Works Christmas Nights out

[lifetime fan]

Can't it be both?

 

Most likely.

[lifetime fan]

Our work break-up which usually happens on the 23rd is a very simple affair- beers, barbeque and a bit of cricket in the large grass area behind the offices. This runs from 2-5pm . Then the company social club that a few of us run puts money over the bar for anyone who wants to hit the pub later, until closing time. Most people start the day between 6-9am, depending on their shift. This day is usually reserved for a proper clean of their areas and most break around 12pm and go home to get ready for the party. 

 

This is where it is great for me. Being on an afternoon/evening shift of 2pm-12am, my official start time is the same time as the work party....meaning I get paid a full day to turn up and eat free food and drink free alcohol for 10 hours! Winning. 

 

Enjoy it mate, I love the idea of playing cricket at a works christmas do.

[Champ]

Nope.

Its not like you

[Harry Squatter]

Our work break-up which usually happens on the 23rd is a very simple affair- beers, barbeque and a bit of cricket in the large grass area behind the offices. This runs from 2-5pm . Then the company social club that a few of us run puts money over the bar for anyone who wants to hit the pub later, until closing time. Most people start the day between 6-9am, depending on their shift. This day is usually reserved for a proper clean of their areas and most break around 12pm and go home to get ready for the party.

 

This is where it is great for me. Being on an afternoon/evening shift of 2pm-12am, my official start time is the same time as the work party....meaning I get paid a full day to turn up and eat free food and drink free alcohol for 10 hours! Winning.

It might just be me but I think that this sounds a lot better than a pre booked overpriced crap meal followed by trying for ages to get served in a pub then wandering to various others in the pissing rain and freezing cold.

[Rick Sanchez C-137]

It might just be me but I think that this sounds a lot better than a pre booked overpriced crap meal followed by trying for ages to get served in a pub then wandering to various others in the pissing rain and freezing cold.

 

It's not

[lifetime fan]

It's not

This.

[lifetime fan]

Its not like you

Plans are in progress.

[A_S]

It might just be me but I think that this sounds a lot better than a pre booked overpriced crap meal followed by trying for ages to get served in a pub then wandering to various others in the pissing rain and freezing cold.

 

As a follow up to the Xmas party, the social club also have a very informal marquee set up at the picnic horse races in town (one of only two meets for the year here) on Boxing Day. Snacks and beers paid for again, whilst we waste money putting bets on shit horses using a fucking hopeless form guide. Cracking fun, getting pissed watching all this plus the local talent strut by, whilst listening to the cricket on the radio. 

 

Then back to the pub, get more pissed, stumble home straight to bed, then up in the morning to watch some other obscure sport from the other side of the world. Then the cricket is on again. 

 

I fucking love Boxing Day, me. 

[RJ Fan club]

I've got 2 this year. My old place I left in May and my current place.

 

Went to my old works last night. I had a good time, mostly cos I don't have to work in that shithole anymore. The place is falling apart, and I have to confess probably I'm only a tiny part in that.

 

I had a decent slurp, arrived at 4:30 after they'd finished their meal and left at 9pm. A few nice drinks, nice chat with some old friends then a thank you goodbye, I'll leave you to get slaughtered and start the in fighting and bitching.

 

Got my new works tonight. Buffet in a working mans/village social club. On best behaviour as I manage a few people now and need to make sure I don't do my old tricks. My 7 month pregnant missus is coming too, so I hope to keep steady.

 

All in all a quiet one for me this year

[Bruce Spanner]

Mine was last night

 

I didn't go, I spend enough time with the joyless cunts.

 

Went out with friends and now have a fucker of a hangover and a smug look on my face when the tell me their drab stories about some cunt doing something to some other cunt which sounds about as far away from fun as I can imagine.

[Bjornebye]

Off on our Xmas meal at 12 , hopefully I can fuck off after food and get down the pub

[Nelly-Szoboszlai]

I think a lot of Liverpool City centre around Peacock, Alma De Cuba might be closed off today, as an off duty policeman was fatally assaulted near Colquitt Street last night.

 

Why can't these utter scrotes, the dregs of society, just go out, have a laugh without feeling compelled to crack somebody too?

 

All it takes is one punch. Sickening.

[Paulie Dangerously]

Stabbed they were. Shocking.

[Stu Monty]

Stabbed they were. Shocking.

 

Alright Yoda, we can all read the news.

[Remmie]

Got mine tonight, really looking forward to it as last years was ace. About 8 free pints, live band, decent veggie options and finished by getting banned at the casino

[Juniper]

Had our first a couple nights ago. Non eventful for me as I left around 11pm but there was a fight and nearly another one that got broken up.

 

Second one tonight. Leaving fairly soon after the meal again so I guess I'll hear all about it on Monday

 

Made a tit of myself at one in my youth and vowed never to again, rather keep out of all that nonsense.

[Harry Squatter]

The team next to me had theirs last week. One lad started being abusive to some bird calling her a slag and poured drunk over her face. She punched him and he got thrown out of the pub by the bouncers. Two of the senior managers got collared shagging down an entry. It's been an awkward week for most of them in work.

