I.Want.To.Die. Your worst hangover, where, when and how?

Discussion in 'The NAAFI Bar' started by Speedy, Mar 9, 2006.

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  1. Come on, we've all had them. But I'd like to bet that we all have had one which still makes you wince to this day. The once which causes you to inch away to the opposite side of the bar to which the bottle, or bottles of the culprit lurks. So where was your worst/ Where was the one which reduced every eye blink to an explosion within your skull, and every noise to a tear inducing hell?
    Mine was in 92 at Fulda whilst on an exchange with a US cav regt. We'd arrived that afternoon from Sennelager and were busy trying out their fantastic bar facilities by 3pm. By 7pm we had made lots of new friends who, being American, like to dish out tequila like it was tap water. I remember going down town (sort of) and visiting many bars and clubs.
    The next day however hell decided to set up camp in my head. It took me 15 mins to raise my head from the pillow an to spend a freezing day doing various sports activites, social events and other things which did not involve my going back to bed for an eternity. I still do not have the words to describe the pain I was in.
  2. mine was on a smoker on Hohne ranges....

    i was attached to the Arty, and we all got pished, the whole fitter section drunk this absolute shi ite beer called Forum, i'm not sure if its still available in Germany but trust me, don't drink the crap.

    After god knows how many cans, i retired to the Chieftain ARRV for a good nights kip, i didn't realise however, i was meant to be on stag that night, and i have no recollection of Gnr Fcuknuts trying to wake me at 4am for my hours stint.

    What i recollect very well however, was the BSM booting me fairly harshly in my maggot in order to waken me. Screaming and shouting for me to get up and then my mind hurts when i recollect the next hour, running around the range with an AS90 155mm shell.

    Apparently telling one of his Gnr's "look, i am not going on stag, if you wake me again im gonna cave ur head in with this maglite, go and find some other cnut to do it" does not go down well....

    my head hurt for 2 days, my nose was burning from the projectile vomitting i was doing as i gently jogged around with the shell, and i accidently sh1t my pants......

    Ah, memories........ :eek:
  3. It was either drinking claret and new castle brown ale which was horrible but was still mobile in the morning if only for the search for fluid and pain killers ,But, Worse was drinking something somebody brough back from bosnia .collapesed over porcelin
    telephone to be roused by a cry come quickly" woodys dead" lurched up right denied anything was wrong and precreded to try to cycle home got 5 m across drill hall fell over and tried to keep cyclying .Taken home lay on floor till following night wife couldnt really
    start shouting for over a 2 days . :(
  4. armysurplusspecial wrote

    oh how i remember drinking that sh1te also, have to agree that it is rank but some beer is always better than no beer at all.
  5. Sennelager, mid eighties. Lots of us girlies got invited into a Bundeswehr drinking den and plied with beer. Yep, ended up doing "Zum Steifel" (The Boot) it all started going down hill from the moment I made a mistake during an extremely complicated tongue twister and table tapping routine and was obliged to clear the boot which lead to more boot clearances etc etc.

    Made it back to my bunk. Woke up in bed next morning, fully clothed, including a buckled pair of spectacles, in a bed full of puke with regurgitated carrots in my hair. I had the vaguest recollection of being trailed along through the camp by each arm, toes dragging behind me.

    As the day wore on I started to have flashbacks and remebered that at one point on the journey to my little bed, by virtue of drunken burbling I managed to convince said helpers that I could walk unaided. They let go, Smack! face first into the deck, suppose that accounted for the knackered glasses.

    Attractive?, NOT! 8O

    I felt bad, REALLY BAD and as the day wore on it just got worse. Standing in the Orderly Room getting a full on late for work and bringing into disrepute bollocking from the Adjt did me little good at all.

    Youth, Germany, cheap beer, ah happy days!
  6. Last summer free house restaurant. Took along a bottle of Southern Comfort thinking others would want some, did they ..... No...... an hour later and 75cl of Southern Comfort and one pizza to the good and we went to a bar, 2 double vodka Red Bulls and a pint of Stella then onto a night club, some sort of concoction and wammo memory goes.

    Wake up feeling fine have a wnak go to the shower 2 mins in and smack hangover hits me like a diamond bullet to the mind, spend the next half hour shivering and holding my head while groaning crouched under the hot shower.

    Drag my ass down to the office grabbing a pre-cooked pack of 10 chicken legs for breakfast, get into office, CSM "where the fook have you been? now fook off and get a brew on" offer him a chicken leg and "fook" off to make a brew.

