we love 'em, we don't want them puking in our faces...), and headed off for the bathroom.

And this was my undoing....

To get to the bathroom (it was a bungalow), I had to pass from the living room, through the hall, across the dining room, into the inner hall, and thence into the bog. We made it as far as the dining room before she upchucked in an even more spectacular fashion than previously. Unfortunatley, I wasn't aware of this fact until my bare feet made contact with it........did I mention the fact we'd recently had laminate flooring laid?

The resulting fall would have looked unbelievable even by cartoon standards. There was the running on the spot sequence - featured highly in Scooby Doo episodes where Shaggy tries to leg it but never seems to get anywhere - followed by the slow motion descent straight onto my backside whilst yelling "Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo......!" in perfect synchronisation.
Somehow, throughout all this, I managed not to drop the author of my misfortune, and turned her round to make sure that she was alright. With hindsight, this wasn't one of my better ideas......yep, she barfed all over me....
The attempt to get up, and distance myself as far as was humanly possible from this waking nightmare, must have looked like an old Keystone Cops episode as I slid this way and that but couldn't find any purchase on what had now become a technicolour skating rink.
Fortunately, my wife was on hand to piss herself laughing at my dilemna.....did she help? Did she arse. She stood there shaking and clutching her sides as the tears streamed down her face, whilst I lay sprawled in the stuff bad dreams are made of, praying for God to inflict a prolapsed uterus upon her....

I can look back and laugh about it now, and my psychiatrist has told me that my bedwetting should stop within a year or two.....

(sorry about the length, but sod it....those of you who have an elderley relative, of whose will you are the sole beneficiary might want to take a few pointers from this....lubricated laminate floor, dodgy eyesight/ticker/hip....you work it out)
(Desolation Angel, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 12:01, Reply)

Not me, but like Max Boyce, "I was there"
Playing "Pirates" in school PE was a special treat. Nobody had to die for at least a month before we were allowed Pirates. All the gym equipment came out, and it would stay out for a whole week, such was its popularlity. Best not played straight after lunch break, mind.

Andy Collins climbed a rope, all the way to the ceiling of the gymnasium - some twenty feet up - and by looping the rope around his leg managed to stay there. It took more effort that it looked, because he soon sweating like Alex Ferguson in front of an FA committee and looking decidedly peaky.

We hated Andy, the bastard, the king of the double portion in the dinner hall. The shape of a cigarette, he could eat anything and not put on an ounce of weight. God knows where it went, but today it wasn't going to stay there.

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARCH!!!!!!" he said.

Double sausage, beans and chips followed by sponge pudding and pink custard rained down onto the panicked ranks of pirates below, who slipped, fell and crashed into each other like the Keystone Cops Mud Wrestling Spectacular that never quite made it to cinema screens. Puke. Diced carrots. Green goo. And as heads collided in blind panic, blood, blood, endless blood!

Mr Prince freaked. His brand new PE mats looked like an entry for the Turner Prize, and would probably have won if entered as an allegory on human frailty. His best vaulting box would have to be burnt, and three basketballs were subsequently deemed a danger to human health and formed part of a government dossier on chemical weapons.

The vomit and blood-soaked hoardes huddled together in the corner of the gym, swearing death on the miscreant Collins.

"Sorry," he said.

Oh, that's alright then.

We never played Pirates again.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:25, Reply)

A few years ago
I was in mid break up with a girlfriend for mutual reasons, we decided to go back to her house for one last shag and a few drinks... we were both very skint so we chipped together and bought cider and lager (VERY BAD IDEA!!!) and proceeded to mix them. The night passed in a strange blur.

The next day I awoke with the WORST hangover ever in the history of man. My ex-girlfirend then shouted up "would you like some egg on toast?". This caused bizzare rumbling sin my stomach and i climbed out of bed and ran to her bedroom window, spew bulging in my mouth and proceeded to vomit ciolently out of the window into the garden below. Still hanging out of thw window, i recovered slightly and noticed one set of neighbours having a family barbeque; all staring up at me and anpother neighbour mowing his lawn and laughing his socks off at my ashen face....

