Your Stories

Richard from Essex

A couple of months back me and three mates went over to Ghent to see the six day and have a couple of beers at the same time. Me and Sean are ex-riders, the other two are very fit lads reknowned for their speed both on the bike and in the bar. Our rendezvous at Dover went awry when one lad forgot his passport, so me and Sean had already finished our Friday night out when the other two arrived at 2 in the morning. Not used to going to bed sober, they dragged us back to the bar and set about catching up. We watched in amazement as gin and tonics were delivered in pint glasses and duly despatched like beer. We didn't have to wait too long for the inevitable, and sure enough Alun passed out at the back of the stage. We left at 6 in the morning and carried him back to our room. And so came to pass the first occasion when Hedstart would have
saved us. And my holdall, for Alun gave it a very thorough hosing during the night!

I didn't think it could get much worse, but clearly I was naive of international level drinking! Saturday night we were in the track drinking lager for 6 hours. So far, so good, but the two beer monsters got lost on the way back and ended up in some dodgy bar without us. They duly rolled in at 6 o'clock again, separately, with Alun having lost an argument with some guttersnipe on the way.
After the previous night I had shrewdly put all my belongings in the top of cupboards. Good plan, as it was Matt's turn to water the carpet in three different locations. I can't bring myself to mention what else he did, but as SIS don't make nappies
I think he was beyond even your help. I just wish I'd had some to enable me to stop their nasty habits!

you forgot to tell us your address Richard, email it through if you would like your free Hedstart!

John from Southend

...Matt and me got ourselves into a spot of bother at a dodgy nightclub in Southend a couple of weeks back. It was a heavy metal kids' night, and the DJ thought it would be amusing to intersperse the Rage Against The Machine and Sepulcra (probably) with some cheesy 80's greats.
Now, being a bit older and less self-image-challenged than the rest of the clientele, myself and the 10-mile champion thought the likes of "Gold" and "Club Tropicana" far superior to the regular fare. With the aid of 12 pints of Stella Artois (may she reign in heaven forever) inside us, we decided to bring some exciting moves to the dancefloor that were not immediately
recognisable to the younger element.
Try this one: on the beat between the lines "Gold" and "Always believe in your soul," do a Bruce Lee style enter-the-dragon high kung fu kick across the floor. Try not to connect with spotty lank haired youth's face. Should this happen, don't worry, carry on regardless. Or this old favourite: on the long note of "Club Tropicana drinks are freeeeee," slide across the busy floor on one knee with arms outstretched like a graceful Marcel Desailly, studs up. Again, avoid ankle ligament damage to other dancefloor inhabitants wherever possible. Well, one thing led to another and we found ourselves surrounded by some
angry greboes. Diplomatically, we used our great sales skills and calmed them all down in order to save the ten of them from a frightfull hiding. Only one, a small boy with a ring through his nose and the muscular build of an HB pencil was not to be subdued. However, Matt took the situation in hand by reasoning with his largest associate in a friendly manner. At this
point, things were looking rosy, but fate was about to play her cards.
Foolishly, the DJ spun Michael Jackson on the turntable. Matt grabbed his new buddy by both ears, hollered "BILLIE JEAN IS NOT MY LOVE!" in one of them, then "moonwalked" backwards across the dancefloor away from him. This appeared to antagonise him.

We left shortly afterwards.

If we had had the benefit of Hedstart, we may have been able to recount these events ourselves the following morning, instead of vomiting in Matt's sink and pissing on his Mum's living room carpet. As it was, we were told the whole horrible truth by a teetotal friend who had witnessed the whole tawdry affair. He swears the above account is accurate, but neither the Matt or myself have any recollection.

Tim from Clitheroe

There is a restaurant in Preston that is noted for its fantastic cabaret nights and ability to get people who should know better dancing on tables and generally having a great night out.

This particular night was New Years Eve so, not being organised enough to book 12 months in advance, I should never have made it there in the first place, having settled for a major "see the year in with style" pub crawl with a large group of friends.
However, come closing time our large group had whittled down to 2 very drunk guys wondering why they had to close so early finking wer can we gerr adrink now. Lets try, having spent a small fortune there the previous year it had to be worth a try, even so we were surprised when they let us in. Time passed on, and a few more bottles of wine later, the owner says "we're just making some supper for the girls -do you fancy some?" Wow, I thought Christmas was last week- did I say this restaurant also has the best looking waitresses - me, 1 friend and 12 mega babes 1997 was lookin good!

