| When was The First Time You Were Drunk. 08:36 - May 19 with 14494 views | Discodroids |
14 years old, My Old man East Ham Dave was away on' business' ( Whoring and drinking was an integral part of his electrical supply business ) so had a few lads from school over. Bought a bottle of Malibu and Harp Larger. One moment we were all watching aunt peg kop a portion from Dirk Diggler on the VHS , the next one of the chaps was honking all over the living room shagcarpet and argos nest of tables.
Tried to cover the stench of the puke by spraying some tabac aftershave on it - the carpet reeked of a mouldering yeast infection on a canning town single mother for months to come.
We all fell asleep and heard one of us being heinz beef broth all over himself. Concerned he would choke on his own vomit, we moved him from bed to bath so he wasnt horizontal. Stripped him naked since he'd been sick all over his clothes - he looked a bit like a broken Mr Burns from the Simpsons or the victim of an altitude experiment at Sobibor, or possibly Bobby sands come to think of it.
An ungainly sight, One which still haunts me to this day but nevertheless a legendary performance from the lad.Never touched Malibu after that.
was violently ill and shaking like Nicolas cage in leaving las vegas for a day or two afterwards, but felt like a well traveled man of all seasons once that passed.
reading that back it seems like a homo erotic Shane meadows film, but thats the way the cards fell.
[Post edited 19 May 2016 9:21]
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| "...The monkey is never dead, Dealer. The monkey never dies. When you kick him off, he just hides in a corner, waiting his turn." |
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| When was The First Time You Were Drunk. on 11:39 - Oct 22 with 783 views | johncharles |
Was medium drunk last night. Feeling okay this morning. Just read most of this thread without realising it was two years old.
Bloody good though. |  |
| Strong and stable my arse. |
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| When was The First Time You Were Drunk. on 13:34 - Oct 22 with 738 views | R_from_afar |
Some terrific stories on here 
Let me share another one of mine...
Me and my mates were friendly with this girl who was from where we lived in Bucks but who was at Huddersfield Poly (as was); I used to go out with one of her friends. I (secretly) fancied the Poly girl a bit but my mate Chris was besotted with her. Given this, and the fact that she lived in a house of female students, Chris and I were keen to see her and somehow persuaded her to let us visit her for the weekend.
We more or less went straight out after the four hour drive up - wrong move #1, my stomach was far from lined and I was, and am, a bit of a lightweight. We hit a local bar and I remember foolishly racing the girl as we drank pints of Stella (which I don't even like). I sensed at the time that the evening wouldn't end well, but I had no idea how bad it would become.
We went on to the student uni and switched to Blastaways (how many wrong moves is that now?  ). I started to get that "I'm a bit lashed" feeling but as I eased off the drinking, I was hit by the tidal wave of trouble my empty stomach and unwise choice of libations had been storing up. I was trolleyed.
In its infinite wisdom, my pickled brain told me "Leave, just leave". Not such a bad plan in normal circumstances except a) I didn't have a key to the girl's house and b) I had never been to Huddersfield before and had no idea of her address.
There then followed three miracles. I staggered out onto a main road and:
Miracle 1: I saw, and successfully gained access to, a passing taxi.
Miracle 2: Perhaps I had ended up with the only psychic taxi driver in northern England, but somehow, my description of "a road on an embankment above an industrial estate" made sufficient sense for the driver to find the girl's house. Result! Plus I was somehow holding onto the endlessly churning contents of my stomach.
Miracle 3: I staggered up to the front door and - man alive - it was unlocked! So, I was pretty much home and dry, or so I thought. Back at base, still no puking or any other shameful acts. I would get away with this, ha! Err, wrong...
I sat on the girl's bed, steadily sipping water and praying that I could somehow contain the vile witches' brew which was rapidly curdling my insides. It was grim work because I felt wretched but somehow, I was clinging on. Then Chris returned and blurted out: "Where were you? You look awful!"
If there are any medics on here, I'd love them to explain how two simple sentences like that can send a person into spasms. I immediately felt the sick welling up feeling and rushed out of the room, only to yak all over the carpet. The girl had also come back and my antics caused pandemonium in the house. One of her flatmates, in a flap but probably half asleep because it must've been after 3am by now, decided the best way to deal with my sick (brave girl) was to apply bleach to it.
To cut the rest of this long and deplorable story short, the girls ended up with a ruined carpet and a reeking, feculant house. In the morning, they couldn't wait to get rid of us - surprise surprise - and Chris and I left there safe in the knowledge that if were the last men on earth, there was more chance of the girls dating baboons than getting physical with us losers.
A salutary tale.
RFA  |  |
| "Things had started becoming increasingly desperate at Loftus Road but QPR have been handed a massive lifeline and the place has absolutely erupted. it's carnage. It's bedlam. It's 1-1." |
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| When was The First Time You Were Drunk. on 14:22 - Oct 22 with 709 views | headhoops |
loving this thread.
gentlemen I present -
Shepperton Village Fayre circa 1974 - Sally James from Tiswas was the official guest opener. A mate and I decided we would stroll down and see what was on offer for a couple of well behaved 13 year olds. Usual coconut shy, treasure maps, jigsaw puzzles with one missing piece etc and then we find the hit a bullseye and win a bottle of Pomagne stall. 2nd dart - bingo, off we go with the bottle thinking its some sort of posh lemonade. 15 minutes we are back, 6 darts later and we are in business. This one goes down even quicker. We try our luck for a third time without success, however, my mate spots all the bottles in the back of the tent and so we help ourselves to a couple.