I went back to bed for a few hours. Later, I felt the sickness and decided to avoid the embaressment and make a break for the bathroom downstairs. Halfway down the stairs i felt the bile and vomit in my throat and made a last break for the bathroom door which was closed. I kicked it open and immediately slipped on the bathroom mat, I fell forwards - vomiting everywhere on the mirror, in the bath and all over the floor and myself.
2 seconds later I looked up from my prone position to find myself face to face with my ex- girlfriends father who was calmly taking a shit on the toilet, newspaper dripping spew and the most horrified look on his face!!!!

I never saw my girlfriend or her father ever again after that day!

beat that!
(Kayozz, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 21:50, Reply)

A royal visit
Early nineties, en route to the pub. My friends and I notice swarms of biddies and police crowding a street, and, after questioning several of the oldies we realise Princess Diana is opening up some medical centre in an hours time. A friend has a great idea to streak in front of her as she arrives, so we go to the pub for dutch courage. Many shorts later and we're pressed against the barriers as a limo appears, and out steps Diana. The promised streaker suddenly gets stage fright and asks if i'll do it, to which I reply forcibly in the negative. In response, he replies forcibly with an upper cut to my kidneys. I gag in response, and then regurgitate a guiness and carrot medley all over several old ladies and the path of the Princess, who gets escorted round the stinking puddle. I swear she gave me a really evil look. And a sweet old lady called me a wanker with such venom she nearly dislodged her dentures.
(trumplefahrt, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 11:05, Reply)

A single bean
Not booze related, but still a great puke:

School Assembly, early morning. I must have been about 5 or 6, and had been fortified for the day ahead by my loving mother who had fed me beans on toast for breakfast. Delicious!

Unfortunately, something went wrong with my body. I started to feel more and more dizzy and hot, and felt the puke coming... and desperately tried to hold it in. I almost succeeded!

I choked back 99.5% of the first big heave, but was unable to prevent a solitary bean from exiting my mouth and landing on the floor in front of the boy sat cross-legged to my right.

"What's that?" he asked

"I dunno," I nonchalantly replied.

5 seconds later, the rest of the beans followed their intrepid pioneer brother in a veritable tomato-based fountain of vomit.

The teachers did their best to comfort me, but I was mortified. My wife thinks this story is hilarious.
( AntonSporz, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 9:02, Reply)

Phantom Chunder
Millenium news years eve in Cardiff. As you can imagine the booze was flowing like the river Taff and everybody, including my then girlfriend (Who was unbelievably refined and well mannered) was properly leathered. After the traditional shenanigans we made our way back to her parent's place, where I vaguely remember passing out in her room.

I woke up the next morning not just with a mouth like Ghandi's sandal, which I was expecting, but completely naked and alone in a bare bed, which I wasn't.

My clothes were nowhere to be found so I robbed up one of her dresses and went looking for my bird's little sister. She refused to tell me what was going on but handed me a note written in the flowery hand of my missus. The exact wording was;

"Forgot you were there. Was sick all over you. Stripped you down. Washed you and sheets. Was sick on you again. Cried. Left. Am now in Brighton, ashamed. Sorry."

I had to wait another 2 hours for my clothes to be dry, sat in the kitchen with her family in a fairly see-through dress. Nice.
(Kong, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 13:39, Reply)

Ooh, I've got one for this.
About 8 years ago, I had a mate called Matt. He was a bit of a booze legend if truth be told. Anyway, one night down the local, we were getting ready to head into town, and Matt had a full pint to finish off. He downed it in one, and then almost immediately vommed it back into his glass. Almost exactly a pint of slightly cloudy lager-vom.

Anyway, as we were leaving to get on the bus, he collared a passing student and offered to sell them his pint for £1. The student was delighted at this offer of cheap booze, and as we pulled away on the bus took a mighty draught from his new acquisition.

