what's the most stupid/idiotic thing you've done whilst intoxicated?

Pissed on the canteen wall of Croydon police station, one New Year’s Eve many years ago…….’cause I was busting

I got lifted one night in Glasgow and my protesting mates decided they’d climb onto the roof of Cowcaddens Police station to break me out.. I was happy enough in there, woken up with my usual free tea and bacon/sausage rolls in the morning.. the ****s wouldn’t get me a taxi home tho 😉

if you slept with kerry Katona you would remember as well
Remember kids when you bedsit feels lonely dont get drunk and then go to Warrington Iceland on the pull

ernie_lynch – Member
Pissed on the canteen wall of Croydon police station, one New Year’s Eve many years ago…….’cause I was busting

I was lifted on Sauchiehall St in Glasgow one night and my protesting mates decided to follow me to Cowcaddens Police station where they climbed onto the roof to break me out 😆
I was perfectly happily tucked up and woken in the morning with my usual Tea and bacon/sausage rolls.. ****s refused to call me a Taxi tho. 😉

another time in Glasgow I was lifted for simply for trying to hail a cab :?.. turned out the driver (in a Police officer’s uniform) was a complete wan*** with no sense of humour, and wouldn’t accept it when I told him so. Debated with his partner all the way to the police station as to whether he self pleasured himself or had a sense of humour.. turns out I was right afterall. left in the morning with no charges.

if you slept with kerry Katona you would remember as well

I subscribe to the theory that if you were drunk enough to want to, you’d be too drunk to be able to.

This thread has triggered lots of memories that should have stayed locked away.

Early spring, been out for two days with the usual suspects, mate remembered it was his birthday, so we decided a trip to Manga in edinburgh was on the cards. For whatever reason, we decided it was better for me to drive from Newcastle to Edinburgh than to get a taxi.
Drove to edinburgh off our tits, hammering sniff, the usual suspects fed me some base to keep me alert (that was a great idea).
Turned up at Manga with our names on the guest list and a bemused bouncer as I emptied out my pockets, 4 packs of twenty, half a dozen lighters, masses of change and notes, three jackets, and two two litre bottles of iron bru, had a belter night there. Decided to head home, couldn’t find my way out of edinburgh, stopped to ask the local police who kindly pointed me i the right direction, why they didn’t stop me I don’t know.
Drove home, as I crossed the across the border I had an epiphany and knew every corner of the road, and raced home car full like a racing driver. A rover 420 turbo suited and booted. The passangers thought it was a video game, I don’t know to this day how we didn’t die.
Getting back to Newcastle, we decided to finish the night off by finding a brass for the birthday boy.
Our big fat Indian mate had passed out by this point from too many blues. There was no way a brass was going to entertain anybody with that bemoth lying there on the floor. So we pulled the coffee table over him, tied his legs and arms to each leg of it, and put a table cloth over the top to hide him
Our coffee table then snored and twitched for hours.
Headed into the town and came home with one of those automatic bb guns that fired the yellow balls, spent the morning playing Daveroo – our new incarnation of Buckaroo, where we hung bits of Buckaroo off our mate Dave’s head and shot them off when he was passed out.

Later that day I went to see a man about a dog, I was blued up to the eyeballs, and just managed to swerve around a stationary bus.
That really shook me up, as it would have been the end of all of us in the car the speed we were going and I promised myself never to get that messed up and behind the wheel again.

That is one of the memories that makes my heart pound, my hands sweat and feel sick. Not good at all and I don’t know how I didn’t end up dead in jail or both.

xmas eve about 7 years ago got wasted around Bury, managed to hurl into the urinal perfectly while having a pi$$ then fell through a pizza shop window on the way to the taxi, collapsed on the floor by the taxi and had to get lifted in by 4 lads, fell asleep on the pavement outside the house then on the stairs with the front doors wide open and suspiciously wet jeans… 😳

Whisky and sambuka shots really don’t go well together!

