Hangovers

(A reminder to all British cunters out there. BST ended at 2am earlier this morning.. So don’t forget to put your clocks back, and enjoy an extra hour in bed ogling this pic or St Greta in yesterday’s nom! – Day Admin)

Fellow Cunters, for your Cuntsideration:

Hangovers.

Following on from the nomination about that world record pub crawl, that wasn’t, I nominate hang overs.

I never really suffered a bad one until I hit my 20’s-after a particularly heavy session, which lasted nearly 12 hours, culminating in my waking up in A&E.

The older I get, the the fuckers seem to get worse.

I look forward to hearing drinking tales from my fellow cunters.

Nominated by: Cuntfinder General

45 thoughts on “Hangovers

    • Morning Mr F…you’re channeling the spirit of Oliver Reed?!
      He’d be great fun on modern quizzes and political discussions when placed alongside a plethora of p00fs and darkıes.

      • Morning,Mr. Cunt-Engine.

        I’m hoping that if I stay full to the gills with alcohol, when I eventually croak the explosion at the Crematorium will wipe out the remaining members of my ghastly family and the other gleeful “mourners”.

      • That would be a sight to behold. Upon the shoulder of which relative would you like the remains of your twig and berries to land?!

      • There’ll be no one there, they’ll all be at your place, fighting over your antique strawberry fork and all the rest of your vast amount of accumulated booty.
        Morning, Dick.

      • Your grace Earl Fiddler of Northumbria you are my clone and I claim my five pounds.

  1. 10 years ago, my 40th birthday in Bruges, I had a hangover so complete (alcohol poisoning, essentially) that about 2pm during a brewery tour I burst into tears (normally I believe men crying is cissy as fuck and reserved purely for a loved one’s funeral) and had to be escorted back to the hotel with broken blood vessels in my eyes.
    Hardly surprising as people seem to forget that drinking more than a little is self-poisoning.

    • Hangovers were more a thing of my youth.
      As ive got older I have more or less avoided them.
      Stick to the same drink all night,
      Glass of water before bed.
      The wirse hangover I ever had was after a engagement do,
      They had a stage with a DJ
      And he did a competition to see who could do the most tequila shots.
      Not very responsible?
      Anyway I won it.
      Felt like I had won the world heavyweight championship!
      Basking in the glory of my peers.
      Next morning?
      Felt like a rape victim.
      Never touched tequila again.

      • Tequila is, quite literally, fermented beaner piss.
        Disgusting stuff.
        Have you ever tried proper Absinthe, MNC?

      • Morning Thomas,
        Yes I have, my son is a fan of it.
        Id heard of it being the ruin of poets etc,
        So was pre warned and careful.
        Its not something id make a habit of drinking.

      • Revolting stuff, I had tequila shots on my 18th and regretted it for a few days after, even now just the smell makes me a bit green. Its a small wonder the spics can even walk themselves across the U.S. southern border, smuggle drugs and rape unaccompanied minors while crossing into Uncle Joes American utopia.

      • Worst for me was playing Billy Big Bollocks when I was about 20. With older blokes from work on a Christmas do. I added myself to a drinking contest with some serious older drinkers drinking whisky (JD).

        I managed about 20-25 I guess (I’d already had about 6 pints of ale). I knocked myself out in the bogs (I fell away from a sink and banged my head on the floor by all accounts). A taxi then me home while semi conscious (I don’t recall any of this) with my ex in tow crying, thinking I was going to die and should go to hospital. She was probably right in some ways.

        I ended up vomitting all night. I ran myself a bath and sat in it, full of my own vomit not long after. I was too fucked to move. I was fucked up for about three days. Didn’t eat for 2 days. Just shitting and puking. And shaking a lot. I craved the cold. Not sure why. It was winter and I wanted the bedroom windows open.

        Looking back, I should’ve gone to hospital really, I was lucky to survive.

        Never touched JD since (I still remember it projectile vomiting out of my nose, mouth and arse at the same time).

  2. Every day at work after my 3 to 4 eye openers wear off for the past 20 years (I used to be a stoner the 10 working years before I grew up). Suck it in, dry your eyes and keep buggering on.

  3. Getting pissed can be a dangerous business, as we all know. A lad who used to be at school with us got pissed up one New Years eve, decided to take a shortcut home over the fields. He never made it, they found him frozen to death in the snow the next day.
    It was a fucking cruel winter that year, so cold that the diesel froze in the fuel lines of the truck, the temperature was minus twenty.
    One of my worst experiences, was traveling from Oxford to Liverpool on the train, whilst absolutely blind fucking drunk, after a mammoth drinking session with a nutter from the RAF.
    I finally made it home, after a fevered journey of delirium,throwing up and falling and busting my hand, something that still plays me up, forty years later.
    Why the fuck do we do it ?
    Good morning.