Ewwwwwwwww....
( supermoore: HUNG, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 15:57, Reply)

"more scrumpy!"
1x bottle absinthe
1x bottle aftershock (red)
1x bottle bacardi
an awful lot of beer
and two extremely large and suspicious bottles of some murky looking liquid labled 'Scrumpy'
some* pills* (*indeterminate)

the four friends imbibed this booze fest whilst 'enjoying' bucket after bucket after bucket after bucket... it got late and things began to go wrong. I myself wandered into the nearby field and suffered a mighty panic attack whilst shouting at a cow - staggered back to the house to find 'D' doing the 'stab in between your fingers with a big knife' game but getting it messily wrong. 'E' was asleep in a chair, calmly I thought until he suddenly shot up and stated, 'more Scrumpy!', whereupon he went outside and into next door's front garden. He then walked right up to their livingroom window and roared an obscene amount of sick onto it and the nearby flowerbeds.
'A' was sitting in the bathroom, in the toilet, big sickie grin round his chops and in his beard. I looked in the direction of his smile and saw a tiny little poo in the bath. It was only small, but it stunk and it made me do a little sick. then 'A' did a sick. then 'D' came upstairs and saw us sicking and he made a sick too. After our communal sick we all felt better, but still twisted so we went downstairs and 'E' was sat on the front garden - he was holding a cat and sicking on it.

No apologies for length because you love it.
(lemonymillenniumbaboon, Wed 25 Aug 2004, 11:58, Reply)

The Orthodontist cheek incident
I had an evil shit for an Orthodontist. One day, while he was in my mouth, upto the elbow with his torque rench (or summat) he touched that vom trigger at the back of my throat.

I tried to warn him "Imb gonba buke" said I.

"I'm sorry, what?" he said withdrawing his hands from my mouth and actually leaning his ear toward my face.

Boosh! Have it! Right on the side of the face. I copped a bit of splash back, but it was fucking worth it.
( bowdie, Sat 21 Aug 2004, 22:33, Reply)

Best one. In a night club in norway drunk.
My mate has a bit too much to drink. Starts running to the bog with his had over his mouth with a bit of puke squirting through his fingers.

He kicks the first cubical open and chucks up all over a guy that was having a shit.

The guy was build like a brick shit house. And my mate thinks that when he gets up he going to kick his arse. So he punches the dude having a shit in the face, spliting his nose and runs out of the night club.

Leaving the guy with half a turd hanging out his arse coved in meaty sick and with fucked up nose.
(waxdart hello., Fri 20 Aug 2004, 16:24, Reply)

My worst Vimto...
It was a warm one i had on a train in 1995, left a purple stain on my shirt when it overfizzed.

Oh hang on, I read that wrong...
(trumplefahrt, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 11:11, Reply)

As a kid
My family used to take holidays on a canal boat.
The problem being with this is that sometimes if the water tank hasn't been sterilsed properly it gets nasty bugs and this one bug decided to attack all of us on board.
My Mum decided we could only eat soup (we only had cream of tomato) and bread.
With the movement of the boat the smell of my brother and sister vomiting into buckets wasn't the best place to be ill in, so i went out onto the back of the boat to get some air.

My stomach decided this wasn't as good an idea as i first thought and decided it needed to make me evacuate my dinner of soup and bread.
The problem was it evacuated my body at speed and caused me to projectile vomit up the side of the boat that was passing us through the open window and onto the guys wife who was on the other side of the open window.
( Plomien is Polish for flame, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 22:20, Reply)

How I almost puked on the Bishop of Ely before knocking myself out in a roomful of vomit
Ok, since you asked...

I sing for my College Choir, and on important College feast-days we have to sing grace before dinner can start. When we've done this we go to a small room above the main hall and get served the same meal that the Fellows/Honoured guests are eating down below, complete with unlimited quantities of port/wine.

I'd had a difficult couple of weeks what with personal issues etc and felt the need to get completely bladdered- which I immediately proceeded to do. By the end of the meal I was in no fit state for anything and had to be dragged down the stairs by a couple of friends- when we were suddenly confronted by the Bishop of Ely, who wanted to thank us for our performance earlier that evening.

