Got awful crazy I wish we'd taped it. Actually, I really don't A mate of mine has just been accepted as a pongo. I found myself on a train home last night because I intended to go for a run along the beach instead of running home from work like I normally do. I decided to text this mate as he lives quite near the station and I've just been given a credit card. Said card had to be tested and I decided the pub was the best place for it. What started as "A pint or two" ended up with us going down the karaoke bar, me grabbing a random poof and singing "Mickey" with him (turns out his name was Mikey. Weird that), and said pongo puking all over me half way through my drunken interpretation of "Bike" by Pink Floyd. For some reason the bar staff said "You two are like seagulls! You come in hear, you make a lot of noise, you disrupt the normal working of everything, make a mess and the leave". My reply of "That's unfair! We haven't left" was met with "You are now. Fuck off!" so we did. I grabbed a fat ginger hippocrocogrillapig on the way out and took her back to the pongos, stopping only for a kebab on the way. When we got to his the pongo promptly passed out in his kebab so I did the decent thing and laughed before going balls deep in the gwar on his couch. My mate wakes up just as I'm spraying on her back, laughs, calls me a cnut, and pisses off to bed. This morning I woke up wondering how I'm not dead. I got on the train to work and grand slammed. I'm now covered in her gash juice, his puke, my everything, and everyone's drink. I'm sat in the office feeling as useful as a para in a maths test and growling at anyone that asks why I smell so bad and why I'm covered in scratches. To get to the point, should I have had an egg with my bacon sarnie this morning?