Well, it seems my blogging partner has fled with all the weapons, leaving me dressed in a now-sequinless jumpsuit (I get nervous, I start picking at them) and hand-cuffed to a tree in the blogging wilderness, so it is up to me to serve drinks tomorrow night.
Britain is a binge-drinking-culture, my friends, and who am I to blow against the wind? I am going to get you all absolutely trashed tonight, folks, and I need the poison against which you have no defence. I want you to think back to the absolutely most blindingly, stonkeringly, dip-dep-dappingly, I-can’t-even-remember-my-name dipsomaniacal you’ve ever been. Now I want you to remember what you were drinking- that’s what I’m serving. Get ready for dancing on table-tops.
Now here’s a lame e-mail joke I was forwarded this morning, since we’re on the subject:
Things that are difficult to say when you’re drunk…
Things that are VERY difficult to say when you’re drunk…
b) British Constitution
c) Passive-aggressive disorder
Things that are DOWNRIGHT IMPOSSIBLE to say when you’re drunk…
a) Thanks, but I don’t want to sleep with you.
b) Nope, no more booze for me.
c) Sorry, but you’re not really my type.
d) No kebab for me, thank you.
e) Good evening officer, isn’t it lovely out tonight?
f) I’m not interested in fighting you.
g) Oh, I just couldn’t – no one wants to hear me sing.
h) Thank you, but I won’t make any attempt to dance, I have zero co-ordination.
i) Where is the nearest toilet? I refuse to wee in the street.
j) I must be going home now as I have work in the morning.
k) Nudie run? Not for me thanks.