We had the end of year 'do' at work this evening.

Champagne was duly quaffed and the foie gras was unceremoniously disappeared down the gullets of the usual gang of rogues and reprobates who always crawl out of the woodwork at this time of year

BoyIdiot had made an effort to impress : he'd taken his midweek shower and was attired in a dashing 'all black, save for the lurid pinkish-red tie' look

Actually, his tie was so blindingly lurid that for the rest of the night, wherever you looked, you could only see pinkish-red .... cheese: lurid pinkish-red ... champagne : lurid pinkish-red ... the floor : lurid pinkish-red *heuu*

By nine o'clock there were already some queesy looking people, most notably the slimy guy that we all call Grenouille - Toad - who still, at his age, hasn't figured out that the best way to survive these evenings is to alternate the booze with the food.

The upshot of it all being that he had his clammy paws over every chick in the place and was subsequently pushed, slapped and trodden on *ho-hum plus ça change*

I think must've had just two glasses of champagne and a few glasses of red before i switched over to orange juice - i really wanted to get away as i know that once you start to have a drink at these things, well ... you just can't escape so easily