One Saturday night, my mate and I met him in our favorite pub and had the usual trouble understanding what he was actually saying, he was so far gone. Somehow we did understand one thing he said which was (imagine very slow and very slurry)...... "I'm going for a a a a er....... piss". With that he stood up from our window seat, staggered a whole four metres, (only staying upright because the place was so packed that it would have been impossible to actually fall over) and then squeezed himself into the tiny gap behind the fruit machine, pulled out his old chap and just pi55ed all over the carpet and the wall, before calmly putting himself away and rejoining us. To this day, I don't know how he wasn't spotted, and also, to this day, he refuses to admit it ever happened.
Oh, what we would have given for smart phones/cameras in 1984.