WilderThanYou.com

Where do i start?

This weekends carnage can safely be blamed upon a fairly innocent Skype conversation between myself and Bully – discussing plans for Cider experimentation on Friday, included here for your pleasure:

Friday after work saw both Cider academy graduates warming up with scrumpy at their respective after work boozers. They met shortly after in the Raven to begin experimentation proper. With Docker as the lager drinking, cider dodging control group, the Scrumpy tap at the Raven was swiftly dominated by the apple crazed duo.

Donkey punch shots, sourz and tequilas augmented the torrent of fizzy apple piss until last orders was called and the “experiment” left with all the usual suspects to Tierneys at Monkey towers. Things went down hill very quickly indeed here, with Bully falling off his stool and passing out on the breakfast bar. We will not speak of the Acetone shooter, but credit to Daves bacon and cheese fried sandwich must be given – proving to be the only thing that would raise Bullys head.. with help. Please find below a video accompaniment:

Shortly after Bully succumbed to the Cider fog and passed out on the sofa. Let the games begin. First a nail polish moustache, then Docker managed to completely fill Bullys ear with Green nail polish. Considering Bullys comatose condition myself and Docker invented the “Drop rocks on Bullys nuts” game, videoed for your pleasure below:

Not exactly sure who was the winner, but i hope i’m never a contender.

Part two was started at Midday on Saturday after fuel in the Ritz cafe. The forward thinking and ever methodical Bully, mindful of the days drinking ahead, declared that with watching the rugby and going to Mr Warrens fireworks both likely to be thoroughly drinky affairs – a 9 pm pass out was a sensible target. Calculating 2 pints an hour he quickly realised that he was staring down the fat end of an 18 pint ultra-bender. It couldn’t get much worse than this until at approximately 4 pints in, we decided to play the pitcher drinking game. 3 rounds in saw us complain to the bar staff, being rewarded with a larger pitcher. Who knows how many rounds were played, things got even worse when Betney turned up.

Some time later (it was dark) we made it over to Mr Warrens for fireworks. I walked straight into a pond i didn’t know was there. We then started playing games around the pond we did know was there. Bully ploughed straight into the pond – illustrated below, as others completed the game. He then declared he was going home to change. Usually this is the last we would see of him, but the mans commitment to science was such that he turned up 20 minutes later with dry trousers and shoes. He then proceeded to walk straight into the other pond.

After the fireworks Mr Warrens tool shed was abused and the following games were devised/played/inflicted on people:

1. Docker-tape
2. Clampy-hand-man
3. Staple-gun-cross-stitch
4. Power-tool-groin-scare

It’s safe to say that power tools and alcohol do not mix. Power tools aren’t soluble in alcohol.

We got lock down when we found the compressed air.

A few photos if i may:

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After Mr Warrens, back to the Raven for last orders, more cider and shooters – sourz featuring heavily with the apple themed academia.

Back to Tierneys for some rock band. Once connected, Betney walked through the cables, destroying the DVD – which forced us back to the sauce.

Betney volunteered to play fire-wang, so some extremely flammable acetone was used to soak a long piece of kitchen roll. This was jammed between his legs and the det-cord lit. The video below will attest to the horror that ensued.

As if this wasn’t enough he decided to go one further and succeeded in pulling of his much fabled, rarely seen, special move – the arse sparkler. 1 medium flow tampon and 5 mini sparklers later, the below occured:

Things calmed down after this as i had my back tattooed with nail varnish and a sparkler jammed into my shoulder. We finished a little after 3 am a job well done and the conclusion that indeed – you can’t fuck with Cider, Cider fucks with you.