Target Practice required
I'm now a third year Uni student so the frequency curve of chunder action has smoothed out somewhat in recent years. However, this was not always the case.

During my gap year I was a bar man serving sub-standard beer to sub-standard people (pikey fucknuts). When I went off to start my illustrious university education the staff hosted a leaving do for me and we preceded to conduct a tour of duty around the wanky shit hole that is Faversham (Kent).

Stopping off for a curry, wine was ordered (3 bottles of white, 3 bottles of red) until it transpired that no-one apart from Sir Chodesworth himself drank red. Well, for all the Uni students, I manned up and ploughed through the vast majority of this. After a few pints was pretty proud of this effort and was glowing away when I was presented with a bucket full of stereotypical student items i.e. Pot Noodle etc...

Much to my dismay we then went to the local stab hut that is Wetherspoons and, rather than being glassed, I was given a fair bit of rum.

I would love to tell you all what happened then but I simply don't remember....

I got home at some o'clock in the morning and only remembering waking after probably an hours drunken oblivion, feeling the tell tale signs that my body was eager to witness a resurrection of asformentioned curry. I knew I wouldn't make it downstairs in time so frantically scanned the room for a suitable bunder bucket. In my saturated state I, for some reason, disregarded the handy bedside bucket provided by generous collegues. Instead my brain function went vaugely like this:

"Shit, can't vom on the carpet, deep pile and all, fucker to clean, gonna smell like rancid bum rubbish. Where to go, Fuck Fuck Fuck!! Ah HA! *On spying a single sheet of A4 paper under my desk* This is the best place in entire history to unleash a torrent of vile putrifaction!"

Needless to say this logic was slightly flawed, as you may have guessed. It went everywhere, missed most of the apparently infinately absorbent paper and lodged itself inside the carpet. The only bit of my logic that had come credability was that it stank like bear shit mixed with rotting bacon.

The fucking bucket would have been better. Fucksocks.
(Sir David Von Chodesworth can't find any audiobook transcripts, Mon 11 Jan 2010, 11:34, Reply)