The most pissed you have been .Pray tell

[grazywalker]

Come on .That night ...fuck me I was flying .Never talked about it

share ..

[col06]

i once walked into a lamppost i so was pissed i didn't know when i woke up i was in hospital :eek:

[grazywalker]

Nice Col

[Remmie]

18th. All the fit birds from A level there. I drink 2 thirds of a litre of tequila and 4 stellars in about 45 minutes. Take shirt off. Get half a bottle of vodka fed to me. Wake up face down in my own vomit and piss with welcome mat and some lino wrapped round me and still hammered.

[rondeco]

Had a full blown argument with a fireplace over the ignorance of people towards genius.

[Cosmos]

Glastonbury as a youth. I imbibed a bottle of scotch, half a crate of stella and various other items of nefarious effect with my brother and some mates. Eventually we had to throw away our tent because is was too obvious and they would be able to spot us, the on site police were less than interested when we informed them that we were being chased by non-descript villians. So my brother rang my dad and told him, 'we're in Glastonbury, we're in trouble, come and get us' and hung up. He found us at the side of a road wearing those drug casualty foil blankets.

[Paul]

Christmas Eve when I was about 19/20: I had a really fluey cold, but the traditional Christmas Eve piss up was not being missed. Having dosed up on paracetemol throughout the day (had 8 tablets in total), I did a shift at McDonald's. I was on the close shift so everyone else was already in the alehouse when I went in at about 7pm (this was under the old licencing laws when you were out by 6 if you wanted to have a sesh). Realising I had to work quickly, I downed a triple rum and coke and necked a couple of pints in the first 20 minutes or so. We ended up in the Waterloo down town (ace, rough arse alehouse) with about 40 of us taking over the place.

 

I don't remember anything after about 9pm except sitting on my mum's knee with her sat on the toilet at home crying her eyes out. Apparently I'd come in and trashed the kitchen, and she'd come down to find me literally standing in the toilet with blood and puke down my front. I then apparently puked up more blood before she cleaned me up and put me to bed. I had a very bad hangover for the next two days.

 

Two other ale crimes: staying at sister-in-laws after a massive village night out (anyone who's ever lived in a village will have alarm bells ringing at those words). Woke up bollocko, sans bins and couldn't even find my clothes. I followed the trail of clothing downstairs and eventually found my glasses in the downstairs toilet that was literally covered from floor to ceiling in puke. It must have been mine, but I had no recollection of it happening whatsoever. I went to clean it up and slipped in the massive puddle of piss the dog had done on the kitchen floor due to noone being up to let him out. Not a great moment.

 

A mate of Mrs Paul's was off to live in the States for a year and had a big send off. I necked a bottle of rum on the way, arrived at the party in Manchester, managed two bottles of beer and had to be taken home (to another mate's house where we were staying) by about 9.30. I made the car stop for me to have a piss on the way (in the middle of Fallowfield outside a shop - I wasn't even discreet) and then headed off again. Panic then set in as I realised I wasn't wearing my glasses. We went back to the site of the piss crime and had about ten strangers help me look for them.

 

Eventually I was feeling rough and got back in the car leaving the search to Mrs Paul and her mate. As I flopped back into the seat, I felt something strangely familiar under my hand. Furtively I put my bins back on and loudly claimed to have found them in the gutter by the car. I spent the next day in bed and the following day, Mrs Paul and I went on our first holiday together to Turkey. My throat was so fucked from puking that I couldn't taste any food for three days.

 

I almost never drink to get pissed and from the above, you can probably see why.

[Roast Beef]

I punched a hole in the wall whilst smiling. Count your drinks kiddies.

[melons]

bloody hell im lame compared to Paul

 

worst, between teh back door of the pub and my back door was a car park.... thats it, all we ever had to do was get from the pub to my house.... knowing home wasnt far we never worried about getting there, being single meant that everyone also used to pile back at mine...

 

not this night, got rat arsed, everyone came back to mine for a jump on the trampoline (apparently) and left... i had gone back the pub with my mate for fuck knows what stayed for a few more while everyone was still at mine and thats the last thing i remember, woke up in bed the next morning bollock naked, i always sleep in a nightie or pj's so this was rather odd, then realising i was on the end of my bed i stayed there trying to listen for breathing... alls quiet, i was absolutely shitting myself in case i had done one of these horrors of bringing someone home not remembering and not having a clue who the fuck they where. after about 5 min i turn around, thank fuck, no one there, i get up grab my bath robe and fall back on my arse...still rather drunk..... i get up stumble around the house, my clothes are everywhere, find my phone call my mate... no, came home alone, she left me on the couch and locked the door on her way out... thank fuck.

