Squaddies trying to behave like proper people

[Retired bloke]

Weddings are always great for mixing civvies with squaddies, with universally disastrous results.

One of my mates from Aldershot had somehow persuaded a girl that didn't look like Jocky Wilson in a wig, to marry him. She truly was a few steps up from the usual fare and when all her family turned up at the church, it was apparent that they had a few bob and were not overly impressed with their daughters choice of husband. Pity they didn't get to choose the best man either.

He picked a complete heed-the-ball from the line shack to do the honours. We were all on the standard squaddies table at the reception. The one nearest the exit door, between the bogs and the kitchen, at the furthest possible point from the bride. When our man got up to do his best mans speech, he sent off the first warning signal to her family, by shouting, at parade ground volume,

"You lot on the back table, keep the fcuking noise down."

As he started his speech they were already looking alarmed. He put his hand on his wifes shoulder and said,

"Before I launch into my speech, i've got a small announcement to make. Helen has told me to expect to started washing a few nappies."

"Aaaaaahhhh," they all said, perhaps he isn't horrible after all. He continued,

"Apparently all the muscles in her arrse have packed up."

I found it funny, as did my ten mates, but there were 140 people their, with 130 not laughing, the miserable c-unts.

He finished off, with what is, to this date, the most inappropriate wedding anecdote i've ever heard.

"I'm having a lovely day, so i'll finish with this little story (mass groan). Everyone in the block knows that Pete's got smelly feet, but last year it got ridiculous. The smell was killing us. After a week of threats, we couldn't get him to change his socks, so had to take drastic action. We moved all his bedspace in the drying room and made him live there. He lost 40lbs in three days. But blow me down, the smell didn't go away. It turned out that it wasn't Pete after all......... Someone had had a sh-it, in one of the empty lockers, and it had gone off."

I had to be given oxygen. The brides mum had a face like John Prescotts arrse.

Yes, i know its 16 years old, but it had me giggling for ages, classic.

 

[instinct]

Only 10 years out.

Try again shippers.

Fair one but I only discovered it much later!

 

[colinmc400]

Fraid i have to dob myself on this one, for i did try to behave like a proper person and failed badly! First job as a civvy and had only been there @4weeks and got invited to the Company xmas do, at the Brighton Centre. The company were picking up the tab for the whole weekend, including accommodation etc, but importantly not the ale. At the last minute they had a few people bale out and offered the places to anyone else to bring guests, all still FOC. My folks dived in and decided a weekend in Brighton buck shee was a right result, so off we goes in my company car.

Now all the guys who had been to the Event centre before, said it was horribly expensive for beer, so i hatched a 2 pronged pincer attack on my sobriety.

1. A 1/2 bottle of Smirnoff was secreted about the wifes person, well in her handbag, for quaffing purposes later.
2. Smash a load of wife beater down my gullet in the pub next door, before going to the do.

Things are going fabulously and i am the model of restraint, getting about the other tables and making myself known to all my new colleagues, whilst only slowly slurping the odd pint or two. The pints must have looked never ending, as i kept topping them up from the secret stash in the wifes handbag.

The façade of normality started to wear off when the turn showed up on stage, it was Duncan Norville of the Chase me Chase me catchphrase. The Brighton centre has like an upstairs, sort of balcony thing and one too many "chase me chase me's" from the stage and i am leaning over the balcony getting stuck into Dunc's, "oi you queer fark, put another record on, your patter is shite" etc etc. Now i believed i had the crowd in my hands and needed to work them for all they were worth, as i thought their gasps of horror, were chuckles of laughter- wrong! Pretty sure i reverted straight back to forces humour in 2 seconds flat and let Duncs know exactly what i and i assumed everyone else thought and likely it was not good. Eventually the wife pulls me away from the balcony and pushes me back into my seat and the faces of everyone else on the table was one of "what the hell is that" and no-one would make eye contact with me., including my own mother.

I proceeded to have more beer and polish off the secret stash, which really was not the smartest idea ever and to be honest, i was absolutely monged by this time. I then decided the people sat next to me needed to hear my best gags and leant over to share with them. I started to over balance on my chair and my wife proceeded to help me on my way and next thing i know i am lying on the floor, looking up at her by now very irate face. I was so fucked, i could not get back up and proceeded to give her the bad news whilst still flat out on the floor. That was the last straw and her and my folks packed up their stuff, made their apologies and left, leaving me still on the floor. I don't remember too much more until the following day, when i went to check out of the hotel and they were nowhere to be seen and were not answering their phones, but all their luggage was gone. I made my way back to Bristol on my own, to find the wife and folks had gotten the train home and all had a monumental strop on with me.

