painting the management's porcelain
Went out for a few beers and a curry with my boss once.

The first few pints went down quite well, and the next few soon joined them in a happy tummy beer party. Then it was off to the curry house, where I cleverly ordered something exotic, containing more chillies than actual meat or rice... My tastebuds tranquilised by beer, I wolfed down the lot without blinking, and then it was off to the late bars for more beer fun.

Got back to my boss's place late on, somewhat the worse for wear, and made my fatal mistake. He didn't have any beer in, but offered me a warm 750ml bottle of blue wkd. I quaffed about half of it before admitting defeat, and then felt a little bit poorly and decided it was time for bed.

Woke up at 7am with a rapidly developing headache and a nagging sensation. My body contained more toxins than it was entirely happy with, and was telling me that it was time to urgently expel them. From both ends.

So I prance into the bathroom and sit down for a particularly dribbly poo, while leaning over and merrily vomiting a mixture of blue wkd and chilli death curry into his sink.

Of course, I hadn't really been able to taste the spicy evil of this curry when I ate it, but by crikey I knew it was hot on the way out. It burns, it burns! You haven't lived until you've vomited whole undigested chillies through your nose, while pooing yellow gravy.

It took my boss a week to unblock his sink.

Apologies for girth.
(baz, Fri 20 Aug 2004, 11:05, Reply)