[A Red]

I work alone. I go out alone. I get pissed alone.

[Carvalho Diablo]

I work alone. I go out alone. I get pissed alone.

 

Who the fuck do you think you are like ? George Thorogood ?

 

[A Red]

I'm probably more like his brother, if he had one - George Nofuckingood

[RoboRiise]

The team next to me had theirs last week. One lad started being abusive to some bird calling her a slag and poured drunk over her face. She punched him and he got thrown out of the pub by the bouncers. Two of the senior managers got collared shagging down an entry. It's been an awkward week for most of them in work.

 

If ours were anything like that entertaining I'd make the effort to stay out.  As it is, had ours today and I was home by 6.15.

 

Even by the standards of £25 christmas lunches, the meal stood alone as comfortably the worst I've ever had.  OK we went to the Slug and Lettuce so it's not like I was expecting an elegant room and fine dining but fuck me, it was bad.

 

We were booked for 1.30, went for a few pints first and arrived at 1.25; the starter arrived at 2.20 with a further 35 minute break between that getting cleared and the main appearing.  Despite being booked two months ago, our table for 18 was a table for about 12 with 18 place settings, everybody virtually sat on each other's knee.  Waiter was a smarmy cunt who spent more time looking down the girls tops than actually serving.

 

My starter was allegedly pate with apple and calvados served with melba toast and caramelised red onion chutney.  The pate had the approximate consistency of dogshit but sadly none of the flavour, whilst the melba toast appeared to be a Warby's loaf that someone had sat on and then put next to the grill for a minute.  As for the chutney, it resembled one of those dense, dark little turds that you squeeze out the day after a heavy session on the guinness and was almost excruciatingly bitter.  I bought a jar of said chutney for £1.29 from Aldi a few weeks back and it was roughly 10,000 times better than that shite.

 

Main course was hilarious. I went for the turkey and to be fair, it was cooked pretty well although I first mistook it for a speck of dust on my plate.  Obviously this was served with the usual 'selection of seasonal vegetables' and in an unexpected move came fully plated up, rather than just giving us a few bowls to help ourselves.  Their generosity stretched to a single sprig of broccoli which was half stem and basically raw, two slices of carrot (honestly, fucking two), two pieces of parsnip which I'm fairly sure they began cooking sometime last week, three sprouts roughly the size of garden peas and two half roasties, the larger of which was around two inches in length.  Topping that off was a chipolata which looked suspiciously like something out of a bushtucker trial and a disc of what appeared to be Paxo sage and onion stuffing, although it might as well have been anything really because it was devoid of any flavour at all.

 

"All" of this was well covered with gravy, so given the incredibly miserly amount of food the crowning glory came when the waiter appeared with a fucking gravy boat asking if anybody wanted some more.  I was halfway tempted to grab it off him and down it in one just to try to get my money's worth.  I mean really, the spuds in particular - they are a staple food, cheap as fuck and used to pad out meals so why on earth would a place which must know they're serving war ration-sized meals not chuck a few more roasties on?  I managed to eat the lot in five minutes and I was taking my time.

 

Desert was a giant profiterole.  Now I'm not stupid, I know that when you go somewhere like this and see that item on the menu it's just going to be a fucking choux bun, so that wasn't any kind of shock.  I did fancifully imagine that it may come with some kind of fluid chocolate sauce though, but my hopes were soon dashed; instead it seemed to have a carapace of that Ice Magic stuff they used to sell in the 80s that set when you squirted it over ice cream.  I have no idea whether the praline filling was supposed to be ice cream that had half melted or cream that was half frozen and I suspect neither did they.  As it arrived, one of my colleagues asked me if I though the meal was decent value; my reply was 'only if this thing is full of fucking money'.

 

Oh and a round of four pints of Amstel was £21.

 

Headed into town for some ales after that.  Most comical price for a drink identified during the afternoon was £3.85 for a pint of Fosters.  By the time I fucked off at about half five I'd had seven pints in total and was as sober as when I went out, I actually get full of beer before I get pissed these days which is just tragic.  Also no chance at all of getting near to the only piece of skirt I have any interest in out of the attendees because it was just too early for those kind of shenanigans and I simply couldn't face staying on the offchance that an opportunity presented itself later in the evening.

 

Every year I say I'm not bothering next year, this time I think I really might mean it.  Also that meal review above is going on Trip Advisor later; I can handle a meal that's just shit at Christmas, in fact I pretty much expect it but that today jumped the shark completely and headed into the turbulent waters of openly taking the piss.

[Dr Nowt]

If ours were anything like that entertaining I'd make the effort to stay out.  As it is, had ours today and I was home by 6.15.

 

Even by the standards of £25 christmas lunches, the meal stood alone as comfortably the worst I've ever had.  OK we went to the Slug and Lettuce so it's not like I was expecting an elegant room and fine dining but fuck me, it was bad.

 

We were booked for 1.30, went for a few pints first and arrived at 1.25; the starter arrived at 2.20 with a further 35 minute break between that getting cleared and the main appearing.  Despite being booked two months ago, our table for 18 was a table for about 12 with 18 place settings, everybody virtually sat on each other's knee.  Waiter was a smarmy cunt who spent more time looking down the girls tops than actually serving.