Come Monday morning and i was sure i was going to be sacked, so rather than wait for the call, i headed off to Haywards Heath, to jump before i was pushed. When i walked into the offices, there was lots of sniggering behind hands and pointing at the new guy and defo felt i was doing the walk of shame. Into the bosses office and i starts on the apology and offer to resign etc etc. The cnut made me squirm for what seemed like ages, but eventually he started smirking and says, "the fact you are here unprompted means you know what you did was serious and was not behaviour becoming one of our staff etc etc. BUT we all make mistakes and you have had your one chance. Go home and make sure it doesn't happen again". Red faced i made my way out, relieved to have survived.

Now i managed to keep things under control at work for 3 years, until another xmas do in a hotel in Bournemouth and to be honest, there were worse goings on than i had managed in Brighton. There was some serious amount of booze consumed and one other guys wife made my ranting at Duncan Norville seem tame. There were broken windows and fire hoses being let off and she had a wail of time. She did a great job of taking the pressure off me and very few were made aware of the fact that i had been found by the hotel management, bollock naked in one of the corridors, having pissed all over the floor of said corridor, having locked myself out of my room. My wife had no idea about that one!!

 

[naguere]

Was staying with my newly re-married and housed brother and wife. She didnât like me-still doesnât!Mum had told me to be on my best behaviour!! Well, after dinner my brother & I got laid into the claret in a big way - it never agrees with me.
3 oâclock in the morning, pitch black in my unfamiliar bedroom, desperately need a pee. Crawl round the room trying to find door. Give up! Small sash windows @ about the right height. Curtains open, open & hold open the window with left hand fingers, sort of squat down & in the middle of a serious wizz the bloody window slides down trapping said fingers. B*ll*ck naked and it needs two hands to open so call out for brother! âWhat the fecks going on?â as the light goes on to find me trapped, naked & pissing all over the new sister-in-lawâs prized family photo collection, all neatly shelved on the window ledge.
Couldnât even get my coat and the next day-WELL!!!

Bin there, done that,

 

[ste14w]

Ace of spades behind the WEINBERG

I once got thrown through the main entrance window of the Weinberg down Bergen by a couple of Welsh Guards.
Bloody good night that was.

 

[Toastie]

Having left the Regulars in 89 and the TA in 98, I consider(ed) myself pretty much a de- militarised zone. But like dogshit in the treads of trainers, you never can quite get rid of it all. The following tale of woe is pretty tame by the standards of the above stories but it goes to show the pathetic levels of “ready to be offended, particularly on behalf of someone else” that pass for civi workplaces these days.

A couple of years ago I was teaching a course. On it were a couple of lads and lasses who were acting up a bit but as it was injecting a bit of humour into the room full of people that wanted to be anywhere else but an annual, deeply dull mandatory update course, I let it slide. Then they pushed it a bit far so I decided to wind them in a bit, at which the dogshit in the trainers made its presence known....

”Listen guys, we need to get this done. You’ll be in your own time before we finish so, up to you, I’m in no rush, my wife’s ugly and I’ve got salad for dinner”.

Yes, really.

Cue much mirth, the point was taken and we got the job done.

Two days later it transpired that one of those on the course was the Assistant Deputy to the Deputy Assistant Deputy Manager of Something Or Other and he had complained that I’d made “the whole course very uncomfortable”. Real Managers then got involved and to a wo/man they just laughed it off as “just your style Toastie, it kept people engaged and got the job done”.

Then HR got involved. Apparently I’d committed a crime under some policy of theirs that carried the potential sanction of dismissal. Jobs in my field are very hard to come by and because of the way it’s structured, I’d essentially be looking at starting at the bottom again in another company losing 23 years of my life in the process. They inevitably botched the investigation with many complaining of the intimidatory nature of the questioning and the upshot was it dragged on for months. I ended up being signed off with stress for the best part of a year.

I was stripped of my training position that cost me £10s of thousands and given a 1 year written warning. I may as well have taught them The Dance Of The Flaming *********.