 

all other times we lived in a small village next to a small town, used to just fall asleep on the bench while my mates fucked off to the rugby club... ah, one time after one of them episodes no taxi was available so we we decides to walk home, 6 miles. we pass a hotel, 2 of us are straggling way behind the others singing, as you do... blo0ody phonics and trees... anyway lads are out asking for a flash, my foster sister (total babe, huge tits) decided to do the honours... gave them a jiggle and all that, they suddenly said they would be down, we shit... took off our shoes and legged it, soon shortened the distance and caught us up to the others....

[She Knows It]

I haven't got falling down drunk for years now. It's actually quite uncomfortable thinking about some of the states I used to get myself in.

 

There was one time I'd been out all day and night drinking vodka with a load of gay mates, and we ended up drinking loads of Goldschlager and other rancid shots in the Lisbon. I felt really ill and went outside and I was sitting on the pavement and this gorgeous girl came out and sat next to me and we had a little chat (as much of a chat as I was capable of), and I have a vague mortifying memory of me trying to kiss her. She told me she really fancied me but she wasn't going to get off with me because I wasn't really gay, and I said "Oh I am. I'm dead gay, me". What made it worse was that a couple of my mates had come out to check on me, and witnessed me getting the knockback, and were laughing hysterically. "I'm dead gay, me" became a bit of a catchphrase amongst them for a while.

[theRedHorse]

Ummm....

 

So many times... where do i begin...?

 

 

Ummm....

[Paul]

Ummm....

 

So many times... where do i begin...?

 

 

Ummm....

 

Really? I thought you were Muslim. Or is this a joke? Or did you convert because of too many agonising hangovers?

[chrisbonnie]

i beat the lot of you light weights, i was so drunk, i simpy, cannot remember :yes:

[Anny Road]

I haven't got falling down drunk for years now. It's actually quite uncomfortable thinking about some of the states I used to get myself in.

 

There was one time I'd been out all day and night drinking vodka with a load of gay mates, and we ended up drinking loads of Goldschlager and other rancid shots in the Lisbon. I felt really ill and went outside and I was sitting on the pavement and this gorgeous girl came out and sat next to me and we had a little chat (as much of a chat as I was capable of), and I have a vague mortifying memory of me trying to kiss her. She told me she really fancied me but she wasn't going to get off with me because I wasn't really gay, and I said "Oh I am. I'm dead gay, me". What made it worse was that a couple of my mates had come out to check on me, and witnessed me getting the knockback, and were laughing hysterically. "I'm dead gay, me" became a bit of a catchphrase amongst them for a while.

 

Semi on.

[Chuck Fadanoid]

At an 18th a few years ago. Drank pints consistantly for about 5 hours and then realised that I can and never will be able to drink Jack Daniels, never mind to two full glasses of the shit at last orders.

 

Got home, vomited, fell asleep, woke up a few hours later to go to Tottenham away, had a full breakfast, vomited, near fell asleep in the match, Garcia scored and we won 1 - 0.

[Kopite]

Liverpool Poly SU circa-June 1992, the last night of that year.

 

Basically you paid £10 to get in and the bar was FREE.

 

I downed about 4 Baileys and Ice, 4 Vodka's and Coke, 4 pints of Guinness and 4 bottles of Bud in the space of 2 hours. I was bladdered.

 

The last thing I remember was chatting up this girl was awesome norks (and getting on like a house on fire). Then I experienced "missing time" (but without the Grey Aliens).

 

I woke up 3 hours later. I'm outside the Haigh lying prostrate in my own vomit on the disabled ramp with the security lads throwing buckets of cold water on me.

 

Somehow I walked back to the halls on Scotland Road, utterly w*nkered in shorts and t-shirt. My journey took in the City Centre and along Netherfield Road, all this at 2am in the morning.

 

I rule.

[WaltonRed]

Benidorm 2000. 6 17 year old lads, alone for the 1st time.

