Advantages It's funny
Disadvantages I'm a minger
***Before you go any further this op contains explicit language – easily offended? Don’t read any further! ***
So to my review I found this rather difficult to compile, ‘what? Mizzabitch hasn’t got 10 stories to tell?’ No Mizzabitch just doesn’t know which ten of thousands to share!1)Little Miss Pissy Knickers!
The last train home was always rammed, full to the gills we had to stand. I could see people I knew, friends of the family, even boys I quite fancied but too much cider had got the better of me and my bladder and Emma’s childish dare had to be seen through. So there I was standing next to a man in a suit, I kept bumping in to him because I was so drunk and then I did it! The piss started running down my legs over my lace tights on to my swede trainers and down the train floor all the way through the carriage. Steam rose, people stared, I didn’t flinch one bit nor did Emma, the man next to me looked horrified, the lady with her children utterly shocked. Our stop was at the end of the line and by the time we got off everyone was sniggering, Emma and me got off and I nearly wet myself again, this time through laughter.I told that story at work last week. Nobody really knew what to say.
The conversation was dishwater dull, Zak was enthralled by my commonness and made no qualms about it… It was getting tiresome. ‘Wow you went to state school and still managed to get a job at such a prestigious company’ Oh it was dull. He wasn’t a drinker so the champagne and wine on our table was mine, mine, mine! The food was the best ever and I have since dined in the splendid restaurant as a paying guest but Zak’s obnoxious attitude towards my ‘commonness’ was really starting to spoil my lobster. I don’t know what happened next but a champagne fuelled rage came over me and I stabbed Zak full force with my fork in the back of his hand.
2)I Stabbed The Posh Prick!
When I worked in London I worked quite closely with a lad whose father was worth millions. Our pittance of a salary was my livelihood; it was Zak’s pocket money. Zak had all the money I could only ever dream of but he was the most boring, un-insparational prick I have ever, ever met. Socialising in the music industry is second to none and I often found myself having free meals in swanky hotels on a weekly basis. On this occasion a group of us were invited to St Martin’s Lane Hotel, the idea being they would wine and dine us and we’d rave about the place to all the pop stars we looked after hence filling their hotel and restaurant with famous faces. On this occasion there was a seating plan and yup you guessed it I was sat next to Zak.
He shrieked! He jumped up and swore at me like only posh people can, I laughed, I so laughed but everyone in the restaurant was horrified. Was I ashamed? No not really I was too pissed to care!
I must apologise to the old bloke who left the cubicle next to ours looking like he was about to have a heart seizure! I also apologise to my mate who didn’t realise I was a horny cow when fed far too much cider! (Although I should add I didn’t hear him complain!) I chuckle to myself even now – imagine if we’d conceived a child, I often think I’d name my children in accordance to where they were conceived but not sure what I could come up with for this one!
By 3am my boyfriend still wasn’t back, everyone sat at the bar can only be described as legless and the hotel staff were refusing all of us any further alcohol. We’d drank everyone’s mini bar and we were convinced that we were done for but then I remember I had the key to my non-drinking boyfriend’s room. I took one of the young lads who worked for my boyfriend to one side and asked him to help me empty it. How we got up those stairs I’ll never know, unlocking the door was like a puzzle but we finally got in and started raiding the mini bar. Just as we’d stacked up the last of the champagne and beer the door swung open and there stood my rather irate, sober boyfriend. What do you do? You’re stood there robbing about £300 worth of booze from a man who has made it quite clear he wants you out of his life so I just screamed “One, two, three RUN!” and legged it dropping most of the beer and champagne as we went!I woke up the next day on the couch, my boyfriend didn’t speak, in fact it was a month before we spoke again and the incident was never really mentioned.
Now I couldn’t drink two bottles of cider even now and be standing upright so how the flying feck I thought I was gonna get down from this roof I don’t know! I just remember falling through a large hole. There were no floors in the upper rooms and I was swiftly falling towards the ground floor some 3 storeys down and then the luck of the gods must have struck me and someone caught me in their arms. It was man of about 25 years old who everyone was petrified of but after this I truly believe he saved my life. Everyone avoided him but after this I often sat and spoke to him, if it wasn’t for him I really do think I’d be pushing up daisies in a cemetery somewhere!
5) My Guardian Angel!
There is nothing I like more than a chilled pint of dry cider. I’ve been drinking cider since I was 14. Two bottles of Merrydown on a Friday night down the woods, oh those were the days! The woods we frequented were a superb hang out for any teenager as at the bottom of a driveway was a large, semi-derelict hotel. My best friend at school lost her virginity in the cellar and groups of boys could often be found glue sniffing behind the bar in what had been the grand ballroom, I think you get the picture! Anyway the roof was the best place to hang out and if the police did come around they were too scared to climb up and you were pretty much left to your own devices.