After several appallingly embarassing seconds of trying to compose sentences that sounded even remotely sober I felt my stomach begin to lurch, and I somehow regained enough muscle control to barge past him and dash for my room (my friends later told me that the bishop shook his head sadly before making a quick exit). My next memory was waking up lying on the floor in my corridor's bathroom, every concievable surface of which was covered in the remains of a six-course meal that included trout, guinea fowl and about 3 bottles of port (trust me, not a good combination).

Judging from the bruise on my forehead I'd obviously slipped in my own vomit and smacked my skull on the sink. I woke up the next morning in my vomit-soaked dinner suit, realised what had happened and as I went outside to survey the damage I met my next-door neighbour coming leaving his room in a similar state. He'd also come home wankered, and as the bathroom was occupied by me ended up giving our kitchen the same treatment. The combined stench was so bad that when my other neighbour left her room she immediately puked up all over our corridor.

As I retreated back to my room after a morning of cleaning up I discovered that sometime in the night I'd also managed to puke in my sock. Nice.

Bit of an essay there, sorry.
( Shrub Rocketeer is a twisted emotional husk, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:54, Reply)

Humiliation with carrots in
It's not often that I vomit through drink, so I can remember nearly all of said events with horrible clarity. Having said that, this is the one I will truly never forget.

I went to a Tesco's Christmas party at the tender age of 17... for some reason it was being held at a really nice 5 star hotel - not the sort of place you expect to house a room full of drunken till-tarts and grocery boys but there you go. I found myself sitting at the 'younger employees' table and, being a whole year older than most, I took it upon myself to 'show them how to drink'.

Twat.

During the wine guzzling, I had to help a poor girl outside as she vomited all over the carpark. I rang her parents, put my coat around her and waited for them to pick her up. When she was safely on her way, I walked back to the party puffed up with my responsible attitude and as if to prove this new found maturity, I 'downed' a pint of red wine.

Twat twat twat.

The next thing I remember, I'm standing in the foyer of this classy hotel surrounded by 100 of my workmates and superiors. We were all waiting for the coach to turn up, so I put on my coat and absent-mindedly wipe my mouth as I yawn. Time freezes - It seems the sick girl I had galatanly helped home had also wiped her mouth... wiped it whilst wearing my coat. I had just ran an arm of someone elses crusty sick past my open mouth - I panicked, I wobbled, it was too late. Some flakes had crumbled onto my tongue and the sensation was terrifying. Vomit ran screaming into my cheeks and as I pushed through the crowd to get to the exit I slipped, tumbled and throatfuls of hot, red , angry sick splashed onto the marble floor.

Every single person I worked with had to step past my curled body and through my nightmarish redecoration of the lobby and I later heard that the store manager had to agree to pay the damages before anyone could leave.

Still, it could have been worse. As one of the instore cleaners brilliantly put it: "You could've shit yourself"
( moonjam, Sat 21 Aug 2004, 17:57, Reply)

Millennium
After a monumental street party, gin,wine,vodka,champagne,beer,nibbles etc, I woke up the following morning to realise my body felt like it had been passed through a mangle. My boyfriend and I had to travel back from my mothers that very same morning, so we said our goodbyes and proceeded to take a nice leisurely drive for the 70 mile journey.

Unfortunately, it seemed that my guts disliked the windy country roads and everytime I burped I could taste gin. Now this would have been fine, but my bowels decided to join in on the fun and make themselves known. Sitting in the car, I valiantly tried to hold on to the contents of both my stomach and my arse but the pressure was just too much.

After screeching at my boyfirend to pull over, I managed to leap out of the car and chunder copiously over the tarmac, sadly the force of this released a gust of the most horrific eggy wind from my nethers which blew into the car and promptly induced a bout of dry retching from my boyfriend, which in turn made me throw up green bile.

So there we were on Millenium day, my boyfriend dry heaving and me quacking out pockets of foul gas every time we went over a bump, whilst reeking of sick. He drove the whole 70 miles with both windows open and freezing January air blasting into my face.