  4. I foolishly drank a bottle of vodka when in my late teens.
    Spent the next day and a half throwing the contents and lining of my stomach up plus my skin turned yellow for the next 4 days an all just for good measure.

    Don’t think I’ve ever been as pissed or ill with alcohol anytime since – or drank vodka. Awful stuff.

    • Did that when I was 19,1+2/3 bottles of Stolichnaya within an hour. Yawned all over the ceiling, how I don’t recall. Never touched the bolshie muck since.

  5. I remember getting shitfaced on my 20th birthday and going home on the train feeling an overwhelming need to spew my ring up. I pulled down the window, stuck my head out and heaved copiously….

    Unfortunately, I was facing in the direction of travel and the whole lot blew back in my hair, face, shirt etc. Most unpleasant.

    The resultant hangover was a fucking humdinger and I still felt a bit dodgy two days later.

  6. Up untill i was about 62 i would love to go out with my old mates and have a skinful. The problem was , they would be on their 2nd pint and i would be on my 6th. I just loved that adrenaline kick i would get after the first couple. I would be funny and great fun to be around untill later in the evening when i was so pissed i would become an absolute arsehole.
    It took a long time to realise i had a drink problem. So i abstained for a year. Now i limit it to 2 maybe 3 pints a night every couple of weeks and no more hangovers worrying about who i insulted or who’s wife i had my hands all over.

  7. Went on a narrow boat holiday in 1986 with a group of workmates. We all drank copious amounts during the week of course but being hardened pissants suffered little.
    The last night of the trip we moored up at the hire company’s base which was located near a fine looking country hostelry. On checking the kitty we discovered we had a fair amount of dosh so decided on a last night piss up.
    I remember the first few drinks my speciality at the time was Spesh with vodka chaser. I have a dim memory of the walls of the pub slowly moving in and out when I made a last visit to the toilets which since the previous visit the big urinals had been replaced by small high mounted urinals with hot and cold taps and more traps had been supplied.
    Very impressed, I made the boat and collapsed in the gangway beside my bunk.
    Awoke half on my bunk were my faithful companions had dumped me feeling somewhat shite. Went for a slash, drank half a gallon of water and thought cornflakes good. After having cornflakes and tea the World took a turn for the worst spewing my ring up every ten minutes, spent the journey home in the back of mates van with my head in a bucket, had the shakes so bad had to sit down to piss. Took two days off sick because I really thought I was dying.

  8. The worst hangover ever experienced by humankind occurred after a Christmas do in the block of flats where I lived in Denmark.

    Half a case of Tuborg Christmas beer and an entire bottle of blue Aalborg dill akvavit was imbibed that night in what could be best described as a heroic, yet I’ll advised display of drinking prowess. The hangover lasted for a week.

    Things only got bad the following morning when I started throwing up.
    The wife decided this was a good time to go and visit her mum. Departing with a cheery ‘Good luck, arsehole’ and leaving me all alone in my self inflicted suffering.

    I spent the next half an hour with my head down the toilet bringing up dill flavoured bile. Then the other end started to purge. The smell of which made me throw up to the point of passing out on the bathroom floor.

    I came round in the dark and genuinely thought I had died. The bathroom floor now covered in puke and liquid shit.
    At this point, I managed to drag myself into the shower and hose myself and the bath room floor off before the wife came home. Praying to whatever God would listed to make this stop.

    Needless to say, the rest of that Christmas was spent teetotal.

    I still retch if I smell dill.

  9. I am horrified by this nom.

    Hangovers are for homosexuals, transsexuals and vegans.
    A hangover just confirms that you can’t handle your drink, even several hours after you have drunk it.

    It is the very definition of poofery.

    You will be saying that you can’t finish your phaal curry next.

    Disgraceful.

  10. A mate of mine exploded* on the back seat of his Dad’s BMW when a few of us were camping out at Brands Hatch for the Grand Prix in 1982.

    * To simultaneously puke, piss and shit oneself.

    • Anyone been sober around a bunch of pissed up blokes knows what a fuckin nuisance pissheads are.
      Mithering
      Repeating themselves
      Talking bollocks
      Unreasonable
      Get upset easily
      Just a all round nightmare.
      No wonder bouncers are moody fuckers!

    • I’ll take my previous claim back. You good Fiddler are his grace, the 20th Earl of Caithness, Malcolm Sinclair, Chief of the Sinclairs. You have my blood and my sword and I claim my five bank of Scotland pounds or equivalent weight in peat.