Quirrel is Hunter S Thompson and I claim my 5 pints of mescaline!

Quirrel.

How you survived is a mystery…although I don’t know what you’re talking about for most of that post (brass, blues, sniff).

Could you send Dave done to London with a BB gun so I can play Daveroo on Saturday night?

Quirrel has successfully closed this thread to all new posters. Hands down winner.

However BBSB is in second with “HELLOOO DUNDEE!”.. Still can’t stop chuckling over that image.

Quirrel – I thought I enjoyed myself in Newcastle, you took it to another level/dimension, sounds like I could have known you but I would have remembered 🙂

How you survived is a mystery

It is. Genuinely are moments where I think the only thing keeping me alive was the different substances acting against each other.

I picked a fight with 4 Oxford Blues boxers 😮

Oxford boxers are sissies. Hardly a scary prospet really 🙂

I wish to point out for the record that it was not Kerry Catona. As far as I know, Catona does not have three strategically placed piercings. Nor is she a psycho hose beast who stalked me for about three months after the event.

“hose”?

Something you’re not telling us CFH?

Not as crazy as many stories here but memorable all the same:

I once went out drinking with friends after we’d all had a big helping of ‘mushroom soup’. About ten pints later we were running to the kebab house when I tripped down a couple of steps I hadn’t seen, taking the full force of the fall on my face. I ended up sprawled in a pool of blood in the kebab house doorway with smashed teeth, chin cut to the bone and dislocated jaw.

After stitching me up the hospital decided to let me go home so they put me in a wheelchair as I was too wasted to walk. As the nurse briskly wheeled me to a waiting taxi my undone laces wrapped around a front wheel catapulting me into another painfull face plant with the ground. A friend of mine out did me a few nights later by surviving a 50ft cliff fall with only minor cuts. They reckon he was so drunk that he just kind flolloped down the cliff without too much fuss.

Got my teeth rebuilt but my jaw still plays up at times to remind me of my excess that night.

Can’t remember why but after a heavy session at uni decided it would be a good idea to jump of Kingston bridge into the thames at about 3am, as dare, on the way back to halls. Suprisingly shallow I remember thinking as my feet touched the silty mud on the river bed, who knows what could have been under the water, luckily I popped back up to the surface. Beckoning my friend to follow me which he duly did. both surviving another day. Scary thinking back on it now though.

Ah yes, the memories flood back, a tide of slightly hazy, tampon-infested sewage…..

Waaaaay back in the 90s, a couple called Gav and Fat Nicky (she was a girl…just) used to organise parties in the middle of nowhere. They had a generator, a sound system and big bags of interesting drugs.

Needless to say, they also had a decent following, and on this particular night, the word went out that there was to be a full on rave in the Forest of Skene, not far out of Aberdeen. So me and a rag-taggle bunch got in somone’s Transit and left the safety of the pub for some high times, stopping only to hit the off license for whisky.

We found the place eventually and immediately scored as much as we could. The haul included several wraps of dried mushies, some strawberries (acid tabs) and a few wraps of quality speed. The music was loud enough to deaden the sound of the generator and we got down to some serious dancing.

At about two in the morning, some bright spark announced that it was skinny-dipping time – the Loch of Skene couldn’t be far away, could it? But it was, and the forty or so intrepid souls who came along soon got horribly lost. I volunteered to climb a tree, to see if I could see the loch from atop the canopy. I picked the tallest Douglas Fir in the woods and swarmed up it, with the magical ninja skills bestowed on drunk, tripping, speeding people (I was a bottle of Jack down at this point, along with the mushies, speed and acid).

Sure enough! The loch was visible, sparkling in the moonlight and immensely appealing. I looked down to tell everyone that I could see it, but all that came out was, “Wow! You all look like ants!”, before the branch snapped and I began my journey back to terra fima.