No idea of the alcohol content but 2 bottles down and the fayre is getting a little fuzzy. My mate heads for home, I decide on borrowing one more bottle. Three quarters of the way through it and I'm full of fizz, under cooked hot dog, onions and fall in the bushes to be sick. I'm spotted by a kindly St John's Ambulance lady who takes me to the first aid tent and keeps banging on about heat stroke! I'm released back into the wild and the mile walk home took almost two hours. I go straight to bed and I felt wretched all the following day. A few weeks later I confessed to my dad about the darts and winning the first bottle. Legend that he was, he had a dartboard up in the dining room in days. I ended up playing with him for the local pub team at 15. Happy days. |  |
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| When was The First Time You Were Drunk. on 14:40 - Oct 22 with 700 views | Northernr |
This is a sore one.
17, first year of sixth form, there was a bit of a sort in our Geography class called Jenna who all the footballers fancied but didn't know how to talk to her, while I knew how to talk to her but didn't know how to fancy her. We got on basically, and I secretly fcking loved her. If that makes sense.
So I decides the best way for me to ask her out would be to get a bit of Dutch courage in me and send her a big brave text message saying 'look, how about it?'
The plan is set, and because I'm a football geek and remember Dominic Matteo scoring an own goal while the plan is in action I can tell you it was Tuesday January 28, 2003, and Chelsea beat Leeds 3-2 on the television. I got home usual time, intending to have a couple of beers out of the fridge and then send this message. Problem one, no beers. No anything really, must have been weekly shop day the day after.
What there is, is a bottle of plain white label Tesco own brand gin, which presumably parents used for cleaning the cutlery or unblocking the sink or something. And I start tucking into fairly large helpings of this with orange juice, on my own in the front room, pretending that I'm just watching Chelsea v Leeds on the TV like any other night, and for some reason necking pints of orange juice.
There came a point where I realised I'd overcooked it, but by then it was way too late and there was still more alcohol to seep in. So I was bang in trouble by the end of this bloody match and, presumably, decided that was the point to get the message away and tell her everything. I say presumably because I then immediately deleted it from my sents, because even Drunk Clive knew that Sober Clive would be absolutely mortified to read it back afterwards and got rid of it.
Woke up the following morning with all the vomit, all over the place. Managed to convince sceptical mother that I had a stomach bug "YOU SAW ME, I WAS JUST HERE WATCHING CHELSEA LEEDS DRINKING ORANGE JUICE". Further vom.
Made it back to college on the Thursday, getting a couple of library books out it becomes apparent that Jenna and mates are on the other side of the shelves talking about what had happened and what I'd said, and that they didn't know I was there and could hear it, and that they weren't leaving any time soon, and that I had to get myself off to law lecture next period. So, eventually, I had to walk around, reveal I'd been there the whole time, walk through the silent crowd of girls, and away.
Mor. Ti. Fying.
I've basically been drunk ever since. It's best to just forget. |  | | |
| When was The First Time You Were Drunk. on 15:09 - Oct 22 with 669 views | plasmahoop |
My worst drunk was when I was 21, the cricket club I played for threw me a surprise, late 21st party. Which was great apart from having the most horrible combination of drinks. Absinthe in my bitter was the piece de resistance. I got taken home in a taxi, had to stop it but chundered down the door. I couldn't open the front door either and had to be carried upstairs by mum and my mate who had at least taken me home.
Am feeling a bit ropey today, had a load of Guinness yesterday at kempton, and have pebbledashed the work bog fairly spectacularly |  | | |
| When was The First Time You Were Drunk. on 16:25 - Oct 22 with 606 views | MrSheen |
I was a reckless drinker from the age of 15 to about 50. I’ve slowed down a lot recently, and though I haven’t done anything to seriously regret (I think), I’ve been luckier than I deserved. My worst ever was when I went to a Student Union garden party one summer Sunday, where they served cocktails out of dustbins. As a relatively hardened Guinness drinker, I didn’t think I could come to any harm drinking anything with fruit juice or lemonade in it, but I was feeling a bit fuzzy about 6.30 and thought it was time to go home, about 10 minutes walk away. The curtains of memory draw shut at that point.
They open again about six hours later. I’m staggering along an A road in the middle of the countryside, wondering which way is home. For some reason I decide that the quickest way is across some fields, and it takes about half an hour before I pull myself through a hedge onto another road, where a road sign tells me I’m about six miles north of town. I set off in the right direction with my thumb out hopefully and incredibly, someone stops. It was the heyday of the Peace Convoy, and an old hippy driving a 1950s bus with most of the seats out, filled with rope and other junk, kindly drove me back. I was actually tempted by his initial offer of a trip to his camp, but I thought it was time for bed, and I got my head down at about 2am.
I woke up about midday to hear the maintenance men on my halls banging away as they fitted replacement doors down the corridor. My face was aching and covered in blood, with bits of gravel in the wounds. I worked out later I must have tripped up as I walked along the road with my hands in my pockets. A friend came to see me later and said he’d found me about nine the night before, booting the doors in of a couple of guys because they were playing Yes and Genesis too loud. He talked me down, and to thank him, I offered to get some Chinese. I must have headed out on autopilot like MH370, only coming to in the middle of nowhere. It made for a story, but I’d be horrified if my kids got in that state. |  | | |
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the bump though had shook up my stomach and the next comedian saw me dash off, followed me into the toilet and held the mike over me while I was sick. I emerged from the toilets to clapping and an ovation of the crowd chanting my name. 