Return of THE FEAR!

[astfgyl]

Jesus what a trip

[StoutAndAle]

Lad that I work with had to go to his aunt's funeral last Wednesday. Took a half day for it.

Didn't show up in work until 1145hrs the next day. All he was fit for was to sit down in dark corners of the warehouse and eat crisps & breakfast rolls.

I didn't actually see him until about 1530hrs. He was sitting on a kickstool outside my office near the tool room with a half-mangled hot chicken roll in his paw.

"Alright, Tommer?"

No response. Just a look.

"Must've been some session for the old girl, was it?" I ask.

"If I talk. I'll puke."

"Christ..... em... you didn't drive in this morning, did you?" the fumes of drink hitting me like the stench of jet-fuel in a Ryanair cabin.

"No... hunngh... my... wiiiiiife drove me in. Oh, sweet Christ. I had to go to the cafe up the road for 25 minutes in case I started crying. Sweet Christ, I'm dying."

"Do you need a lift home or anything?"

"Can't talk... hunnnnngh. I'm.... fine."

So I went into my office.

A few minutes later I look out my window and I can see two of my other workmates standing - just staring across the car park.

I pop the head out and ask them what's going on.

"This is Tommer's 5th attempt to get the pallet loaded onto the curtain-sider"

There he is, lads - trying to load a newly built machine worth €250k onto a truck.

The truck driver comes running across the car park. "Get him THE FUCK off the forks! He's drunk or something!"

"The other fella with the forklift is out long-term sick. We only have Tommer."

By this time nearly all 30-odd people are out in the car park cheering him on. It's like Italia '90. A carnival atmosphere.

"G'wan Tommer, yeh fuckin' mad thing yeh!"

Huge cheer when he loads the truck. Tommer gives us a wave.

By Christ, lads. I've seen "Rocky" and "The Karate Kid" but this topped it.

Next day - Friday - I walk into the canteen. Tommer is in there. Green.

"You're still dying?" I ask him.

"No" he shakes his head "went for a cure last night. Got a bit carried away. Didn't leave til closing time nearly."





Tommer is 58 years old by the way.

[Caomhaoin]

Some man 😂😂

[Hellyeah]

Great story. Cheers.

[Mooncat]

Had one when I was a student where me and my mate lived in Belfast and would get wrecked on vodka and coke before heading out. One night we figured we could get even more wrecked if we used alcopop as the mixer, Smirnoff Ice, WKD and the like. This worked like rocket fuel (especially for being only 19 or so), and so we stagger on over to the Student's Union to meet a big crowd of other students. I vaguely remember just about getting in as the bouncers weren't warming to our already shit-faced demeanor. I also vaguely remember sitting at a table with about 15 other students, people who were more acquaintances than friends at that point.

It's here that I mentally check out for the evening.

This one is a fear that repeated on me for weeks, because I'd continually run into the people from the table one-by-one and get to hear stories from that night about the awful glue I talked in their ears and the shit I got up to. At one point one of the guys was slagging saying I'd been trying to come onto some awful munter all night and I thought he was just winding me up because he knew I was blackout drunk and couldn't remember anything. Sure enough he pulls out a photo (like, an actual photo, this was before camera phones. Cunt had a disposable and had actually gotten it developed...) and there I am clearly out to lunch leching onto the love child of the Honey Monster and that one orc in lord of the rings whose face looks like a plate of mashed potatoes. I wonder if he kept it for future potential blackmail purposes.

Then someone else told me was I got thrown out by several bouncers after acting the wanker, pretending to challenge them to a fight and then running away shouting, "I AM ZANGIEF!" at the top of my lungs (we'd been playing Street Fighter earlier in the day at the house). Supposedly they took it in good humour because it was just so ridiculous, which is lucky because I probably avoided a hiding.

But the cherry on top to cap it all off...

I woke up the next morning, facedown in a pool of vomit, all beginning to dry into the side of my beard and hair, utterly wrecked beyond belief. After I've lain there for a few minutes trying to come back to reality I realize my bags are around my ankles. I look back and see a huge shit on my bedroom floor. I realize that I've came in blackout to my room and simply undid the troos, squatted right there in the middle of the floor and taken a shit, and then face-planted forward and passed out, then probably vomited in my sleep. Worst of all though, my bedroom door was open. I lived in a student house in the holy lands with my mate and 5 other strangers, so anyone that walked past my bedroom would have seen me there face-planted in the vomit, with the shit and the bags around my ankles. Didn't last long in that house.

[Carnage]

Jesus!!!     

