Blind drunk in front of (minor) royalty
It's the early 90s, and I'm in my first proper job, working for a charity which happens to have the word 'Royal' in its name and happens to be celebrating an important anniversary.
To mark this event, there is a service of Thanksgiving at St Paul's, followed that evening by a reception in the Mansion House (for non-UK people or those who have to move their lips when counting - both locations are in London). As a member of staff - and there weren't many of us - I have to attend both functions, and mix with the great and the good.
The service at St Paul's was fine, finished at 1pm with the function at the Mansion House starting at 7pm. Six hours free in That London - what should I do ? Shopping, sight-seeing ? No, I meet up with an old university friend (who co-incidentally is now a Professor of Astrophysics) for a drink. This, predictably, is where it starts going wrong.

I was obviously not such a good friend as it wasn't until we had our first drink that he told me it was his birthday that day. I had 2 alternatives - vanish to the toilet and buy him a packet of novelty condoms as a present, or buy lots of drinks. Which one did I choose ?
By 6:45, I am fairly wasted. I stagger off in the dark towards the Mansion House, repeating the mantra to myself "I must not drink any more tonight" and munching Polos to try and disguise the 7 or so pints that were sitting uneasily in my stomach.

On arriving at the Mansion House, I'm surprised to find that the butlers are dressed up in Civil War uniform, and absent-mindedly accept a glass of champagne off them. Crivens - my promise not to drink didn't last. Oh well, just the one glass...

I then endured a 2 hour wait in the Mansion House Library, where the "high ups" were located whilst our Patron, Prince Michael of Kent, was being shown round the rabble in the main hall. The canapes ran out quickly - my lunch had been purely liquid - but even then I could have survived OK but for the fact that every time I took a sip of champagne, men dressed in Civil War costume kept replenishing my supply.

By the time HRH came to greet the staff, I was last in the line and visibly swaying. I was virtually blind drunk, but managed to slur something - what it was, I'll never know - to His Beardiness when I was presented to him. Apparently my boss was horrified when she saw me in the line-up of people awaiting their introduction, and just prayed that I didn't vomit over him / anyone. I was visibly pissed from some distance away...oh well.

That ordeal over, when the food was served I rushed to stuff myself, but it was all too late. I ended up collapsing in the toilets, being woken up enough to be put into a car for the long drive home, whereupon I passed out again and apparently farted like a bastard until dropped off at my destination.
Next day at work was Not Good. Apparently most of my colleagues (the female, sexually-frustrated, stuck in a crap job and unhappily married ones) wanted me sacked, but I just got a severe bollocking and told never to drink alcohol again at any formal function.
Funniest thing - I meet HRH a month later. Out of all the staff, he recognised me, saying "I've seen you before...".
I felt like saying "more than I can say for you" but felt that would have been pushing it.

And with that, my B3tan cherry is popped. Sorry for the length, but it's my first time and I don't know what to do with it...
( I_Was_Mordred, Thu 8 Nov 2007, 17:12, 1 reply)

I clicked 'i like this'
just because you said 'Crivens'
(spent.fish flipping and gasping, Thu 8 Nov 2007, 23:07, closed)