Saturday, February 21, 2009

Recipie for disaster.. the work party.

Take one work do, add a pinch of drinking at your desk since 11am, stir it up and sprinkle with some light urinating in the ladies toilets. Allow to simmer and remove from the heat to cool. While it sets, prepare some buttocks on a photocopier. Once ready, pin the resulting pictures to the walls and continue to flirt with every girl in the office at 220 degrees Celsius. When (forcibly) removed from office, continue to drink in the basement toilets and then dust with the powder of a fresh ‘wrapping your entire body in toilet roll’. The next stage requires drinking and shouting on the lawn in front of the office until some scared tourists accidentally cross your path. Remove self from the oven of potential arrest and slide into a pre-heated Luas. Once on Luas, reduce heat and cover, but crack open some bottles of Duvel and act menacingly. Do not allow to boil or get agro with inspector. Remind your Hungarian, Slovakian and Lithuanian employees that they are guests in this country and pouring beer on other passengers is against our culture. Prepare some green beans in butter, on a low heat.

Remove posse from Luas, and walk immediately into a rickshaw. Gently prise open skin on forehead until the blood runs pink. Immediately separate from the sane members of your team and board the wrong bus. Lightly pepper fellow passengers with loud singing and crotch grabbing. Cover and disembark, further from destination than when starting and gently roll a taxi. Arrive shortly afterwards at best friend’s mother’s birthday party with two of your gang still alive and proceed to enter pub like a visiting scud missile. Flirt at medium heat with best friend’s cousin, grab his father in headlock. Once browned, proceed to dance like a priest in an over ambitious altar boys dormitory. Heat plates. Shake, bake, and embarrass your own father into calling you the next day to say how ashamed he is of you. Try not to remember a thing at this stage, as the memory of talking to your best friend’s wife’s parents (and your ex’s) might cause unnecessary burning. Leave pub like Roy Keane in Saipan, and attempt to have sexual relations with the bonnet of the taxi carrying your besties visiting uncle. Flip, and reduce to a low flame, head home. Once home, visit local take-away and order curry chips. Vigorously empty onto the pavement and eat at once. Avoid the gravelly bits to avert immediate dentist visit.

Prepare a salad, and wait for the calls the next morning...

*EDIT: Just heard that I arrived through the door and shouted 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY EVERYBODY'. More to follow probably..

4 comments:

biddy said...

is it a family trait that we must shame ourselves on work nights out?, but i have to say...you have made my friday night pale in comparison, so thank you very much. I think i actually may go to work in the morning

Fakey said...

yep.

that's pretty accurate.

PS. Stay away from my family.

National Disgrace said...

I'll have you all know that I have been informed that I have very picturesque buttocks.. The photocopier has been retired though. Who would have known that they could suffer 'trauma'..

The Other Side Of The Coin said...

I have no idea how much of that is hyperbole but I fairly sure I should never have left Dublin...really!!!