We're no longer together......
( Scary Mary The D'oh Fairy, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 19:00, Reply)

Ooh, Just thought of another, less humiliating one that doesn't involve me
When I was in 10 or 11 at school, for our end of term assembly we had a special treat- the Magic Man came to visit! Towards the end of the show he asked for a volunteer to help him- and ignoring the forest of hands that shot up he chose little Jack Emery, who was several years below me and was infamous for fainting at the sight of blood (years later, he had to be carried out of the school chapel after watching a sketch where somebody popped a sachet of tomato ketchup in their pocket as they pretended to get shot).

The magician had a hat, and wanted Jack to look inside it, as that's where he kept his friend James the Goblin. It was wonderful- everyone in the hall except the poor oblivious Magic Man knew exactly what was about to happen. Even the teachers were beginning to give each other funny looks and bracing themselves for a dash to get towels and a mop.
There's an expectant hush. Jack Emery looks in the hat, James the Goblin (a handpuppet of course) jumps out- and the Magic Man promptly gets covered head to toe in a deluge of partially digested liver and onions as little Jack screams in terror. Apparently he was so scared he also simultaneously wet and shat himself.

I think James the Goblin was probably retired after that little episode.
( Shrub Rocketeer is a twisted emotional husk, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 22:22, Reply)

how about
a whole Mcdonalds french fry out of my nose...
(zeflar, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:50, Reply)

In the summertime
My mate Richard got very pissed at a party and I took him outside for some fresh air. Whilst he was lying on a sun-lounger, a light came on in the adjoining house, followed by the sound of a door opening and the unmistakable sound of a yappy dog being let out. After thirty seconds of annoying yapping, it finally burst through the hedge and came yapping up the garden towards us. Just as the little bleeder got level with us, Richard spilled his guts, showering the dog in red-wine fondue. Yaps turned to yelps and the dog turned and ran for it. Cue, light coming on, sound of door opening and a bloke shouting "WHAT THE FUCK...!!".

Oh joy!
( Linbox has a serious dunk habit, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:44, Reply)

drunken hippy
I was once on a train home from uni (way up north, Durham in fact, as if it fucking matters) and I was amusing myself by watching this drunk hippy sitting on the floor, playing a set of bongos. He kept muttering to himself about "the butterflies" and such like, and his general weirdness attracted the attention of a big bastard Geordie sat opposite him, and his pet dog sat on his lap, who promptly started taking the piss. As he was wankered, and a hippy, he didn't really retaliate, and I started to feel sorry for the poor sod, as weird as he was being, cos he wasn't really doing anything to anyone. The Geordie stands up, goes right next to his face and starts ripping him, and I'm thinking, if only someone would do something.

The Geordie is laying into him, so close to his face his nose is almost in Hippy's ear, when all of a sudden, Hippy turns white and vomms all over the mean bastard. Geordie stands up, "What the fuck, man?" and sparks Hippy in the face. Being pissed, he hardly felt it, and being a hippy and weird, he retaliates in the only way he can think of - by grabbing the dog, chundering all over it, and giving it back.....

Needless to say, the whole carriage breaks out into applause...

(Be kind, first ever post!)

EDIT: I've only just realised how fucking mean that was on the dog, but it was worth it to see the look on the bastard's face!
(Hammer Time, Tue 24 Aug 2004, 16:31, Reply)

Cider! Lager! Blackcurrant!
. . .add a splash of own brand vodka and you've got the makings of a good night

Me and my chums had a skinful of this refreshing cocktail and headed into town. On the way home we met a group of girls at the bus-stop and decided to have a piggy back race, so I grabbed a girl and off we charged.

I suddenly knew I was in trouble- my sight began to pixellate and my ears started to ring, a situation not helped by running down the street with a girl who kept slipping down my back.In one last attempt to steady her I hitched up her leg, only to find it was in fact a prosthetic one.

This was just too much for my brain and we crashed to the floor, dislodging her leg in the process. The poor girl started crying, at which point I vomited into her lap. Her friends arrived to find her sobbing, covered in sick and missing her leg, and understandably started to beat me up.