 

[beefer]

Having left the Regulars in 89 and the TA in 98, I consider(ed) myself pretty much a de- militarised zone. But like dogshit in the treads of trainers, you never can quite get rid of it all. The following tale of woe is pretty tame by the standards of the above stories but it goes to show the pathetic levels of “ready to be offended, particularly on behalf of someone else” that pass for civi workplaces these days.

A couple of years ago I was teaching a course. On it were a couple of lads and lasses who were acting up a bit but as it was injecting a bit of humour into the room full of people that wanted to be anywhere else but an annual, deeply dull mandatory update course, I let it slide. Then they pushed it a bit far so I decided to wind them in a bit, at which the dogshit in the trainers made its presence known....

”Listen guys, we need to get this done. You’ll be in your own time before we finish so, up to you, I’m in no rush, my wife’s ugly and I’ve got salad for dinner”.

Yes, really.

Cue much mirth, the point was taken and we got the job done.

Two days later it transpired that one of those on the course was the Assistant Deputy to the Deputy Assistant Deputy Manager of Something Or Other and he had complained that I’d made “the whole course very uncomfortable”. Real Managers then got involved and to a wo/man they just laughed it off as “just your style Toastie, it kept people engaged and got the job done”.

Then HR got involved. Apparently I’d committed a crime under some policy of theirs that carried the potential sanction of dismissal. Jobs in my field are very hard to come by and because of the way it’s structured, I’d essentially be looking at starting at the bottom again in another company losing 23 years of my life in the process. They inevitably botched the investigation with many complaining of the intimidatory nature of the questioning and the upshot was it dragged on for months. I ended up being signed off with stress for the best part of a year.

I was stripped of my training position that cost me £10s of thousands and given a 1 year written warning. I may as well have taught them The Dance Of The Flaming *********.

Why am I not surprised.

Luckily in my world on the North Sea most of the guys were ex forces and knew the score. Stand fast the Crabs though.

 

[JackSofty]

Just bearing in mind the thread title, I'm giving it up as a bad job.


Sent from my karzi while losing several pounds

 

[TheSockPuppet]

Having left the Regulars in 89 and the TA in 98, I consider(ed) myself pretty much a de- militarised zone. But like dogshit in the treads of trainers, you never can quite get rid of it all. The following tale of woe is pretty tame by the standards of the above stories but it goes to show the pathetic levels of “ready to be offended, particularly on behalf of someone else” that pass for civi workplaces these days.

A couple of years ago I was teaching a course. On it were a couple of lads and lasses who were acting up a bit but as it was injecting a bit of humour into the room full of people that wanted to be anywhere else but an annual, deeply dull mandatory update course, I let it slide. Then they pushed it a bit far so I decided to wind them in a bit, at which the dogshit in the trainers made its presence known....

”Listen guys, we need to get this done. You’ll be in your own time before we finish so, up to you, I’m in no rush, my wife’s ugly and I’ve got salad for dinner”.

Yes, really.

Cue much mirth, the point was taken and we got the job done.

Two days later it transpired that one of those on the course was the Assistant Deputy to the Deputy Assistant Deputy Manager of Something Or Other and he had complained that I’d made “the whole course very uncomfortable”. Real Managers then got involved and to a wo/man they just laughed it off as “just your style Toastie, it kept people engaged and got the job done”.

Then HR got involved. Apparently I’d committed a crime under some policy of theirs that carried the potential sanction of dismissal. Jobs in my field are very hard to come by and because of the way it’s structured, I’d essentially be looking at starting at the bottom again in another company losing 23 years of my life in the process. They inevitably botched the investigation with many complaining of the intimidatory nature of the questioning and the upshot was it dragged on for months. I ended up being signed off with stress for the best part of a year.

I was stripped of my training position that cost me £10s of thousands and given a 1 year written warning. I may as well have taught them The Dance Of The Flaming *********.

I'd look at legal action. You've done nothing wrong, they couldn't prove anything anyway and you've dipped out financially and in health terms.

It looks like someone has it in for you and has gone down the line of vexatious complaints to try and de-throne you. Mud sticks.

Take the bastards to court.

 

[Waldeck]

Weddings are a good place to show your stuff.

I was best man at my cousins wedding. Near the end of the night I decided it would be a good idea to put the ball cock of the urinal in the honeymoon bed, as you do. Not knowing that there was no ball cock (it was some automatic thingy) I was hanging on the tank trying to find the bloody thing when the whole lot came off the wall shiny copper pipe and all. Did a number on my rented suit, apart from the water there was a lot of green stuff. My uncle was a bit pissed off, still hasn't forgiven me and he's been dead for 15 years.