  11. Aged 16, at a party, I won a bet by downing a pint of gin in 2 long gulps-the thing is I was fine-for about 10 minutes🤢
    I remember staggering across a large room, aiming for a door at one side and actually ending up at another.
    Finally in bed, I experienced full on “room spin” for the first time-resulting in me projectile vomiting all over a large Persian rug.
    I awoke the next morning feeling 100% fine-until I saw the fucking rug.
    Took me fucking hours to clean it and pacify my mate, in who’s holidaying parents bed, I had been sleeping…..

    No hangover whatsoever, but I have never really touched fin since.

    • I regularly used to experience what we used to call “the whirlybeds”. A horrible sensation and one which was guaranteed to ultimately result in “calling God on the big white porcelain telephone”, assuming one made it that far….

  12. After a pub crawl in Benitses Corfu I forgot how to speak English.
    I knew exactly what I wanted to say but nothing would come out.
    Lasted a few hours until I could get a taxi and manage to say where I needed to go.

  13. My worst hangover ever was after a Xmas piss-up when I was doing a stint at the old post office hq in Brum (student hols work). I was puking and shaking all Xmas Eve and into Xmas Day. No wonder the fucking post office was in the state it was in those days with those drunken sods.
    I’ve got a touch of the shakes this morning too; I’m still trying to recover from yesterday’s monumental wank after watching Grunta performing ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’. Fucking hell, she’s turned into the greatest sex goddess since Emily Thornberry…

    Morning all.

  14. I used to suffer from hangovers and spinning rooms a lot when I was a lad. Four pints in those days and I was well on the way.
    Now days it takes about 12-13 pints to get close to that.
    The worst hangover I can remember was when I was 17 after a Christmas party round my Economics teachers flat. She was as fit as fuck and half the six form were invited.
    I drunk half a bottle of scotch, never touched the stuff since, had a big bowl of chilli con carne and put my hand up a girls skirt. She gave me a right hook in the ear that rattled my brain which eventually made me feel like puking.
    I staggered to the bathroom and bumped into my maths teacher and promptly puked all over him. He was later puked on again by my mate Dave.
    I remember the next day spending most of it on the great white telephone talking to God and trying to stop myself turning inside out.

  15. Hangovers are nature´s greatest gift to mankind. They teach you a lesson and can fuck you up so much that you will never repeat the same mistake. I haven´t touched a drop of whisky for over 30 years after a massive hangover brought on by too much Famous Grouse. I still drink almost every day but am aware of my limit. Another other point though. I always stop drinking completely for Lent, i.e. about seven weeks, but don´t feel particularly good or healthier as a result.

  16. My last disgusting excess involved the regurgitation of the evening meal of kippers, brown bread and butter, and about 3/4 of a bottle of navy gin. My pillows were soaked with something that resembled Madogga-s gleet.

  17. Nothing worse that waking up and feeling like your recovering from an ortopsie, full English is the cure, if you can keep it down…

  18. Hangovers are horrific when you’re learning how to drink beer (16-21).

    Then, not so bad once you learn the trick of a pint of water and two paracetamol at bedtime.

    Then, when you hit your mid to late 40s, you can get absolutely horendous hangovers after just 4 or 5 pints.

    I can’t do more than 2 pints now if I have work the next day. I used to be able to manage 4 or 5 pints and go to work the next day like fuck all had happened.

    Fuck knows what it’s like in your 60s and beyond.

  19. I still like getting pissed up, but have had to tone the regularity back in recent years due to money; health; a previous inclination towards cigs.

    A few stories stick in my mind – the first of which was when I was an exchange student in St. Petersburg; I then ended up after “three drinks only” on a train to Moscow, and drinking what can only be described as some booze made in Ivan’s Nan’s bathtub from a plastic bottle… and there was Russian Drum ‘n Bass.

    The second time was when I got trollied on my mate’s company credit card in the Savoy on cocktails and simultaneously shat myself and vommed on the floor in their lounge bar.

    These days it’s just beer and wine.

    A truly inspiring image. Thanks for sharing. 😉 – NA.

  20. I used to get hangovers when I was younger and drunk pints of beer or cider, pissing or vomiting out all the moisture and electrolytes over the curse of an evening.

    Now I have a few glasses of spirits and get merry but never suffer too much as it doesn’t make me piss all night or throw up.

    I’ve found if you want to feel merry-quite drunk, still enjoy yourself but not feel terrible the next day, a few pints followed by scotches or other spirits is not a bad evening’s refreshment.

    I just never get pissed up anymore, Been there, done it.

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