[Caomhaoin]

Went to Cape Clear when I was 18 or 19 for New Years with a few pals from college. Two of our crew missed the bus from Cork to Baltimore (the one not involved in this story went on at me for weeks for not 'holding the bus')

We got to the island about 11 or 12, straight down to the boozer, few pints and then up to the hostel to relax for a few hours before the big steam. These other two decided to go to the early house as they had a three hour wait for the next bus. They then consumed colosal amounts of booze on the bus and the boat and essentially fell on to the pier, roaring and shouting 'you didn't hold the bus'! etc.

One of them (he's lucky I didn't tell this story at his wedding when I was his best man, his mother is elderly so I let him off) continued to act the absolute prick in the pub, taking his shoes off and putting his feet on the table, slobbering over middle aged women and roasting the ear off of all and sundry. Then 'poof', he just vanished.

Any of ye have been on that island will know it's not at all lit at night, and after searching the pub worry set in, as he was that demented any stroll he might if taken carried a high risk of death. Walked the road between the pub and the hostel, no sign of him anywhere. Walked back to where we came from fairly shitting it when as we approach the pub, there is the owners son holding up the bould Noel who is wobbling and continuing to garble incomprehensible shite. So yer man goes to me

'Is this eejit with you'?

'Yeah, why'?

'Jesus Christ he's nearly after giving my granny a heart attack'

'He what'?

'He's after wandering in behind the bar and gone upstairs into our living room and sat himself down beside her on the couch talking shite and asking for the remote'

'Sorry about that'

'He's lucky the guard left at 8, she's fucking hysterical'

I was puking my ring up on the boat back the next day and him like Vasco de Gama, can in hand shouting 'land ho lads' with no visible hangover at all.

[Ollkiller]

"Land ho lads"      That's just perfect.

[StoutAndAle]

Had one when I was a student where me and my mate lived in Belfast and would get wrecked on vodka and coke before heading out...

... Didn't last long in that house.

Jesus Christ! That is class - as a story, I mean. Probably traumatic to have lived it! 

[Mooncat]

Had one when I was a student where me and my mate lived in Belfast and would get wrecked on vodka and coke before heading out...

... Didn't last long in that house.

Jesus Christ! That is class - as a story, I mean. Probably traumatic to have lived it! 

Most of it I just look back on as drunken dumbassery and all you can do is laugh, but the vomiting while passed out part did genuinely scare me at the time. If I'd passed out on my back instead things could have turned out very differently...


One other quick one: I was playing the Whiplash festival in Sligo, which is a good 5hrs on the bus from Belfast (none of us drove at the time). We were playing our night and leaving the next morning because some of us had to get back for work. We arrive and obviously hit the drink, watch the bands, play, have a great time, then head back to an after party somewhere with several of the bands. One of them, can't remember the name but think they had Outlaw in the title, were pouring drinks that were essentially a pint of vodka with a splash of coke for colouring. I don't remember much about that night except I got utterly wrecked, but had a good time and nothing untoward happened.

Cue the bus the next day and I'm fucking spewing every few minutes. One of those hangovers where you just can't stop heaving and throwing up. The other guys have to load my equipment on the bus for me because I can barely function, and they tell me I'm a mixture of pure white and green. So I shuffle onto this bus and sit down, the bandmates all take care to sit several seats away from me, and in the time it takes me to get from the front of the bus to my seat I've already thrown up in a plastic bag I'm holding twice.

I'm already absolutely dreading this bus ride home, but then five girls, all dolled up and looking lovely, get on the bus and two sit in front of me, one beside me, and two behind. I've been boxed in by these hot girls, who are now all turned around towards each other talking. Not only am I trying to hold this bag full of sick under the seat where they can't see, I'm also trying not to throw up any further, imagining the melodramatic shrieks of some teenage girls if I do my exorcist impression. Cue an hours-long bus journey of me twisted into a backbreaking, awkward position, trying to hide my bag of sick out of sight, trying not to throw up, and trying my best to disguise my little half heaves as I desperately try and keep it down, all the while my bandmates are in stitches any time I make eye contact with one of them and they see the purest picture of misery on my face. It was one of the toughest endurance tests I've ever had to face going that long while actively trying to stay on top of the situation, but I made it! I was reminded of this story because yesterday I went through a full day of work hanging out my arse for the first time in years, so it brought me back a little bit 

[StoutAndAle]

The "Nectar Of The Gods" discussion about whiskey reminded me of this little gem.

My brother and a few of his buddies were on a stag in the Canaries several years ago.