So if you're out there Alison, I am so, so sorry. . .
(le renard, Mon 23 Aug 2004, 14:00, Reply)

About twelve years ago
when my sister was a wee nipper, we planned a family outing and a picnic. It was a lovely day and we all piled in the car, my sister in her car seat and me next to her.

The journey started off very pleasantly, playing eye spy, my sister pointing and laughing at things, when suddenly she went exceptionally quiet.

My mum looked in the rear view mirror and wanted to know what was up with her. My first thoughts was that she had shat herself, but she had this rather peculiar look on her face.

So,I turned to ask her if she was alright when it happened....her head rotated towards me, her jaw open to a 180 degree angle and billious green vomit covered me from head to toe. It spewed out in every direction, covering the back of my mums Talbot Samba and creating a large pool of milky sick in my lap.

I sat in wonderous silence for all of 10 seconds when my stomach gave way and I honked down the back of my mums head and the seat in front of me.

She pulled the car over to the curb, screaming blue murder, mopped up my sister and me as best she could and declared that we were going home. For the rest of the trip we sat in silence, apart from my sister who was happily making slappy hands in the sick on the backs of the seats.

The stench of sick was still lodged in the fabric of that car right up until she sold it.
( Scary Mary The D'oh Fairy, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 21:13, Reply)

This
is my favourite puke story ever. Friend of mine spent a joyous Friday night getting completely slaughtered at the local crap disco. She staggered into the room she shared with her sister at about two a.m. and did that thing you do when you're really, really drunk where you just sort of lie there, absolutely unable to sleep but too hopelessly plastered to do anything else but lie there not moving and hope the spinning stops soon.

As usually happens, after about half an hour of this she felt really, really sick, but knew she was far too drunk to make it to the loo, as she felt she'd done astonishingly well to make it as far as her room. So she decided the only sane thing to do was puke into her handbag, which she located in the dark and filled to the brim with bilious heaves.

She wakes up about nine the next morning, with an inner groan of "oh fuck, I threw up in my handbag last night, didn't I?". She fishes it out from under the bed and gingerly opens it to be confronted with... her makeup, her purse, some keys, a packet of tissues and a couple of condoms.

As she ponders the possibility that, finally, those weird supernatural beings that put your clothes in the fridge while you're sleeping off a massive bender had done something nice for a change and spirited her vom off to that place where the tenner you remember having in your pocket when you left the pub goes, the phone rings.

It is her sister.

She has just arrived at school.

And she has just opened her schoolbag.
(Wong Fei-Hung - now with added flickr.com (see profile), Fri 20 Aug 2004, 18:22, Reply)

Nazi tummy
A few years ago when I was still living in my parents loft room, I was awoken violently at about 4am and was sick over myself in bed and had to dash to the loo to finish being be very sick in the en-suite toilet. I felt like death but managed to go back to sleep.

Then around 9am, after calling in ill to work with food poisoning I realised I needed to run to the loo again to be sick, I was naked as I'd taken off my sick covered boxers. As i was heaving into the loo, the strain on my gut caused me to follow through with what can only be described as anal gravy, all over the bathroom floor behind me.

Realising that I couldn't stop my squits firing out I had to make a quick turn to sit on the loo I just been sick into. The stench of the shit made me throw up even more and as I slipped in my crap to try and sit on the loo I tried to also reach for the basin near the toilet to be sick into a the same time, only it was just out of reach.

I then spent the next 10 minutes alternating between throwing up over my knees and sink and shitting into/around the loo as I tried to time the exits from both holes.
(fatcatpat, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 17:26, Reply)

Not everyone from the West Country drinks Cider...
...cos' nearly all of us got silaged on it when we were ickle and learnt the error of our ways. Some of us are never sick through booze at all (*pushes out chest*) But there are still a few who do, like my mate Pie.

We call him Pie, cos frankly, he ate them all. And being a big lad, he can hold a lot of volume. Precious little alcohol, mind, but a lot of volume.

Pie, over the years, has given us a lot of chunder stories to variously delight, appall or just plain scare us. Who can forget the time he vommed green sambuca all down his front on a busy DLR train whilst showing us how to do air guitar to Pink Floyd? Or the scientific demonstration of Bounty kitchen roll's absorbancy, compared to other inferior brands, through the medium of bile?

