I got paralytic drunk at the Xmas party. And I’m grateful to the girls for getting me back to the hotel, I wish they hadn’t tried to dress me for bed.

Waking up in your undies when the last thing you remember was being in a dress is a little disturbing.

Not looking forward to the 8am icebreaker on Monday morning.

I never want to hear the words “free bar” again.

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Lugwho · 61-69, M

At one of our Works Christmas parties, the HR manager arranged heap rooms un the hotel foe people that lived out of the city. Ond of my colleagues, who was a keen homebrewer, set up a bar in his room, with a selection of his beers, including his infamous beetroot ale, a particularly potent, but nasty, purple concoction.

He wasn't in the next day at the traditional post party reconstruction. We phoned the hotel and got hold of him in his room. He described his bathroom as looking like a murder scene, with purple vomit everywhere. We never managed to work our who was the culprit who didn't get on with the beetroot ale.