Getting bored with the bars in the hotel they decided to go to a place called Hawaii 5-0 American Bar - that's the full name. It was a theme bar based on... never mind - you all know what sort of bar this was.

They got there and bottles of San Miguel were €1 - Jack Daniels and Pepsi was €1.50. I mention the mixer only because I said to the brother;

"How come it wasn't Jack and Coke?"

"You could get a Jack and Coke but it was €2.50."

Anyway - a good time was had by all and they headed back to the hotel at about 0200hrs.

To a man - scuttered.

In this state the very best thing to do is to all decide to do canonballs one by one into the still lit but unattended, very much out-of-bounds swimming pool.

So the brother takes his wallet and phone out of his pocket, runs hard at the pool - "Geronimoooooooo!".

Next up his buddy Jimmy G. "Fuuuuuuuuuuck it!"

Next up Mad Maxer - splash.

They start chanting the "Hawaii 5-0" theme tune.

"Deh deh dehdeh deeeeeeh dehhhhhh!"

Another one of the lads in.

All this noisy revelry has led to two members of hotel staff appearing.

"Senors! Los pool is not open! SENORS!"

Timmy - the groom-to-be is up next - there is no way that he's not going to go. Not when the rest of the lads are in the pool now chanting his name to the tune of the "Hawaii 5-0" theme tune.

He starts off his run only to be tackled by the bigger of the two hotel employees.

"Fuck sake! Get off me! I'm only goin' doin' a fuckin' cannonball!" he protests.

The hotel lad is hanging on but he's no match for a Norrie sheet-metal worker who is fuelled up on San Miguel and Jack & Cok....Pepsi.

Timmy breaks free from the first lad, gets back to his feet and starts on his mission to do the canonball. The second hotel employee is smaller but wily - he forces Timmy into a sideways Axl Rose-like crab run.

Timmy slips the lad a dummy and sets on around the perimeter of the pool.

With the Canary lad nowhere close to gaining on him, Timmy nears the edge and prepares himself for victory.

The two hotel staff members are screaming "NO SENOR! NO!"

Timmy gives his opponents the finger, shouts "REBEL ARMY!", points to the lads at the other end and dives into the pool.

SPLASH!

You will note that I used the phrase "other end" there. This is because Timmy in his excitement/drunkenness has run to the far end of the pool - heretofore known as the shallow end.

He went in, head first proceeding first skull himself on the forehead and then scraping his front teeth off the pool's cement floor.

Timmy didn't drink for the rest of the trip.

[91/30]

He was lucky he wasn't killed, a good few have become paraplegic diving head first in to the sea and hit sandbanks instead of deep water.

Got that music theme in my head now but no harm it's a brilliant tune

[Slaughterday]

Fucking hell  I'd say Timmy's missus removed the rest of his teeth when he got home.

[Black Shepherd Carnage]

Fuuuuck! That's the kind of shit I'm always surprised, in retrospect, didn't happen to me more often on nights that would start with a shoulder of Jameson before even heading out 

[StoutAndAle]

Fucking hell  I'd say Timmy's missus removed the rest of his teeth when he got home.

Ah, he's a hard case - that lad.

He was on his way to a fancy dress party one summer's Friday evening down Adelaide St. Fully dressed in his outfit - a carrot (complete with orange tights and spray painted sneakers).

He'd had a few cheeky cans on his way down Shandon St. A couple of lads wearing Munster jerseys on the same street were on their way into town and started to kick him in the hole and try to knock him over.

Timmy headbutted one of them and burst the fella's face wide open. He clocked another lad with his bag of cans. The cops arrived on the scene to find the headbuttee sitting on the pavement roaring.

"Muh fuddin' nodes id brukken over dat cundh dere" through streams of blood and snot. The lad who got the slap of the bag of cans had a caulifower ear and was howling about a broken tooth.

And Timmy The Carrot screaming blue murder at the two of them for keeping him late for his party.

The cops decided to arrest the lot of them but discovered that they couldn't get Timmy into the back of the squad car whilst in costume.

"You'll have to take off the costume, lad." said one of the guards.

"I'm balls naked under it, kid." replied Timmy.

The cop called for a paddywagon.

"Suspect won't fit in the vehicle... he's dressed as a carrot... a carrot...... yes."

They handcuffed Timmy and made him walk to the Bridewell which was the nearest station (5 mins).

When they got there, the desk sergeant looked up and without missing a beat said "Ah, Timmy... what is it this time?"

They left him go less than two hours later.