But the best one EVAH is the story of the Dirty Snowman. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.

Young Mr Pie is at a Christmas eve party at a friends. Being a big ol' muso, he's on the decks thrilling us with the crispest cuts and phattest beats. (Well Bachmann Turner Overdrive, to be exact, but top marks for effort.)

So deep in his art is he that the drinks are fair sliding down his throat - cider, beer, wine and that strange green shit that always turns up at parties, but that no-one will own up to having brought. You know the stuff.

Eventually, tho, it's El Pie that is sliding... down the walls, nearly taking the decks and some speakers with him. Oh, and the people trying to hold him up as well. It was a fast, furious and almost fatal collapse. Think the World Trade Centre wearing an REM tshirt and you'll get the idea.

Now, being the kind, considerate RESPONSIBLE friends that we are, we chuck him outside to cool off, mainline water into him and promptly piss off back inside to continue getting ratted. Until of course we get bored.

Now, at this point, Pie is sitting on a chair, outside, in the middle of winter, and it's snowing. So we put a hat on him. With a bobble.

He looked quite cute.

So we put a scarf on him as well. By this point, he looked very festive as well as cute. At this point, someone said that he'd look like a snowman if he was wearing white. Being the ingenious (and thoroughly unoriginal) people that we are, the solution was right at hand - bog roll.

Quick as a flash, he's wrapped up like a fetish buddha, with a jaunty Andrex bow at his neck.

On reflection tho, putting the cigarette in his mouth was a mistake.

You know how on a clear day, sometimes you can hear thunder a way off, and you think "it'll miss us, no need to do anything sensible like take a coat out. We'll be fine." at which point you get absolutely fecking drenched?

Well, we heard thunder coming from Snowman Pie. We did not heed the warning.

We saw his bobble shake, his head dip, the neck bulge, the torrent of booze flow from his nose, explode from his mouth and frankly fountain from his nose. Everywhere. Down his shirt, onto his shoes, I swear UP under his glasses and collect in the turnups of his jeans.

Unfortunately there were several revellers around him who got caught in the splashback - happily yours truly was behind a window and thus protected.

Apart from the sight of the vom causing his carefully crafted bow to wilt, droop, soak up chunder and finally, like an aged cock, dangle sadly down.

So we all left him and went back indoors to carry on drinking.

Thank'ee.
( Grouch would quite like his clients to stop being numptys, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 17:04, Reply)

Inappropriate puking
I am the king of inappropriate spewing. Some of my most memorable have been:

- Running to the toilet in my old office (long walk) but only managing to get as far as my bosses desk and having to puke in his plastic bin. Whilst on the phone to a customer. Loud! Humiliation came in when he made me walk the dripping bin bag to the bins outside, when I got to the door he shouted out of the first floor window 'That blokes got a bag of sick' to all the smokers, somehow made me sick again. Ooops
- Having a bad hangover the other week, pulling into a layby and spewing everywhere as soon as I exited the car. Didn't notice the police car behind me (nothing happened luckily!)
- On the same morning as above, got sick on my shoes and trod it into the car. Said car was on loan from my boss as mine was dead, and was on the way to his house to drop it off - 'Who the fuck's puked in my Saab'
- Another morning hangover, this time midweek, Chairman was over on his bi-monthly visit from the USA, forgot, puked in the nearest bog (his bog, personal, private, and since then very smelly) 'Who's been sick in my toilet?'
- Puking in my Dad's wellies when I was about 14, they were on the step underneath my bedroom window
- Know the posh black Westminster City Council Public Toilet signs? Used to work in the graphics company who designed them, puked tea and orange juice on the first pilot batch
- Recording a puke session on my dictaphone and playing it back through my surround sound system. Neighbours heard. One mentioned he liked the 'Oh fuck' whine just before the biggest rush!

