With great beer comes great irresponsibility

“There was nothing really as glorious as a good beer shit – I mean after drinking twenty or twenty-five beers the night before. The odour of a beer shit like that spread all around and stayed for a good hour-and-a-half. It made you realize that you were really alive.”-Charles Bukowski.

This beautiful quote provided me with the inspiration I needed that day. It was a Wednesday. My friend has just finished his medical exams. This called for a huge day of man celebration. A Broccasion.

The party is hosted at my house. The homemade beer pong table comes out and the drinking begins, it is 12 noon.

While we play beer pong a mixture of UFC and Madden drinking games begin behind us. Miles and I are dominating the table; the opening trick shots are getting more and more ridiculous as we become arrogant with our unbeaten streak. The drinking continues until 8pm. Miles and I have remained undefeated and now shouting in glory at our opponents. This is also the time that shit gets weird.

8:00pm: Having previously lost to Guy at UFC while he wore an oven glove I am punished with naked press-ups, not one to shy away from a challenge, I remove my clothes and begin doing press ups on the tarpaulin I have laid down in my lounge. Guy now pours two beers on my back and down my ass, encouraged with cheers. Homoerotic? Probably.

8:05pm: A random Canadian man has entered my house and begins partying with us. As party tax, we make him funnel two beers, mid funnel I realise, for some reason, I am holding a bottle of Miles’ piss. I see his Canadian face struggling beneath me as he finds it difficult to breathe while swallowing the beer; I think it is only fair to pour the whole bottle of piss into the top of the funnel.

International Bonding

Canada: Jeese guys, why was it warm?! It was so warm, like so warm. I can taste piss.

8:06pm: Britain 1-0 Canada. People are now pissing inside my house against the walls.

Me: Guys that is inside my house! Why are you not outside??!

Friends: But it feels like we are outside!

8:07pm: My fire alarm is now going off as one friend begins passing out cigars.

8:08pm: Pat runs in with photos on his phone of the vomit he just shared with my doorstep. I decide it is time to leave my house before it gets worse. I call a bunch of taxis and manage to get everyone in as we head for the club.

8:15pm: We arrive at Live Lounge, at this early hour only one or two other people are here. We head to the bar and through shouting, we manage to be informed shots are £1 and cocktails are 2 for 1. This is dangerous.

8:25pm: We are thrown out of Live lounge for reasons ranging from abusive jokes  to forming a full scale fight with the ice from our cocktails.

8:40pm: On arrival at the next club, one friend is too drunk to be allowed in. He now walks the streets of Cardiff alone for a few hours.

8:43pm: Inside the club I am happy with the talent. I look at my phone one or two hours later to find I have 12 missed calls from Marc. Marc rings as I am looking at my phone so I pick up and shout, “I don’t know what you are saying!! I am at the downstairs bar at the back!!” and hang up.

12.05pm: I now get a call from Guy who is standing outside the club in the pouring rain asking why I am not outside. I have no explanation for why he is outside. I go out to meet him and as we try to re-enter we are told we have to pay again. I am not paying again. Instead we wait outside; it is not long before two girls with umbrellas arrive, so we tag along. Then Marc calls again.

Me: MARC!!

Nurse Claire: Hi this is Nurse Claire, your friend has sustained a serious head injury, and we need somebody sober to come pick him up. Are you sober?

Me: Nurse Claire, I am fairly sober but I have two girls with me right now.

Nurse Claire: You have to be serious; if you do not come to pick him up he will have to stay the night.

Me: I shall be there as soon as I can Nursey Clairey.

12:35pm: True to my word, I ditch the girls and after realising I don’t have money for the taxi I begin to run. Guy accompanies me until we get to his house behind the union. In drunk fear for my friend I continue the 3-mile run, the rain has now become a small monsoon and I am getting ferociously warm. Realising I am sweating and have to wear this shirt out again in 2 days, I remove it. Now running topless down the middle of the roads I am repeatedly called by Marc asking where I am.

Unknown time: Finally I see A&E ahead of me. I run in to glaring eyes that must be wondering what the soaking wet topless man is doing. I ask the receptionist where my friend is. I dash around the corner and see Marc! I also see doctors and police who instantly tell me I am not sober. I straight up disagree with them.  After long discussion and some persuasion while Marc tries hugging every nurse they let me take him home with a leaflet about brain damage.

It turns out Marc was hit by a car. The friend I mentioned who did not make it into the club joined him in the ambulance, arrived in the hospital and then walked back into the town centre to party. Safe to say this was a great night. The blood from Marc's head remains on my pillow to remind me of how to FSU.

I feel sorry for people who don't drink. When they wake up in the morning, that's as good as they're going to feel all day.