speed limiter

But how big is the bottle?

Value = (%ABV)*size/price.
So a 3l bottle of 7.5% cider for £2.49 has a value factor of 9,
which is twice as good as a half litre of Tesco brandy.

 

A cheap and effective performance increase may be obtained by fitting
a wildly optimistic speedometer.

 

Oh, so you've owned a Gilera Runner too, eh...

 

hah! I used to love bottle clubs (this is what BYO places were called
in NI)

6 quid cover charge, dance with as many pissed goth chicks you could
grope, put your bottle of shit sherry and 4-pack of lager behind the
bar - those were the fucking days.

I woke up at least twice at 10am on a Sunday morning sleeping
underneath a semi-comatose goth-chick, and then having to break my way
*out* of "Spooks" on Bangor sea-front - happy fucking days.

 

In its defence, it does have to work quite hard.

 

Did you ever work out what mpg your RS did on its fuel swilling bender to
foreign parts?

 

I thought he was managing about 70 miles to a tankful, which would be around
35mpg.

 

aha - I thought as much - that's not /stunningly/ cheap then.

Morrison's sell a "French Spirit" for under 6 quid a 70cl bottle.

I wouldn't even use it to flambé, mind - it's probably good for
stripping old pine doors.

 

When I was commuting from the cultural wasteland of Leighton Buzzard
into London for three years going to college, I was always fascinated
by the 'suits' who would stroll down the platform at Euston drinking
from a can of Special Brew, the other three dangling by the plastic
attachment beside the briefcase. Once in the smoking carriage, the
remaining three cans would be quaffed over the journey of ~45 minutes,
then they would wobble off to their hutches, eyes revolving like the
reels of a one-armed bandit.

I did wonder what sort of state they'd be in when it hit them - but it
seemed to be a daily occurrence so they can't have been too bad.
However, this led me to wonder what sort of shitty work or home life
they had, to make consumption of that quantity of alcohol either
tolerable or necessary. The few times I've voluntarily or knowingly
consumed SB, it has been in an attempt to get as pissed as poss, as
fast as poss and hang the consequences.

I've not done the snakebite thing, but I got caught out by cans of
Kestrel - possibly Super, perhaps Export(?) which were iirc in double
abv figures (but that is questionable in itself - whether I do rc).
Anyway, some **** brought a four-pack round one New Year's Eve when me
and the ex-wife (a waste of a **** if ever there was one) were having
a bit of a do, like. By 11pm I'd run out of Newky Brown so wobbled
into the kitchen and found this four-pack standing in a clear area -
so I snagged them and returned to my chair.

Most everybody was pretty pissed by then and there was lots of sliding
down chairs and sitting on the floor talking bollocks going on. By
midnight or so, I'd done all four cans and suddenly was bereft of the
power of speech. And much else, I should imagine, but that didn't
seem important right then.

You know when you're really really pissed and you just *know* you're
about to enter a cookie-tossing contest? Well, I was. In fucking
No-Trumps (that's one higher than Spades). I could feel the hot and
cold flushes coming over me and I was busting for a piss, but didn't
dare move. The cold sweat came rolling down my forehead, but I didn't
dare blink it away, for fear of losing the absolutely vital
concentrated focus on the top corner of the curtain across the room.

Suddenly my eyes started to uncontrollably flick up and down extremely
quickly, so instead of staring at the top of the curtain I was
alternately looking at the light fitting and the floor, and all points
in between. I tried as hard as I could to bring them under control,
but couldn't. I was scared as hell, as it felt like my eyes were
going to overheat, or explode, or just **** off out of my head. This
went on for about twenty minutes (I could hear the TV and what was
going on) until I fell out of the chair onto the floor and everything
reverted to normal, although horizontal and with a mouthful of carpet.

Bizarre. I don't believe I've ever been that pissed, before or since.

 

Good description.

Being pissed is horrible and I have no intention of ever being pissed
again.

Do the drinkers here who drink 3 or more nights a week just get used
to the quantities of alcohol or do they feel like that every time?

 

Nobody believes this will happen.

Plus being pissed isn't horrible, it's feeling ill and hungover that's
horrible.

Hmm Don't drink 3+ nights a week any more, never really drunk enough to
feel pissed, I guess the tollerance just improves.

Didn't you used to be able to 3 or 4 drink pints and not feel pissed
when you were in your 20's?

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Are you pissed Rob?

 

I wish.

Ask me again later.

 

I intend to make sure it doesn't.

I don't like the being pissed wobbly room bit.

Swot I thought.

Late teens and early twenties. It was the fifth pint that tended to
flip me from merry to pissed. And I had less body weight then. And
tended to do it 4 times a week. Livers are resilient creatures.

 

Like giving up smoking.

I quite enjoy that.. it makes moving around like a video game.

I don't like the not being able to make words come out of my mouth
stuff, or following that, nausea.

Or Paté, some livers are Paté... mmm hungry now.