Rikaitch's story of mirth and woe

In my younger days as a rebellious type, I was a typical student of the early 90's with a serious overdraft and the need to alleviate it in any way possible (but in reality I needed beer money). Getting a job in a local nightclub in Scary's manor in Reading town centre, I used to find I had the inane ability to stomach things that most people wouldn't contemplate. No chewing other peoples chunks, but I would have done it maybe given the chance.

In a drunken state one Sunday afternoon with work colleagues in the Purple Turtle Bar we decided we would see who could come up with the worst cocktail. The usual Pernod and Black, Guinness and Coke and Black Russian were surpassed quickly for the more sinister Bailey's and Vodka, Advocaat and Lime (bleugh), and even (allegedly) someone's own bodily fluid later, and I came up with the suggestion of a pint of Postmix. The thick black gloopy liquid that is very watered down to make Coke. It's just a little sweet, and to be honest once you start drinking it, it's kinda hard to stop.

One pint later, and my teeth were itching when Cliff (not his real name I hasten to add, he knows who he is) decided he was going to do his party trick of having a poo there and then at the table. Dave the other bar manager decided it would be more fun if he laid under a glass table as this was done onto said surface... A delightful brown Mr. Whippy style cone of faeces was produced on the table surface and everyone was cheering loudly in the bar. Me, now a little worse for wear, decided to take advantage of the situation and moronic Dave, pulling faces under the glass table and even licking the glass surface, was horrified as I kicked the table, making the glass shatter and a load the Luftwaffe wouldn't have dropped landed squarely on his face. I'll never forget the oatmeal that seemed to be wedged up his nose.

I think I was the only person in the entire bar not wretching at that point... hehe... burn in hell? me???

---