Date: 26 Oct 96
Once again I am forced to start a post by trying to figure out what happened last night... OK I'll start at the end and work backwards. I awoke this morning at 5am, stark nekkid, lying on my couch covered only by a sheet. (No Oso, not the sheet with the cutouts for the eyes and matching pointy hat...) That part is easy to explain; my bedroom is at the top of a very steep staircase and I don't want to emulate the Darsyesque Elbow Incident. The part that is hard to explain is the fact that my bad appears to have been slept in... Damn aliens obviously didn't carry me back to my bed after they finished testing that sledgehammer on my liver.
Anyway, to the story at hand. Bruv and me (good inglesh) went out for a quiet sundowner which turned into a game of pool and was followed by a visit to a recently redone sports bar. As it turns out, said sports bar has definite DBPotential. First thing I noticed was that everyone seemed to be dressed real weird - 'So what!' I figure, the beers cheep and there are wimmin folk. As it turns out there was a theme part (Why didn't anyone tell me?) which happened to be 'Tasteless'. Little did they know....
Trying to be the ever resourceful, I figure if you can't beat them, join them. Much to the bemusement of the band, I whip off the jeans and carry on drinking. Tasteless? I'll give you facking tasteless!
Then, as if the heavens had opened up and the angel were smiling, the singer announces that they are looking for someone to drink a yard of ale. Next thing I know I'm standing on the stage alone. Not a single bastard in the place wants six pints(?) of free beer forced down their gullet. WTF is this world coming to? Then they announce that the record stands at 55 seconds and if I beat it, I'll get a free bottle of champagne. I say 'Fack the champagne, I'll need a bucket!'. 19 seconds later I return to my seat, bottle of champagne in hand thinking 'This is staying down really well.'
[snip some uninteresting DB activity involving a dance floor, a wimmin and some huffer with no sense of DBism] Hushed silence awaits the announcement of the best dressed person. They announce the five finalists and shit, I'm one of them. Not bad for spur-of-the-moment improvisation. First prize, a week for two at some hotel. Second prize, another bottle of champagne. Although the applause said otherwise, apparently I got second place (yes, things at this point get very sketchy) and another bottle of bubbly get delivered to our table.
The rest of the evening is at best, blank but I remember getting dressed in the street and wandering through some late night adults only shop (that was bruv's idea and whether or not I had dressed by then is not exactly clear)
Now all I have to do is figure out how to get the aliens to wash my dishes.
Cheers
ALAN - Wasn't me!