Where was I?

Right, E went to the loo closely followed by D. Q was slumped in the corner so I wandered off to the loo myself. D had clearly got lost because he was only just ahead of me when I reached the toilet. D walked in, said 'Hi E****', and then both collapsed like a puppet with it's strings cut and spectacularly vomited over himself.

E and I looked at each other. D was unconscious on the floor. "Do you think he ate anything before he came out?" E asked. D heaved up enough that a small wave bounced off the far wall and came back. "Ah," E and I said in unison, "Spaghetti."

We propped his head up in a urinal so that he'd stop being sick over the floor. I was sober (or drunk) enough to enquire whether that was hygenic or not... :)

Some random punter walks into the loo at this point, stands in front of the urinal next to the one D had his head in, unzips and says the memorable line "Great! Entertainment while you piss!"

After twenty minutes he wasn't going to get up so we summoned Q from the bar and the three of us dragged/carried D into the garden in front of the pub where he could puke in comfort. He then decided that it would be a good idea to come out to the world. We'd always known he was gay but he'd never taken the final step and tell us (or, as it turned out, his parents). Sadly this touching moment of a very drunk man, in tears, yelling "I'm gay!" at the top of his voice was slightly ruined by eleven of our ex-teachers all strolling past and the BFB (big fat barman) asking "What does he mean, he's gay?" Umm.....

We had to summon his dad to come and pick him up (not a nice person) and while waiting for him Q decided to join in the act, sat down and happily started puking up over the arm rest. The BFB helpfully commented that "...don't worry, the crows'll eat it."

Once D had gone back with his dad we had the problem of how to get Q home as he couldn't stand. He lived in Warwick, about 5 miles away from where we were, and we swiftly realised that we couldn't walk him home as every ten steps he had to stop to dry rorf (and the one time he staggered into the woods to go to the loo he game back having shat all over his shoes :-/).

My less than glorious contribution then included walking home to get my car and driving Q home with a totally sober E spotting cars for me. Not my finest moment.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is The Spaghetti Incident. :)