 

One night I sot split from my mates and re-appeared at the hotel 3 hours later. To this day I still dont know were I went or what I did in those mystical 3 hours.

 

Also, fancy dress party at a mates. I was dressed as an RAF pilot, knocked it in the entry walked back in and denied id been sick only to realise it was all down my top. I then just got off and legged it for a cab out of shame.

 

I'm a disgrace at times, I shudder thinking about it.

[Kopite]

I haven't got falling down drunk for years now. It's actually quite uncomfortable thinking about some of the states I used to get myself in.

 

There was one time I'd been out all day and night drinking vodka with a load of gay mates, and we ended up drinking loads of Goldschlager and other rancid shots in the Lisbon. I felt really ill and went outside and I was sitting on the pavement and this gorgeous girl came out and sat next to me and we had a little chat (as much of a chat as I was capable of), and I have a vague mortifying memory of me trying to kiss her. She told me she really fancied me but she wasn't going to get off with me because I wasn't really gay, and I said "Oh I am. I'm dead gay, me". What made it worse was that a couple of my mates had come out to check on me, and witnessed me getting the knockback, and were laughing hysterically. "I'm dead gay, me" became a bit of a catchphrase amongst them for a while.

 

Liz, you roole.

 

I remember getting eyed up by this stunner (female) in the Praque 5 on Canal Street. My mates girlfriend comes over and says "do you realise that girl over there is giving you the eye?"

 

"Oh yes."

 

Dutch courage cuts in and I go over. After about 5 mins she tells me she's a "lezzer" from Burnley and her girlfriend was getting her a drink.

 

I'm a but tipsy so all I can think of is "THREESOME".

 

Burnley has a top Gay scene apparently.

[She Knows It]

*makes mental note never to get pissed in Burnley*

[Kopite]

*makes mental note never to get pissed in Burnley*

 

Why would you ever go to Burnley?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(If you do, take a camera).

[RoboRiise]

Glastonbury as a youth. I imbibed a bottle of scotch, half a crate of stella and various other items of nefarious effect with my brother and some mates. Eventually we had to throw away our tent because is was too obvious and they would be able to spot us, the on site police were less than interested when we informed them that we were being chased by non-descript villians. So my brother rang my dad and told him, 'we're in Glastonbury, we're in trouble, come and get us' and hung up. He found us at the side of a road wearing those drug casualty foil blankets.

 

Fucking hell! Phoenix Festival, 1993. Substitute vodka for the whisky, Spar own-brand export lager for the Stella (due to the old quality/quantity debate) add a liberal dosing of the aforesaid items of nefarious effect, all of which the gentleman in your avatar would be intimately familiar with, stir vigorously. I was ripped to the tits and no mistake.

 

When I look back on it, me and my mate stumbling into the on-site police compound at 4.30am after 48 solid hours of debauchery, clearly frazzled to the point of insensibility, then trying to explain that we were being followed around the campsite by "them" for reasons that I could not begin to articulate wasn't the wisest move I have ever made. Especially since the place was rife with police dogs and my pockets were stuffed with a veritable cornucopia of narcotics, sufficient to put Doherty and Winehouse into a coma for at least a month.

 

The coppers were amazingly laid back about the whole thing, didn't even attempt to search or question us and instead drove us around the campsite for quite some time in a van until we spotted our mates, at which point they droppped us off and left us to it. Pretty sound stuff from the boys in blue really. I did manage to lose my wallet and a large quantity of cannabis though, quite possibly in the back of the van...

[theRedHorse]

Really? I thought you were Muslim. Or is this a joke? Or did you convert because of too many agonising hangovers?

 

Yes.

[RedBrian84]

Two seperate occasions. A few years back in concert square in town I managed to pull down one of them metal barriers on my arm (about two fucking inches from crushing my head!!!) because I was so smashed; ended up in A+E the next day.

 

Last week, I went out with one of my good mates and managed to drink an entire bottle of Jack before leaving her house, and then managed to fall asleep in her porch at 4 in the morning. It's strange waking up surrounded by shoes.

[Dark Poet]

A Christmas party at the picture house where I used to work I'd made merry with the free booze all night and, with no way of getting home, managed to secure an invite back to a girl's house where her best mate was also staying. Trouble was her parents were devout Catholics and wouldn't allow her to have any boys in the house so I was offered the back seat of their brand new car to sleep in. The three of us stayed in the car for a bit listening to music while I got stuck into the bottle of Cinzano I'd taken with me (y'know because I felt I hadn't drunk enough by that stage). Eventually I'd drunk myself into unconsciousness and they girls left me and went inside to bed.