I woke early, feeling rather fresh, I jumped out of bed and fell flat on my face. My leg was a mangled mess. The pain was unbelievable and I have no recollection of what happened. I hop to breakfast where the gaps are soon filled in and by all accounts I think I fell down every flight of stairs in central Brum. My leg took 6 months to fully heal and I have a nice scar just to remind me of what a twat I was in Brum! If you wanna know more about this one I suggest you ask someone else who attended because I have a limited memory of the entire weekend.
I’ve met quite a few people from Ciao but whenever I meet someone new I do get a tad nervous. Birmingham September 2003 was no exception. I had just split with my partner, was feeling like shit and the thought of 30 or 40 strangers in a bar scared me so I bought one of those 3 litre boxes of wine. Half drunk by the time our train pulled in to Birmingham New Street by 6pm I was a bloody mess. My first fall was head over heels in to two non-Ciaoers standing at the bar in the pub we were frequenting. It was embarrassing but I was too wankered to care. Come 9pm I was a mess, no a real MESS! I remember being carried to my room by the lovely Deano76 and I fell asleep.
The bus was full so I sat on the stairs that led to the bunks. As the bus pulled round the corner I threw up absolutely everywhere. I managed to crawl away and sit in a corner minding my own business. 10 minutes later as we arrive at the hotel the bass player noticed the little pile of sick and went berserk. The fact that the band actually spent hours upon hours travelling on this bus I guess I did feel guilty but it was my birthday so I denied it. He still put a life long ban on me ever attending another Longpigs show again!
Do you remember that band The Longpigs? Musically they were okay but in interviews I always thought they were a bit full of themselves. A friend’s band got the support slot on their 1996 tour so we went to a few shows. On the night of my 22nd birthday they played in my home town and as it was my birthday my friends invited me to their hotel for drinks. After leaving the venue I was extremely pissed up, we’d been drinking tequila all night and as we got outside were invited on to The Longpigs tour bus as they knew we were heading back to their hotel.
Once in the hotel we sat in the lounge, I fell asleep everyone retired to someone’s room and I was left. I awake some hours later with 2 policemen on either side. I was rather dazed but they were insinuating I was a hooker, touting trade in the hotel. I explained my birthday situation and they organised a cab to take me home! A lucky escape!
After an hour or so we are both attempting to dance on the dancefloor a site only for sore eyes I’m sure. Before I know it he starts booting me on the dance floor! Everyone is horrified, shocked even but I cant move for laughter. I finally get up from the floor and we swiftly leave.We stagger around Soho for some time and before long my mate has rugby tackled me to the ground in an attempt to put a traffic cone over my head. Anyway we’re rolling around the floor when a couple stop and ask if we’d like to go home with them for a foursome! I think it took about an hour for us to stop laughing and finally pick ourselves off the pavement! How we weren’t arrested I’ll never know.
I’ll say it again – there was a free bar. Before the show the band were wandering about but I didn’t manage to catch the lad in question’s attention but a friend had offered to introduce me after the show. By the time the band came on I was utterly wasted, red wine and white wine just don’t mix! So by the time I was introduced all I could do was collapse at his feet – the rest is a blur.
9) They Wouldn’t Touch Me With A Barge Pole!
I know many of you think I’m a bit up my own arse but I was always brought up to believe nobody or nothing was ever too good for me. That included boys. A few years back I really fancied one of the lads form the boyband Five and was set on getting a date with him. When I was invited to a private, low key show they were doing in London’s Café De Paris I thought this would be my chance.
I awoke in my mate’s spare room and she howled with laughter. If we ever went on a night out Five records were always put on as a request for me, all I can say is I’m still utterly mortified!
Anyone who has met me will confirm - I have no airs and graces. Take me as I am! I'm a filthy mouthed piss head with a heart of gold. Seriously. If I'm not working I'm pissed, simple really!Anyway last year I was invited to a rather grand wedding... Or so we were told. I hate people who boast, as I said I'm more a 'what you see, what you get' type person. Anyway the wedding was talked up as a grand affair at all accounts and by the time the day arrived you'd have thought it was bloody Royalty getting wed...
So we turn up at the church and it strikes me that this is a 'fur coat, no knickers' occasion... All talk, no actual bravado. Then the fun really started and the day turns in to a 'them and us' kinda affair. To cut a long story short I was disgusted. These people didn’t know me nor my background and because I don’t speak with a mouth full or marbles thought I was scum.It was a horrible wedding, snooty people left right and centre! So yep! I got drunk on what I should add was the cheapest champagne I'd ever tasted. (It should be quality not quantity folks.) Anyway I got in to a drinking match with a stocky little bloke at our table... I lost. Thought I was okay until Andy introduced me to the Groom's father... I toppled over at his feet. Andy was mortified, I was out cold... Game over! Party over! 9pm I was stretchered home! Oh I nearly forgot…. I wasn’t actually wearing any knickers!So who’s deleting me form their COT after that little lot!
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