The Silver Surfer
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- 1 Jul 2009
- Messages
- 4,329
It was 1986, I was 13 and it was the night of the big disco at the community centre.
Despite being the brother of the former cock of the school I felt my social standing could do with a further boost.
My mate would often hang round with the older lads and get a bit tipsy, so when I was invited along for the purpose of getting smashed before the disco I thought it was a great idea.
Wrong!
I chose a 2 litre bottle of Strongbow as my beverage of choice and chugged the lot thinking I was the bees knees. I remember us staggering along the main road on that sunny evening and I was shouting, "THIS IS FUCKIN' BRIIILLIANT"! while the others laughed and commented that it was my first getting pissed.
Anyway, we arrived and the music was booming to the sound of "Happy Hour" by the Housemartins and everyone was either snogging or dancing. However, the thrill wasn't to last very long..
I went from elated to dizzy to queasy in a spectacular short time until my stomach was protesting too much and I barged my was into the lads bogs and delivered jet of spew into the sink infront of all the older lads I'd been with who were in having a smoke. After being the recipient of rapturous cheers and with that evenings tea dribbling down my chin, I then felt my opposite end begin to twitch.
Realising there were only seconds before evacuation would commence I stumbled into the cubicle and in the nick of time dropped my trollies just as a gush of poo came tumbling out which turned to a frothy gas as I sat with my head in my hands.
It was only then the lockless cubicle door swung open revealing a crowd of baying Muppets from all sides. The cacophony of laughter still haunts me to this day.
Somehow, some way, I arrived at the front seating area of the building where I was generously put into the recovery position by the staff, barely conscious and sweating like a pig.
When I woke up it was in response to a plastic tube being forcefully inserted down my throat.
Despite my protests the hospital staff managed to engage it with my stomach and pump the remaining booze out leaving me deeply traumatised and disillusioned with my teenage life.
The next time I awoke it was in a dimly lit side room. I turned to my left side and saw a drip solution being fed into my arm.
I groaned, partially remembering the sequence of events which led to my current situation.
I turned to my right and froze.
Sat in a chair, arms folded and looking like she was chewing a wasp, was my usually gentle mother.
"Sorry mum", I whispered.
Despite being the brother of the former cock of the school I felt my social standing could do with a further boost.
My mate would often hang round with the older lads and get a bit tipsy, so when I was invited along for the purpose of getting smashed before the disco I thought it was a great idea.
Wrong!
I chose a 2 litre bottle of Strongbow as my beverage of choice and chugged the lot thinking I was the bees knees. I remember us staggering along the main road on that sunny evening and I was shouting, "THIS IS FUCKIN' BRIIILLIANT"! while the others laughed and commented that it was my first getting pissed.
Anyway, we arrived and the music was booming to the sound of "Happy Hour" by the Housemartins and everyone was either snogging or dancing. However, the thrill wasn't to last very long..
I went from elated to dizzy to queasy in a spectacular short time until my stomach was protesting too much and I barged my was into the lads bogs and delivered jet of spew into the sink infront of all the older lads I'd been with who were in having a smoke. After being the recipient of rapturous cheers and with that evenings tea dribbling down my chin, I then felt my opposite end begin to twitch.
Realising there were only seconds before evacuation would commence I stumbled into the cubicle and in the nick of time dropped my trollies just as a gush of poo came tumbling out which turned to a frothy gas as I sat with my head in my hands.
It was only then the lockless cubicle door swung open revealing a crowd of baying Muppets from all sides. The cacophony of laughter still haunts me to this day.
Somehow, some way, I arrived at the front seating area of the building where I was generously put into the recovery position by the staff, barely conscious and sweating like a pig.
When I woke up it was in response to a plastic tube being forcefully inserted down my throat.
Despite my protests the hospital staff managed to engage it with my stomach and pump the remaining booze out leaving me deeply traumatised and disillusioned with my teenage life.
The next time I awoke it was in a dimly lit side room. I turned to my left side and saw a drip solution being fed into my arm.
I groaned, partially remembering the sequence of events which led to my current situation.
I turned to my right and froze.
Sat in a chair, arms folded and looking like she was chewing a wasp, was my usually gentle mother.
"Sorry mum", I whispered.