New Year’s Eve – A day where all amateur drinkers enter pubs at midday, get embarrassingly drunk and stay until midnight with the sole intention to spoil the fun for others.
Okay, that’s not quite the Oxford English Dictionary definition but it’s pretty close.
Getting served at the bar becomes a nightmare as, once you’ve successfully navigated your way through the carnage and fallen bodies around you – a scene reminiscent of Tom Hanks in Saving Private Ryan – you are greeted by bar staff who have absolutely no idea who is next to be served. But, as they say in I’m A Celebrity, “it’s not you.”
Standing there in your “cloak of invisibility,” you get frustrated as the person beside you orders six plates of food – with some stupidly fussy modifications – and various coffees from the painstakingly slow coffee machine that was seemingly invented at the start of The Industrial Revolution.
Fearing having to endure this again, you order three rounds of drinks and ask for a tray. Your drinks are poured into ridiculously thin, unstable flute glasses and you try to carefully navigate your way back to your distant table through the drunken jostling crowd who have lost all concept of spatial awareness as your tray becomes inevitably beer-soaked.
Nearing midnight, the whole pub becomes eerily quiet as everyone watches the new year countdown on tv and you look around in amazement at how individuals who can barely remember their own names, can count backwards from 10 to 1.
Drunks will then weirdly claim that Robbie Burns was a brilliant wordsmith whilst confessing that they have no idea what “Auld Lang Syne” means and they’ve never used any of those words individually in any sentence at any time in their lives.
Personally, I just think he got drunk one night, scrawled something on the back of a beer-mat and couldn’t read or remember what it was in the morning.
Be honest, we’ve all done that.
Happy New Year.
Categories:Christmas
Russ Writes 
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