Many more but I'm bored now!
( pattwat, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 13:53, Reply)

Shit and Vomit
Some years ago I was struck down by typhoid in Cambodia. As it happens, (and before I knew I had typhoid), I went out to dinner with a bunch of people. Although I felt in full control of my senses (clearly I was in the grip of a high fever), one of the people I was with kept saying that I looked awful. I was annoyed and insulted. Later that evening (having gone to bed with my girlfriend) I awoke, desperately needing to vomit. The house we were sharing had a bathroom with 2 doors. Unfortunately the one I needed was locked. Quickly I collapsed in a frenzy of shit and vomit, gushing from both ends. I was very ill. Clearly I was making loud retching (or is it reaching?) noises, as one of the people we were sharing a house with came into our room. The floors were wooden and they had not noticed the vomit and liquid faecal matter all over the floor. They slipped and knocked themselves unconscious, while successfully covering themselves in my anal seapage and puke. My girlfriend awoke at this stage...I wonder what her initial thoughts were?
(Don Baba, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 13:15, Reply)

Music class...
Being in the top stream at school, we didn't get to unleash our superior intellects on drum kits or Casio keyboards like the rest of the streams. Oh no. We got to learn the recorder.

For some unfathomable reason, on one occasion someone was sick in music class. For some even more unfathomable reason, said person tried to fight the urge rather than dash off to the loo, failed, and turned their recorder into a rather spectacular vomit fountain...
( biggus_richus, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 11:22, Reply)

Vomtastic
Not me but my other half, for argument's sake we'll call him Nathan because that is his name, must hold the world record for bizarre vomit spectaculars.

The first one of which must have happened when he was about 20. Whilst standing on a train platform nursing his hangover from the night before he decided the best way to go was to get a carton of Ribena from the kiosk, rip open the top and dissolve 2 alka seltzers in it. He was feeling fantastic after drinking it for approximately 5 seconds before the Ribena/Alka Seltzer decided to make a reappearence. Not such a bad thing if it had come out as a regular pavement pizza but it proceeded to ooze out of his nose/mouth in a long slow procession resembling an enormous foam purple snake. Funny really was not the word - especially those around him waiting for the 10.20 to Grantham.

On the subject of pavement pizzas.... the second feat in his olympic winning barforama resulted in a life ban from Pizza Hut without even having to go in the front door. After a looong afternoon in the pub he decided it was a good time to go home and this involved walking past the glass fronted aforementioned restaurant. Glaring in the through the window at all the families tucking into their food was too much for his delicate stomach but rather than just throw up all over the floor he applied his mouth to the window, chucked up and blew at the same time. Result - a beautiful beer butterfly spreading the entire span of the window, lots of disgusted families and the Manager chasing him down the road.

Finally, nursing another morning after stomach he thought that the most stomach settling thing to have would be milk. This actually managed to stay down for at least 15 mins before coming back up in the garden in the form of the exact replica of a large helping of scrambled egg. I'm sure it didn't taste the same but it didn't stop next door's dog.......
(Loving Vixen, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 10:46, Reply)

Fire is the cleanser...
After a night of very heavy drinking at a meeting of internet geeks (I us the term with love), a couple of friends wandered over to the local Aldi carpark to play with fire (as you do).
They were experienced fire breathers and fire twirlers. I was... perhaps not so experienced. After watching an impressive display of fire breathing I demanded to be taught how to do it...

A couple of false starts, but then I was producing some decent flames. At the same time I was swallowing a quantity of kerosene / paraffin oil. Combined with the beers and whiskies I'd been enjoying, I think we can see where this is going.

Sudden nausea struck, and I vomited a nasty goo that lit as it passed the torch. I had invented a new act: Fire Vomiting! Yay!

To this day I remain proud and unabashed. I believe there may even be photographs somewhere.
(fogbat, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 10:29, Reply)

Once, during a night on the piss
for a dare I covered myself in feathers and promtly ate three pounds of unhulled millet, four packets of sunflower seeds and a whole cuttlefish bone. Later I was sick as a parrot.
( Cromagnon Don't waste my motherfucking time!, Thu 19 Aug 2004, 21:27, Reply)