1st Year of Uni
You know the deal; this is the place where you truly discover alcohol. Obviously being raised in the British Isles and hailing from an Irish family alcohol is going to be consumed pretty soon after you get to 14/15 or so. So I was no stranger to the stuff, but I'd never messed with a certain Mr Jameson before, and oh boy was this going to be a MASSIVE fail.

I was a couple of months or so into the course, so me and my hall-mates had got to know each other a good deal over the previous weeks, and this night was a typical Friday like many previous ones before it. Myself and my mates on my floor (plus a few other faces) had gathered to the social hub that is the Student Halls Kitchen, ours being on the ground floor we were the obvious choice for the HQ so to speak. A bit of pre-drinking was in order before we marched off to "cheap Friday" at the union (so called due to £1 pints, but not many pints were touched this night, oh no) and being the adventurous type, I went for a bottle of whiskey at the local Sainsbury’s beforehand. Now being of an emerald shade of heritage as mentioned I decided to skip the scotch and go straight for the Irish (we invented whiskey by the way, not the Scots) to see what this drink was all about. I’d never had any whiskey before, just beer/cider/alcopops etc, standard stuff. But I underestimated the power of the Jameson’s this night (and many subsequently) and it was spectacular.

So we’re in the kitchen doing the usual, drinking, a bit of banter, some joking around etc. Now I clearly stated at the start of the evening when everyone saw my purchase that I was only going to go for about 1/3 of the bottle, what with the union itself I figured I'd be pretty fucked come kicking out time. So I proceeded to drink. Now my memory to this day is as blank as wayne rooney’s expression. Completely gone. But from video evidence and eyewitness accounts I can say I drank my 1/3 and we all left for the union. Now this evening I decided to heed my parents words “don’t mix your drinks”, so I didn’t. What I did do was order double Jameson’s every 15-30 minutes and quickly became more and more lamp-posted as time went on. I came home and, according to video footage I’ve seen, proceeded to down a full (probably 300ml) glass of straight whiskey. I did. I then rushed over to the sink and despite the cheers of my mates and various cheeky insults, I held it in. “Fucking sorted” I thinks and then went upstairs to fetch my bass guitar to serenade my companions for the evening.

Did I fuck.

What happened was I went upstairs and got my guitar and amp, wedged my door open with a chair for “easy” (you’ll see) access later, and went back to the kitchen to set it up. I then straight away walked too far, pulled the amp off the side, smashed it on the floor and snapped the cable. This pissed me right off so in my state I stumbled back upstairs and proceeded to kick my chair for a good 5 minutes, hoping it would miraculously shift and I’d be presented with an easy route into my room. No. My mate who video’d it had to come and shift it for me and then proceeded to put me to bed.

I wake up to Saigon circa 1975. My room is destroyed, my chair is in pieces everywhere and my phone is in a similar state. I looked up and found sick on the ceiling; I say again there was SICK, on the CEILING. What happened the previous night was I had been angry about the amp issue and had then gone into my room and destroyed 95% of its contents. The furniture, my work, my possessions from home were pretty much massacred, and to top it off there was sick on at least 5 of the 6 faces of the cube that was my room, one of which was the ceiling. That must have been some projectile considering I was laying down! Since then, every time I touch the stuff it ends similarly, short outbursts of violence with a big spew session afterwards.

Whiskey = evil

Apologies for length? That is a negative.
(Captain Sensible "I'll be your animal in a yellow plastic bin", Sat 9 Jan 2010, 1:12, Reply)