Sunday, 20 September 2015

What kind of Drunk are you?

Twickenham in the Rugby season is an excellent place to do a bit of random research into the antics of pissed people. From inside the little flat even through the double glazing, you can hear the festivities begin, rise to a crescendo and then at about 3am dwindle to an incoherent argument.

I popped over the road last night to pick up an Indian Takeaway for dinner. It was just before the France V Italian game was due to start, and this end of town was like a holocaust zone, probably because there are fewer pubs here playing the games on large screens.

Because I haven't worked out how to 'buzz someone in', I waited while they cooked my food. The restaurant was completely empty, on a Saturday night! While I waited I chattered to the fellas there and asked if the World Cup was good for business. The consensus was that they could take slightly more cash, but when they considered the hours and the cleaning, well really they would rather have their ordinary trade. Now the hours I understood. I imagined that customers would pull on their feed bags straight after the game - So sort of 10 ish, I certainly would be tonguing for food by then, but they told me that they are pretty empty til after 1am when the pubs kick out! Shit who eats at 1am?  I would suffer such appalling reflux that sleep would be impossible unless I was standing tall. Ok so the wages bill must rocket cos they have punters in there til after 3am. Whew! what a shift huh? Hope the tips are good.

The cleaning issue took more of an explanation. As can be imagined if people have been on the piss since mid afternoon, by 1am they are bound to be a bit quiffy. When I walked passed a big Rugby pub at about 2pm they were playing yesterday's game on the large screen and the place was heaving, people were drinking and singing and arguing the ref's calls. It sounded pretty friendly and festive, but the fellas across the road reckon by 1am quite a lot of joviality has evapourated and what is left is hungry, pissed, sometimes angry, sometimes joyful - depending on the result, but almost uniformly poorly co-ordinated folk, looking for more drink and some food. They don't care about the quality of the food so long as there is more beer.

Well I gave thought to all this as I trooped home with my Lamb Korma and rice and Naan bread to mop up all the sauce. Unusually I used a plate and poured a glass of wine, and whilst the food was tasty, I was disappointed that it was pretty dry. To quote Manu, 'Where's the sauce?'

And then I wondered if they had tried to reduce the drippage onto their fabric table cloths and so to reduce the cleaning bills, by having less to fall from the fork to the face.

Anyway it I got to thinking about drunks. There are probably as many types as there are drunks.

Life of the party, story tellers and joksters.
Silent slide off the sofa onto the floorers.
Nanoo Nanooers who can't remember which part of their body is used to sit, so they end up with their heads stuck firmly into the seat cushions.
Light on their feet dancers, who can romance and sweep folk away with their Pavlovian waltzes.
Aggressive arguers hell bent on getting up into people's faces - these are the spitters that the fellas across the road really dislike.
Stumble and fallers who stay put until some sense of sobriety returns, even if it means that others need to do a chicken high step around 'em to get to the loo. Have you ever been to a party when someone passes out on the loo? A girlfriend did it one night out on the town and when finally the door was wacked in to get her out, it slammed right into her nose and smeared said nose all over her face, ouchie.

I can hear all of these out on the streets until at about 3 am there is blessed silence, except for the odd hollerer and singer and stumbler.

Do you fit into any of these categories?
Have I missed some out?

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