 

My starter was allegedly pate with apple and calvados served with melba toast and caramelised red onion chutney.  The pate had the approximate consistency of dogshit but sadly none of the flavour, whilst the melba toast appeared to be a Warby's loaf that someone had sat on and then put next to the grill for a minute.  As for the chutney, it resembled one of those dense, dark little turds that you squeeze out the day after a heavy session on the guinness and was almost excruciatingly bitter.  I bought a jar of said chutney for £1.29 from Aldi a few weeks back and it was roughly 10,000 times better than that shite.

 

Main course was hilarious. I went for the turkey and to be fair, it was cooked pretty well although I first mistook it for a speck of dust on my plate.  Obviously this was served with the usual 'selection of seasonal vegetables' and in an unexpected move came fully plated up, rather than just giving us a few bowls to help ourselves.  Their generosity stretched to a single sprig of broccoli which was half stem and basically raw, two slices of carrot (honestly, fucking two), two pieces of parsnip which I'm fairly sure they began cooking sometime last week, three sprouts roughly the size of garden peas and two half roasties, the larger of which was around two inches in length.  Topping that off was a chipolata which looked suspiciously like something out of a bushtucker trial and a disc of what appeared to be Paxo sage and onion stuffing, although it might as well have been anything really because it was devoid of any flavour at all.

 

"All" of this was well covered with gravy, so given the incredibly miserly amount of food the crowning glory came when the waiter appeared with a fucking gravy boat asking if anybody wanted some more.  I was halfway tempted to grab it off him and down it in one just to try to get my money's worth.  I mean really, the spuds in particular - they are a staple food, cheap as fuck and used to pad out meals so why on earth would a place which must know they're serving war ration-sized meals not chuck a few more roasties on?  I managed to eat the lot in five minutes and I was taking my time.

 

Desert was a giant profiterole.  Now I'm not stupid, I know that when you go somewhere like this and see that item on the menu it's just going to be a fucking choux bun, so that wasn't any kind of shock.  I did fancifully imagine that it may come with some kind of fluid chocolate sauce though, but my hopes were soon dashed; instead it seemed to have a carapace of that Ice Magic stuff they used to sell in the 80s that set when you squirted it over ice cream.  I have no idea whether the praline filling was supposed to be ice cream that had half melted or cream that was half frozen and I suspect neither did they.  As it arrived, one of my colleagues asked me if I though the meal was decent value; my reply was 'only if this thing is full of fucking money'.

 

Oh and a round of four pints of Amstel was £21.

 

Headed into town for some ales after that.  Most comical price for a drink identified during the afternoon was £3.85 for a pint of Fosters.  By the time I fucked off at about half five I'd had seven pints in total and was as sober as when I went out, I actually get full of beer before I get pissed these days which is just tragic.  Also no chance at all of getting near to the only piece of skirt I have any interest in out of the attendees because it was just too early for those kind of shenanigans and I simply couldn't face staying on the offchance that an opportunity presented itself later in the evening.

 

Every year I say I'm not bothering next year, this time I think I really might mean it.  Also that meal review above is going on Trip Advisor later; I can handle a meal that's just shit at Christmas, in fact I pretty much expect it but that today jumped the shark completely and headed into the turbulent waters of openly taking the piss.

 

Can we put you down as a maybe?

 

Best bit is the brace of half roasties, and brings to mind a time I had to openly burst out laughing in a mate's face while eating on Las Ramblas with friends during a trip to Barca, one of whom was delivered a stone cold lasagne while the other received the sort of rations you did today. 

 

The look of wide-eyed innocence on his face, and the tone of someone appalled at what he was looking at and who genuinely didn't understand, when he asked the waiter in a gently British way "Excuse me, why are there only two potatoes?" was just perfect.  He didn't get anymore, and just sat with a confused expression.  My meal was lovely.

[RoboRiise]

Can we put you down as a maybe?

 

Best bit is the brace of half roasties, and brings to mind a time I had to openly burst out laughing in a mate's face while eating on Las Ramblas with friends during a trip to Barca, one of whom was delivered a stone cold lasagne while the other received the sort of rations you did today. 

 

The look of wide-eyed innocence on his face, and the tone of someone appalled at what he was looking at and who genuinely didn't understand, when he asked the waiter in a gently British way "Excuse me, why are there only two potatoes?" was just perfect.  He didn't get anymore, and just sat with a confused expression.  My meal was lovely.

 

I can picture it mate.  It's a good job I have a finely tuned sense of the absurd because I can just laugh at stuff like this these days, back in my early twenties I'd have been going full Falling Down at them.

[Dr Nowt]

I can picture it mate.  It's a good job I have a finely tuned sense of the absurd because I can just laugh at stuff like this these days, back in my early twenties I'd have been going full Falling Down at them.

 

Likewise, without a doubt.

[Josef Svejk]

I'm probably more like his brother, if he had one - George Nofuckingood

 

Brothers usually share surnames rather than forenames, do they not?

 

But I can relate to your previous post...