Ended up just leaving a rose and a bog roll in the bed. Getting into their room was another story in it self.

We use to call Civies; English Humans or German Humans depending where we were, not sure what we called them in France.

 

[EddieVDog]

Ah Canada, my first trip in 86 and crab air break down at Gander, now that place makes Kirkwall look lively. Anyway the advert said "Drink Canada Dry!" I tried honestly. I reckon they kept smuggling it across the border!

Gander! What a place! Had a stopover there on our way down to PR for a job. Pagers went, job on! Caribbean you say? Break out the Bermuda shorts and Hawaiian Shirt then...Flew crab air out of Brize and got told we'd be overnighting in Gander...Newfoundland......in November. Place was six foot deep in snow and I Sh1t you not, there was a moose of the four legged variety walking down the main strip. Every other building was a bar and every one was a strip joint during the day. The crabs nicknamed the hotel we were in 'Hotel pick-a-fcuk'......as a bunch of handsome young frogmen, we couldn't fail. Brought some filly back to our room and as we were getting busy, she says'will your friend hear us?' 'nah, he's asleep I replied.....'Oh no I'm not' he says.....tw4t

 

[Rapierman]

I don't know if I posted this earlier in the thread, however . One time I was invited to a Christmas do with my wife who is a teacher and all the staff and husbands/wives of. I was not keen from the outset. Of then only then she said oh so and so's fella is coming, he is ex army too so you will have someone to talk to.
Yes he was, soon as she mentioned the name, he was in the intake before me in Brat school and we had shared many drunken escapades, later on pitched up in Kirton in about 95 and obviously settled up here.
Back to the do, I had not seen the guy for about ten years. Sandbags pulled up and lamps a swinging. Oh and beer flowing like a river with the odd couple of cheeky JD's in the mix............Now apparently dancing half naked to that "time of your life" tune from dirty dancing is not acceptable behaviour at a teachers do!
We were howling outside having a cig when two rather angry ladies came out... we were still laughing. It was a quiet taxi ride home.

 

[sirbhp]

Having left the Regulars in 89 and the TA in 98, I consider(ed) myself pretty much a de- militarised zone. But like dogshit in the treads of trainers, you never can quite get rid of it all. The following tale of woe is pretty tame by the standards of the above stories

recently I saw a post on facebook and the last poster was a chap on here : the question was
What my mum made the best ......
Looking at the boring answers and trying to add a bit of levity to the forum i wrote;
A CORPSE .

Off I toddled on to be berated by my sister for being an animal (mum croaked two years ago )
It wasn't a military Forum it was just co incidence that a squaddie answered just before me . doh.

 

[Rapierman]

I don't know if I posted this earlier in the thread, however . One time I was invited to a Christmas do with my wife who is a teacher and all the staff and husbands/wives of. I was not keen from the outset. Of then only then she said oh so and so's fella is coming, he is ex army too so you will have someone to talk to.
Yes he was, soon as she mentioned the name, he was in the intake before me in Brat school and we had shared many drunken escapades, later on pitched up in Kirton in about 95 and obviously settled up here.
Back to the do, I had not seen the guy for about ten years. Sandbags pulled up and lamps a swinging. Oh and beer flowing like a river with the odd couple of cheeky JD's in the mix............Now apparently dancing half naked to that "time of your life" tune from dirty dancing is not acceptable behaviour at a teachers do!
We were howling outside having a cig when two rather angry ladies came out... we were still laughing. It was a quiet taxi ride home.

It is true though, civvies do not get the mindset one bit, you try your hardest to explain and you may as well be talking Swahili. It's the old "Right lad's best behaviour" sketch. Not a bloody chance. The thought is there for a split second then chaos ensues! It is a cast iron guarantee and hopefully one that never leaves.

 

[EddieVDog]

recently I saw a post on facebook and the last poster was a chap on here : the question was
What my mum made the best ......
Looking at the boring answers and trying to add a bit of levity to the forum i wrote;
A CORPSE .

Off I toddled on to be berated by my sister for being an animal (mum croaked two years ago )
It wasn't a military Forum it was just co incidence that a squaddie answered just before me . doh.

lol, saw that same post and added 'porn films'.............