More wine and food, but its now seriously late, the cleaners have practically finished but I need a leak so I better go quick before everyone leaves. I knew things were going wrong when half way through doing my duty when it all went dark, but you can't rush out when you haven't finished, so I did what had to be done and then tried to find a way out. Finding a way out in the dark in a far from sober state was not the easiest of tasks and must have taken some time because by the time I got out of the bathroom and onto the landing it was rather disturbingly quiet, has everyone gone?, surely they haven't locked me in?. Well my questions were answered when I walked down the stairs into the body of the restaurant and the ALARM went off. Too drunk to panic I convinced myself that even if I did get arrested then at least I would get out, and what had been a bright happy restaurant was now a cold dark cellar with a mysterious noise coming from the bar area which I was later to find out was the ice machine.

I did start to get worried when the alarm stopped ringing but no one had turned up, it was getting very cold, and I had figured out that because this was New Years Eve they would not be opening for lunch the following day or indeed for the next 3 days - if no body came it would be a long lonely wait. I'd checked the doors but there didn't seem to be any way out everywhere was well locked up as you would expect for somewhere that would not be open for several days. If this was 1997 I wanted to get off, I was surrounded by wine but I'd drunk more than enough, there was no sign of the Police or any one to let me out and the general noise from the town was quietening down. Better phone my mates to let them know where I am so I find the phone in the dark but the answer phone's on - they'd had enought to drink to, but why did I have to leave a message that's forever proof of a New Years Eve that I couldn't get off! I phone again, they answer this time, it's dark and it's cold and I want to get off. Put the lights on they say it'll be less creepy then - so I put everything on the strobes and the lot. It was less creepy of course, but even colder now and I still couldn't get out, and being surrounded by all that wine was now more like torture than temptation. With the though of being locked up for 3 days I found the phone book, wines from France, Italy, Spain, all the best importers names, but no one who could let me out of my restaurant turned dungeon on a great night gone wrong.

Having given up on getting out of this place for some time, and by now in serious need of a gallon of hedstart, I started looking for something to use as a blanket and ended up triggering the alarm again. I'm sure to be arrested now I think with glee and sit waiting for the boys in blue to take me to a warm Police station, even a cell can't be this cold.

What seemed like an age later, about 6am, the owner eventually turns up and lets me out of the cellar. What could I say, only "Happy New Year"?

Chris D from Strathaven

Let me tell you a thing or two about being drunk, its neither big nor clever but usually always very good fun. Recently I had the misfortune of attending my best mates stag night - a recipe for disaster already. As expected it all got a little bit squiffy and much consumption was had. I remember thinking as we plundered our way across the dance floor that I was indeed the best dancer ever. Reflections later however convinced me that dancing with a bottle in your mouth is certainly far from clever. However we kept on drinking and kept on dancin' our merry jig much to the annoyance of the other folk trying to have a regular Saturday night out.
It all started to go a bit pear shape when another mate told me I had to get booze from the bar for after hours drinking. I just remember thinking I can't do that, I really can't drink anymore. A cunning plan was indeed required. I slunk out without anyone noticing and went about finding my way home. This is where the whole thing went completely astray. I was some 25 miles from home, all my mates where drinking still and I had had enough. I needed to seek a friendly place to lay my head and grab some shut eye.
Some hours later the dawn broke and I was wrapped around a tree, tongue as dry as a witches teat and face imprinted with bark effect. My god where the hell am I? I had managed to find some private gardens surrounded by a eight foot jaggy fence, there I was caked out in the undergrowth looking decidedly swampy. I need to get out of here. But where is the gate? I circumnavigated the garden to discover an even bigger jaggy gate well and truly locked. I had to scale the fence to exit with no recollection as to how I got there. The next couple of hours were spent wandering around trying to find my way to a friends flat for some warmth and comfort. A sorry state and in need of revitalisation.