 

About 6 am in the morning the girl's mum woke up and saw me half hanging out of the back door covered in puke and piss wet through from the rain. She ran outside and thinking I was dead, or, at least on the verge of it, started to scream for her husband. Queue massive row between parents and daughter. Thankfully, because they were Christians they rather charitabley drove me home. However, on exiting the car, I realised I'd told them to take me to the house I'd left about 5 years previously. Not having the courage to get back in the car, I thanked them for the lift and staggered home, covered in vom, passing people on their way to work who gave me a wide birth.

 

Another occasion was New Year's Eve about 1994. After the club we'd been in closed a group of us were trying to get taxi's back to where we were staying. I drew the short straw and was left behind as there wasn't room for all of us in the cabs we'd managed to get. So I hung around in town waiting for another one while starting on a bottle of JD I'd got for the party.

 

Eventually I made it back to the house having finished off most of the bottle and started demanding someone make me some chips smothered in mayo. However, within a few minutes I'd collapsed on the couch. My mates woke me up wafting a plate of chips n mayo under my nose, which I threw up on and promptly fell back to sleep.

 

A little later the brother of the girl whose house we were staying in came home and woke me up when he turned the TV on. I realised I badly needed a piss and wishing the brother a happy new year stumbled upstairs only to find the bog was locked. I decided I'd wait and went into the nearest bedroom and lay down on the bed for a bit. My bladder had other ideas though and demanded relief so I got up, opened a cupboard door, dropped my kecks and slashed in the wardrobe, which woke the brother's fiance who'd be happily sleeping in the bed. In the darkened room, with a strange man with his trolleys round his ankles and his old chap out, she screamed. Queue her brother's footsteps pounding up the stairs and my furious attempts to stop pissing and pull my jeans up so at least I'd only be accused of being a pissed idiot as opposed to being someone who is into golden showers and voyeur and a pissed up idiot. Suffice to say the brother wasn't best pleased I was in his bedroom with his semi-naked and hysterical fiance so he man handled me out of the front door and, as we'd earlier removed our footwear upon entering the house, threw a pair of Doc Martins at me before slamming the door. I have size 11 feet and there was no way I was getting the pair of size 8 DMs he'd thrown me. So, I stupidly knocked on the door trying and succeeding to look pathetic, handed back the midget's boots to the super nova in waiting that was the brother and described my boots "Mine are the ones with the Nike swoosh painted on the side". I put my boots on in the middle of the front garden where he'd thrown them and started walking home. I got about 50 yards down the road when I heard the brother shouting at me and running up looking a tad angry. Apparently he'd just discovered his new wardrobe-come-toilet and was ready to lamp me. Fortunately, I looked so pathetic and sorry for myself, he didn't give me punch I richly deserved and let me walk on home. As I trudged the several miles back to my house, I passed the time by fishing out the chips covered in mayo and some other strange sauce that my mates had put in every pocket of my jeans and coat.

[Section_31]

Fuck knows, there's been a few times, one time I fell over on my own sick and knocked my tooth out and then fell asleep in the road.

 

The 'best' though was six months after that, I was with a group of mates in Spoons in Warrington, we'd been playing drinking games back at some birds house all day and I was fucked.

 

At one point I went outside for a breather and started feeling dizzy, I felt propper scared (I was thinking back to the previous time when I'd chipped my tooth and fell asleep in the road - I'd been feeling that vulnerable at the time that I'd wanted my mum to pick me up).

 

So then for some reason I then went around the back of spoons and started sifting through the bottle bins shouting "Mum!" "Mum!" "Where the FUCK'S ME MUM!!!"

 

Soon after that a large gathering of bouncers assembled at the end of the alleyway saying stuff like "fucking hell" and "have you seen this?"

 

I then walked off and tried to get into a cue for a bar but the bouncers just went to me mate "No fucking chance mate!"

 

So we managed to blag our way into an R&B club and i spent the night in the middle of the dancefloor spinning my arms aroung like a helicoptor while surrounded by heavily armed members of the Gooch Close gange - they all fucked off sharpish though, was funny as fuck.