 

[Big Jim]

Belting!!

emmmm.....rather

 

[shadowonarun]

It is true though, civvies do not get the mindset one bit, you try your hardest to explain and you may as well be talking Swahili. It's the old "Right lad's best behaviour" sketch. Not a bloody chance. The thought is there for a split second then chaos ensues! It is a cast iron guarantee and hopefully one that never leaves.

I find you can sort the military from the non military amongst people I know by their reaction to the tale of the time I shat myself in Asda whilst wearing my best suit. Squaddies tend to laugh and tell you about their experinces of following through, non squaddies look shocked then nauseous then tend to sidle off never to return.
The only time I was wrong it turned out the bloke laughing had been playing in the front row for about twenty years.

 

[MrBane]

I think sufficient time has passed for this.

I attend a conference every year, where possible. CT Expo and World Counter Terror Congress in Olympia.

Because I am a big bluffing ****, every year I've gone I've been VIP. This means free proper scran and free hospitality at the end of day booze up.

Circa 2015. I'm putting on the good show of what I do. I'm sitting in various speaker talks and asking cutting questions. I'm meeting vendors and industry specialists. I'm being very, *******, charming.

I sniff out some ex-squaddies who have a stand for their own CT business and we get chatting..all good. Agree to meet up at post day drinks.

Come 1600hrs, drinks are out. I meet up with these chaps and start drinking red and white wine, and beer.

1700hrs there's me, these two ex-mobs, an Israeli Minister who did something about defence, an MP, some First Sea Boaty Admiral guy all stood, half cut, talking shit. The Israeli guy was trying to do a race with the wine, and I and one of the CT lads had started swiping full bottles of wine from the bar.

1800hrs, I suddenly decide to depart. That drunken, '**** it, I'm going home.'.

I head downstairs, and realise I can barely walk. I stagger through empty corridors and find a toilet.

Eventually sort myself out and stagger outside into the London night. Collapse in a quiet heap in a corner before staggering into an unsuspecting taxi. Back to the Hilton, I'm rambling shite and realise I have no wallet. Or folder with all my stuff in it. Plead mercy with the taxi driver as he's driving who ******* fair play, says that's fine and thanks me for being honest. Drops me at the hotel, where I can't get up the lift as I've lost my room key. Babble to management who actually put me to bed because I was so ******* wrecked.

Wake up next morning..my suit is covered in vom.... Where's my stuff.... Oh ****.....

Straight to venue for second day in casual clothing. Head in to reception, last night flooding back to me..as I'm walking along, I see on the side of a wall a wee alcove and there's my folder. I grab it just as a woman comes out the office.

"Can I help you?" She says, and she sounds pissed. I think with the speed only a guilty squaddie (ex by then) can.

"No, it's fine, it's a bit weird. I was chatting last night and someone bumped in to me and I didn't realise until the end that they must have taken my folder. Seemed really drunk."

She stares at me with a look that would have turned a lesser man to stone.

"Someone took your folder?"

"Yes, I don't know what was going on. I ended up having to walk back as my wallet was in there too."

She's still staring at me.

"Well, someone came in here last night and there is vomit everywhere in the staff toilet. The poor cleaners are refusing to clean it up. It's disgusting."

"Oh, that's horrible! It must've been the person who took my folder!"

******* hell, she showed me, and it was like an explosion. Up the walls, down the cubicle sides..******* hell.

Quality night.

I've shown more restraint since then, though the last time included a couple of lads from ARRSE who I got in on VIP as well. It ended with a ring of steel from security and blue flashing lights...
This is not an exaggeration.

 

[Ian525]

I think sufficient time has passed for this.

I attend a conference every year, where possible. CT Expo and World Counter Terror Congress in Olympia.

Because I am a big bluffing ****, every year I've gone I've been VIP. This means free proper scran and free hospitality at the end of day booze up.

Circa 2015. I'm putting on the good show of what I do. I'm sitting in various speaker talks and asking cutting questions. I'm meeting vendors and industry specialists. I'm being very, *******, charming.

I sniff out some ex-squaddies who have a stand for their own CT business and we get chatting..all good. Agree to meet up at post day drinks.

Come 1600hrs, drinks are out. I meet up with these chaps and start drinking red and white wine, and beer.

1700hrs there's me, these two ex-mobs, an Israeli Minister who did something about defence, an MP, some First Sea Boaty Admiral guy all stood, half cut, talking shit. The Israeli guy was trying to do a race with the wine, and I and one of the CT lads had started swiping full bottles of wine from the bar.