    Come back teas in hand, CSM has munched all the chicken legs complains that they were a bit greasy I sit down at desk and start tapping away at the keyboard, no breakfast one cup of tea and my head feels like someone is prepping it for a game of Kerplunk.
  7. on arrival back to my unit after being leased away to another for op telic, most of the familiar faces had gone and were changed with eager beer fuelled animals, after 7 months off the booze, and a healthy mix of all the stuff i had been longing to taste again that night. i found myself balancing half on half off a bridge puking my guts up. then in a flash wandering the streets gobbing off at the shadows and mannequins in the shops. my mates rescued me and brought me to another bar....me willing to prove my drinking prowess lead the way..... the rest is a blur

    the herfy hangover was magnified by 10 the next day just as a reminder not to be such a silly boy

    for some reason herforder single handedly manages to pack 3 horny triceratops and a pallet of razorwire in the inside of my head just in time for my hangover.

  8. went to cuba on holiday in 2003 on an all inclusive holiday. Of course this meant all you can drink as well, so started of quitley with some canadians and drank the entire contents of the cocktail list between 11am and 4pm. Got acouple of hours kip and headed back down to continue. In the evening moved onto shots and was doing fine untill someone shouts "tequila time". This envolved doing 10 shots racing against each other. Did the shots, and about half an hour later they came straight back out. Dont really remeber much after that, but woke up the next morning lying in a hammock and soaking wet (reckon i must have fallen in the pool). That day had a windsurfing session i couldnt get out of, spent most the time falling of my board as could barley stand.

    overall a very productive evening :D rest of holiday followed pretty much the same pattern.
  9. Saif Sareea II, after getting hatracked on bottles of free red wine, my oppo woke me up at 0900 in the morning in the 18x24 with the temp around 35 degrees. I hadn't bothered to close my mozzie net so the cookhouse flies were getting their fill. Only water around was luke warm and I was supposed to be at work for 0630. It was the worst hangover ever. There was more moisture in the sand than in my body, it took about 2 days to rehydrate.
  10. Mate's birthday. Can't remember quantities but it involved lager, real ale, bitter, cider, more cider, whiskey (straight and on rocks) and vodka shots (apple sour????)
    In car on way home all I can remember is eating skittles, obviously I decided they'd sober me up. Got home, spent 3 hours throwing up, shivering on the floor, passing out against the toilet (well, my explanation for the bruise on my head) and then made it to bed somehow.
    Up at 7am feeling rotten as anything, went through the day trying to pretend my head wasn't the size of china. My eyes, neck, back, head, knees, the lot, everything hurt and ached. My stomach was doing strange things, resulting in some nasty emissions.
    By the afternoon it's worse, I've given up and want to die, next thing I know I've been volunteered to take a parade followed by drill practice, out on parade square at the start of feb ( -somethingsillydegrees) bawling out orders, wincing everytime as my CO eyes me suspiciously
  11. Auld-Yin

    Auld-Yin LE Reviewer Book Reviewer Reviews Editor

    In the days when alcohol was alcohol and I was young (OK not this century) I was called in to 'discuss' my first report in my 2066, having made substantive full screw that year. No warning of said 'discussion' as the report had already been written!

    However, the night before had been, while not quite a 'do' in the Cpls' Mess, it was at least liquid.

    So there was I, young, eager, 'discussing' my performance, when I felt the dreaded "cold sweat" starting. :cry: I knew (from past experience) that the clock was now ticking and the remaining contents of my stomach, including the breakfast I had enjoyed whilst still under the affluence, was about to see the light of day again.

    That was the longest half hour I have had to date, and I am sure that my RO was enjoying the schadenfreude(sp?).

    I just made it out to the back of the offices before breakfast met grass.

    For some reason unbeknownst to me, the word 'sober' did not appear in my next 2066!

    Still as that old Roman/Greek/Whatever said "That which does not destroy me, makes me stronger"

    Right - who's on the beers?
  12. Pah! You wimps! It's not a hangover unless you wake up in hospital! ;) If they give you those dear little paper bowls to be sick in- make sure you do. I made the mistake of opting for the sink, collapsed and broke my front tooth. Came round shaking with nursey holding the paper bowl and tsking at me!

    Last hangover on Sunday after a rugby 'do'. Woke up in my lovely dress in a bed on my own- result I thought! Alas, until after I had consumed the breakfast and crisps. 3:30pm walked into Guildford train station to get the bus- alas, had to say goodbye to lunch before getting the train. Right outside the station. Classy. Spent the whole journey to London in the toilet puking for England. Especially nice when people start banging on the door. I did feel sorry for the two guys with bikes who had to sit outside as it was the only spot- my appologies! Only collapsed a couple of times! Bruises on arms, head and knees.

