Good times...
When I was still in school and too young to work behind a bar, I took one of the only two jobs avaliable to me in our village - waitor in the village hotel (the other being paper boy, and I was far too fucking lazy).

Made friends with 2 total nutters, Murray and Dave. These boys were brilliant. Used to play drinking games if it was quiet - one of them involved assigning different spirits to numbers 1 to 6, then rolling a dice and seeing what you would have to take a shot of. Also played 'Who can down the most minging cocktail' which should be self-explanitory. I particularly remember a foul concoction of advocaat, vodka, gin and white wine.

Usually these on-the-job drinking sessions were followed by a flour fight. We'd run through the kitchens, fucking legless, chucking handfulls of flour at each other's black trousers. I always got the funniest looks when I went out to serve the customers. I regularly took unauthorised breaks to smoke a cig, or sometimes a cheeky joint, out the fire door. We stole food, ashtrays, cigars, and shitloads of drink. The night always ended with us in the swing park, enjoying our stolen bottle of vodka.

In the end, I did get fired - for wearing training shoes to work! Fucking training shoes! After everything that had happened, it was a bit of an anticlimax.

Haven't spoken to Murray or Dave in a while, but I can safely say they were the greatest workmates I've ever had.

Here's to you, lads
(Pavlov's Frog figures no-one really reads sigs anyway, Wed 15 Aug 2007, 0:08, Reply)