1800hrs, I suddenly decide to depart. That drunken, '**** it, I'm going home.'.

I head downstairs, and realise I can barely walk. I stagger through empty corridors and find a toilet.

Eventually sort myself out and stagger outside into the London night. Collapse in a quiet heap in a corner before staggering into an unsuspecting taxi. Back to the Hilton, I'm rambling shite and realise I have no wallet. Or folder with all my stuff in it. Plead mercy with the taxi driver as he's driving who ******* fair play, says that's fine and thanks me for being honest. Drops me at the hotel, where I can't get up the lift as I've lost my room key. Babble to management who actually put me to bed because I was so ******* wrecked.

Wake up next morning..my suit is covered in vom.... Where's my stuff.... Oh ****.....

Straight to venue for second day in casual clothing. Head in to reception, last night flooding back to me..as I'm walking along, I see on the side of a wall a wee alcove and there's my folder. I grab it just as a woman comes out the office.

"Can I help you?" She says, and she sounds pissed. I think with the speed only a guilty squaddie (ex by then) can.

"No, it's fine, it's a bit weird. I was chatting last night and someone bumped in to me and I didn't realise until the end that they must have taken my folder. Seemed really drunk."

She stares at me with a look that would have turned a lesser man to stone.

"Someone took your folder?"

"Yes, I don't know what was going on. I ended up having to walk back as my wallet was in there too."

She's still staring at me.

"Well, someone came in here last night and there is vomit everywhere in the staff toilet. The poor cleaners are refusing to clean it up. It's disgusting."

"Oh, that's horrible! It must've been the person who took my folder!"

******* hell, she showed me, and it was like an explosion. Up the walls, down the cubicle sides..******* hell.

Quality night.

I've shown more restraint since then, though the last time included a couple of lads from ARRSE who I got in on VIP as well. It ended with a ring of steel from security and blue flashing lights...
This is not an exaggeration.

Proud of you upholding the honour of her majesty's armed forces

 

[Proff3RTR]

I am now 51 years young, and so all would think in total control of my bodily functions and such like, well that's what I thought until the following happened.
A few months ago was invited around one of the boys houses for a section piss up, 'nice one' says I, gets a leave pas from SWMBO and a small beer allowance and off I goes, all chuffed and looking forward to getting upside down and having a good crack with the boys. All is going well, ale getting quaffed at a rapid rate of knots, old stories about life in Germany coming out and such like, then one of the turbo mongs brings out the home brew! now at this point I want to point out I like home brew, really do, how ever, when mixed with a large quantity of 'wife beater' and schnapps it does not mix well, also add to the fact a still serving idiot who thinks he is still 21 and not 51 it did not bode well. at some point in the proceedings I decided to call it a day, half a mile walk home up a main road and pass Tescoe and the local car show room. It was apparently sometime around 6pm (found this out from my wife the next day) when I was seen by the couple next door swaying down the road past Tesco, I was at this point in need it would appear of the toilet (number 2 typre) they then observed me trying to sit on a wall that ran around the edge of the car show room (small thing, couple of feet high) where I proceeded to drop my Bermuda shorts (yes I know, call the fashion police) and let rip a very messy and totally over the top damn buster of a surface layed bar mine.
I was clearly oblivious to all of this being totally bat faced and intent on the following
1. having a clear out &
2. getting home with the inbuilt homing GPS

The next morning all was I thought rather well, not much of a hang over as I opened my eye lids open, felt pretty good. Walked down stairs to see Mrs Proff3RTR sat with a face like thunder on her, she then proceeds to enlighten me as to my shenanigan's through town and also what I got up to when I got home.
Her AAR was not good, waddled home finally, hammered on the door as I could not get my keys into the lock, Mrs Proff3RTR opened the door to find me stood there, stinking of crap, crap all over the back of my legs and Bermudas, in and on my flip flops and a stupid grin on my face, I then or I should say apparently walked all through the front room dragging this un-godly mess and stink through the house and onto the front room carpet and proceeded to tear into the fridge for post drinkies munchies, after which I fell asleep at the kitchen table. I do not know how I got into our bed, or how I got cleaned up but next door have never and I mean never looked at me the same way ever since, and the dog keeps running away from me for some reason.

can't see the problem myself