    Worst is when you are on the tube and sweating because you are concentrating so hard on not being sick! Made it to Kings Cross to puke by the telephone. Then spent all the journey up as far as Wakefield either on the floor of the train or being sick in the toilet. 6 hours of quality time chatting to God down the great white telephone. 8)
  13. Abroad every time! :evil:

    1. Japan. Got wasted on the flight free booze, the 12 hours after landing were a blur and I sobered up vomiting noodles on a bullet-train platform after somehow managing to get close to my destination. I then sprayed chunks whilst alighting from a bus at a rural village.

    2. Spain. After a NATO conference (a jolly), the plane was delayed from taking off as I sprayed the bowl with the residue of red wine in the toilet accompanied to an indignant tannoy from the flight deck and a flight attendant battering on the door.

    Best smug non-hangover :twisted: :

    1. Children in Need night with a charity bash at the all ranks bar. I stayed away because I knew I would end up in trouble. Next day, during a major exercise during JMC (bunker command post type of thing), no-one on duty was in a fit state (much chunder in the toilets) and the entire unit was b0llocked by the training officer (the only other sober person). The CO reprimanded all officers by letter (not me :D ) whilst apologising at the same time for not setting an appropriate example.
  14. Auld-Yin

    Auld-Yin LE Reviewer Book Reviewer Reviews Editor

    Well what else could you offer for Engerland! :twisted:
  15. Oh god the memory.

    To this day I don't know what they put in a Brandy Sour, but i know it doesn't taste of brandy, more like chocolate as I remember. As a lifelong beer drinker I had never even drunk spirits, ever. I had tasted the stuff once, but thought if I wanted to drink something that tasted like petrol then I'd go out to the shed and drain the mower, I certainly wouldn't pay about a tenner for a pint of the foul smelling stuff.

    Until Cyprus that is. When one night the Brandy Sours were being poured out by the half pint for about 35 pence each and tasted, I thought, rather nice. I started to drink. And drink. And drink. Like a lifelong beer drinker in fact, with a fresh one about every twenty minutes. Not a very good idea at all.

    The end of the night didn't happen, at least I don't remember it happening. In the early hours however, I was woken by a strange splashing noise that I tried to ignore for as long as possible. Eventually, reluctantly, I forced my eyes open to find that I was standing on the other side of my room with my todger in hand and several pints of what had been Brandy Sour splashing, with some vigour, all over the nicely tiled floor only a couple of feet from my room-mate's snoring face (sorry Jock).

    I staggered back to bed, feeling the first signs of regret as I noticed the time was about 4.45 am, and feeling like any idiot would who had for the first time in his life not only taken spirits, but taken enough to float the Ark Royal, and was now about to die slowly and in great pain. I consoled myself that the next day was a Saturday and I was off duty. Thank god.

    I was indeed off duty that day. What I had forgotten though, was that being the warry, 'volunteer for anything if there's a badge at the end of it', fool that I was, I'd volunteered a few weeks before for the inter-UN, over the mountains march, that started that very morning at about 5am....

    Minutes later, just as I'd fallen back to sleep, the door crashed open, cruel cold daylight rushed in. A very young and very angry 2ic was shaking me and shouting that I needed to get my arrse out of bed and down to the transport where everybody else was waiting for me. Now!

    Jock was finding something funny from his nice snug bed and I remember wishing that my aim had been a little bit more to the left...

    Somehow I got the right limbs into the right garments and staggered outside to where, luckily, the 2ic was waiting with the Rover. Just as I raised the bergan to chuck it in the back, and even that hurt, the b@stard delivered the final blow..."fcuk off, you can run down to the transport!" Oh lordy....

    Back of a wagon, bumping over the ruts, feeling the sickness rise and ebb, as I drank water to ease what was the mother of all thirsts. The day was getting brighter and hotter by the minute, and I really wasn't a very well teddy. By the time we arrived at the start point, we were only just in time, which of course was my fault. Because we were late though I didn't get a chance to refill my water bottle after having already drained it in the back of the four tonner. My head felt like all of those dark chaps from Zulu were inside and trying to bang their way out, I was on the verge of bringing up at least a litre of water and I was still massively dehydrated with a thirst that could kill and was probably going to. I was also facing a 50 mile (km?), two day march over the mountains in the middle of a Cypriot summer with a big heavy thing on my back. Mmmm, lovely.

    Suddenly, salvation appeared. As our little group passed through a small village at about 6am, one of the locals, bless him, was opening his corner shop. I managed to dive in unseen and with the few notes in my pocket, buy just about all the liquid he had. I distinctly remember buying about three litres of milk, a lot of water and some yogurt (Yes, I know, why the yoghurt?).

    Over the course of the day, I gradually improved and was even almost alive when the 2ic wandered up to tell me that he was probably going to charge me for being late. It was a fair cop and I wasn't surprised. He never did though, mainly because the next day he cocked up in an really big way and my misdemeanour was forgotten.

    I stick to beer now. 8)