Went on a stag week end to Blackpool.
Started on pints, moved onto shorts, was then informed that champagne was the best tipple of a night out. Decided to mix with a pill for good measure. Got lairy, lost my ticket for my coat, screaming at the cloakroom attendant. Bouncer starts up. I feel at this point i should state that i am a gentle giant who normally just looks like a mean bastard, and never ever get violent. I decked him, ran away from the following crowd of bouncers, fell down the stairs denting my leg. Ended up lost big time mid hallucination that i was actually in just a slightly redecorated Gloucester. Ended up dodging trains on a train track, trying to break into houses to get warm, and failing miserably. Wound up in a factory of some kind mid Game-of-Syphon-Filter (Playstation game) Trip. i annoyed some blokes obviously on the end of a long shift. Who chased me. With Sticks. Ran away, got caught by a couple, got hurt, got a stick off one and somehow either beat them or scared the fuck out of them with the now pulsating dents on my body. Continued to run through a scrapyard being followed by an alsation. Got loster. Left the most pathetic "help i'm lost and hurt" call to my brother's phone, got a cab to a b&b i had no clue as to it's location and had to aim him back from the tower until the money ran out. Found the B&B, led down, got woken up immediately, had a breakfast and was then told we were going to the pleaseure beach and would walk to wake us up a bit. My leg was bruised to 1 1/2 times it's normal size, and basically crawled along the front until passing out and having to go back to the b&b and stayed unconscious until the 4 hour train journey home.

I have'nt drunk champagne since.

or ventured to blackpool.

And i still can't go out with my mates without being played back the phone message.
( Ulic hissing slightly, Fri 19 Mar 2004, 8:22, Reply)