Saturday, April 11, 2009


I like a drink as much as the next person (possibly a little more if it's rose flavoured liquer), but whilst I can get "quite pissed", I never seem to cross that boundary into utterly drunk.

I can only recall two occasions when alcohol has been the likely cause of being sick, only one occasion when I had a hangover (hideous experience - I mean really why would you drink if that happened everytime?), never committed grand misdemeanours whilst under the influence (snogging unsuitable blokes doesn't count right?) and I don't think I've ever lost time or been unable to remember parts of the night before (though admittedly by definition one can never be totally sure...let's just say I've never been surprised by the recollections of friends, been unaccountably sacked after a work do or been surprised by unexpected photos on the internet, that kind of thing...).

I partly suspect this is because the control freak in my recoils in horror at the very prospect, but whatever the reason, the only thing I find beyond "quite pissed" is sleep.

There are advantages (continued employment) and disadvantages (never can truly drink to forget) to this.

For my drinking compadres there are also advantages (someone who can function sufficiently to hail a cab) and disadvantages (total recall of what *you* did as well).

So should you ever go drinking with me (say to a little pub in Didsbury) and buy me doubles that were in fact triples (maybe vodka) whilst simultaneously downing copious amounts of booze yourself (maybe beer), best to remember that whilst I may get quite pissed, you may get even worse and come the next time me meet only one of us may remember what was disclosed.

And then you'll be left trying to decide is 1iz:

a) open minded and forgiving, but still evil enough to keep alluding to the latest shameful disclosure from your mispent life,
b) just plain evil and happy to allude to some disclosure that may never have actually happened.

In this pantomime we call life, you may never know...

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