The morning after the night before

Yesterday was a messy one, just like the last time I went out with Ed and ended up with a huge cut on my gum from trying to drink out of a smashed Corona bottle (that really impressed the girls we were talking to) before getting kicked out of a cab for chundering. Last night was the 'GOSCARS' and as per usual it was just an excuse for everyone; especially me, Ed, Sam, Nico and India to get absolutely hammered. For those of you who aren't aware, the Goscars evening is the annual award ceremony for performances at the Gutshot, followed by a fun £50 KO tourney. All seemingly nice and fun, well that was until Ed and I came up with the idea of 'the tournament poker drinking game'. The rules are simple, all the players in the game have their chip counts taken at the end of each level and the player with the fewest chips has to buy the round of everyone else (the tournament had 15 minute levels by the way). There was an extra added bonus that if you busted out, upon leaving the game you buy a round of shots too. Despite never having to buy a round and lasting longest in the tourney, India was the first to go for a TC (tactical chunder), and I certainly wasn't far behind.

Apparently the tournament poker drinking game wasn't quite enough and Ed and I (who were tablemates) started on the double vodka/cokes and also managed to sink a few sporadic shots of Samuel Buca with Dhaam, JJ and Barry.

After I busted the tourney at about 11:45; which coincidentally was the last point I remember knowing the time, I went to the bar with Ed and Lou-Lou and as far as I can tell, in mid conversation with Ed, simply stopped talking and walked outside for my first TC. The wall to the side of the club was my first victim, swiftly followed by me trying to walk to old street underground only to stop 20 meters down the road to settle for about 10 minutes (this is where Phil saw me 'laying in my own pool of vomit').

As I slowly stumbled on, my next resting place was waiting for a tube to Euston, where I expertly found a good hiding spot to throw up in (especially sorry for whoever have to clean that one up) and I think some poor girl even came up to me and asked if I needed any help; to which I very politely declined. I managed to hold everything in when I was actually on the tube (which I think took almost all of my tactical knowhow), and the next place I remember being after that was Euston station toilets which funnily was the first time of the night I actually managed to throw up in a toilet or sink all night. After that I stumbled on the last train home and parked myself in the train toilet for the 20 minute journey to Watford; no prizes for guessing what I got up to. All in all, having left the club at 11:45, it took me well over 90 minutes to make the 7 minute journey from the club to Euston, and there are several things that are currently unexplained-like why I have a fairly deep cut on my thumb and bruises all over my body-that I'm sure will come to me in time. When I got to Watford, I stumbled home, threw up once more in my toilet before falling happily asleep in front of Eddie Izzard.

All in all, thanks very much to Barry for putting on such a fun evening, I look forward to making an even bigger dick out of myself next year.

Other than last night it had been a fairly quiet week. I had an awesome time out with Lizzie and Sarah on Monday, having dinner and predrinking and Sarah's before going to some club in Soho. I also managed to put in a winning live session on Wednesday to the tune of about £750. Im looking forward to putting in some MTT volume this weekend, hopefully that 6 figure score is around the corner.

Love and hugs to you all
xx