I have since been back to look at this tree – easily found as it pokes 20 odd feet above the rest, and I’d guess it’s about 80-100 feet tall. Fortunately, I hit almost every branch on the way down, but still managed to split my head open, pull every ligament in my body and fracture three ribs. All the other tripping people ran away (don’t blame them) which left two strangers to drag me back to the party. Managed to play a gig the next night but spent the next couple of months on crutches.

Eh, most of the Footie team after working up to it decided it would be a good idea to run naked, en masse to kelvinbridge swingpark in the west end and do synchronised naked press ups, star jumps etc… Think it was about 5 am midweek so not too many folk about.. Well, prob not after seeing ten odd lads running towards them in the nip..
Same football team, on tour in Albania. Terrana, after a night downing raki in the sky tower decided it would be a good idea with 2 mates to go swimming in a lovely big fountain.. Stripped off, in up to my waist when I realised the rest of the boys had legged it. Looked behind me to find a police van pulling up and guys with kalashnikovs jumping out. Spent 10 min (longest of my life) responding to their shouts of “WHY YOU DO?” with I’m Scottish, I’m very drunk, and I didnt realise the importance you placed on your civic architecture whilst franticly trying to get dressed. They let me go after some pleading and I was nice enough to pick up my mates clothes as I ran in their gen direction..
Same trip different town ended up drinking with some of the local mafia, nice enough guys, stood their round but we bugged out when they started showing us their glocks..
Got some other decent drug influenced stories but finishing nightshift soon so bedtime looming..
In

just had a memory come flooding back… put our friend in a wheely bin and wheeled him about 4miles across town, we’d tap the side when other people walked by so he could open the lid and pop up scaring the passers by (when you’re drunk as a kid that’s beyond funny for some reason) eventually we got the to canal and tried tipping him and the bin in over the bridge 😯 luckily he fell out of the bin instead of falling inside it and he landed on a shopping trolley dumped in the canal… got halfway through trying to stand back up again and the bin fell on his head knocking him off the trolley and into the canal. climbed out over a load of nettles onto the bank.

luckily he saw the funny side, he was the kinda friend who’d always be up for a silly suggestion… once walked through the town centre after setting his shoes on fire, would regularly sit with his feet and shoes in the camp/bonfire until it melted through and started burning his feet, would snort anything we put in front of his face and we loved him for it haha.

when you’re drunk as a kid that’s beyond funny for some reason

I’m an adult and sober and that’s still beyond funny.

Nothing of the same calibre as some of the above but a couple of episodes that could have gone bad.

When at Uni (Durham) I did the Lumley Run one night. Lumley Castle to Durham Castle, in under 3 hours (7 miles) with a drink in every pub en route (26). Made it back in one piece and then was having a celebratory pint in the college bar when I just passed out and fell over, onto a low table absolutely covered in pint glasses. And then got up without a scratch. Can only think it must have been like one of those Indian Fakir tricks.

Ski-ing in Val D’Isere, one evening we ‘invented’ the daft idea of waiting for a car to come past, grabbing onto the back wiper and getting towed along using your shoes as skis. Fell too many times to count and ended up bruised all over (a road covered in hard packed snow and ice is fairly unforgiving) but incredibly no real damage.

Just remembered another. Durham has these huge steel bollards at the top of the pedestrian areas that can be removed to let emergency vehicles down. One night me and a couple of mates decided to nick one (nice City crest on them btw). Between three of us, inebriated we were staggering so much we were in danger of dropping this thing so i announced I’d sort it and swung it over my shoulder like it was nothing and set off up the road to Moatside court where a mate lived. he wasn’t in but a girl we knew came out of an adjacent room and told us to be quiet so we asked her to make us coffee instead. She refused so we rammed her door down with the bollard (or would have done if she hadn’t opened up after the first warning ram). She made us coffee, we left, leaving the bollard under her bed.

Come the following night, we tried to take it back sober. It took 3 of us to lift it, let alone carry it!