My best chunder ever.
Many years ago, when I was still a spotty-faced scruffy urchin, my friends and I performed our usual stop off in Somerfield on the way home from school. We'd normally buy a bag of crisps and a can of Coke and torment the security guard, who insisted on following us like a poorly-trained overweight ninja, hiding beneath spotlights and behind little old ladies.
Once, however, we discovered a job lot of reduced jam donuts. I did what any 14 year old would do and bought a dozen, with a bottle of Dr Pepper to wash them down. I managed to eat 9 of them, saving the other 3 for later.
We continued on our way, and before long my friend was telling us a story about a wet dream (I forget the exact details, something to do with throwing his crispy underpants at the cat). I found this so damn hilarious that I sat on the curb and laughed and laughed and laughed and, eventually, threw my guts up.
Then I laughed some more.
Then I threw my guts up again.
To this day I remember this fondly, simply because it was the best tasting vomit ever. 9 jam donuts and half a litre of Dr Pepper had barely settled in my stomach before I called them up again, and they tasted like sweet, sugary mana from heaven, proving that heaven is slightly smeared in bile. Half a lifetime later, I still plan to recreate the moment if I'm ever hungover around donuts.
(Paolo Nutini's Bikini Better than Frederick Fleet's optometrist, Tue 12 Jan 2010, 13:36, Reply)