However - DOB is a completely different matter. DOB hits you all of a sudden with great force. One minute you're fine - laughing in a tinkly way - having fun and being quite ebullient and effervescent - giggling and being adorable to all in the vicinity. Then the devil spots you from down there and throws in a curved ball. Your tongue becomes larger in your mouth which affects your power of speech. (later - he removes the power of speech from you altogether and replaces it with some slimy whispering and the odd bit of mumbling) He ties your ankles together (no- not in THAT kind of way) which mean that when you want to totter off to the ladies room and powder your nose - appearing to waft through the thronged masses looking devastatingly attractive and making heads turn - you in fact resemble a knackered old paraplegic with a ridiculous twisted manic grin on your face. (which - let's face it - is not a good look). Of course - in your own sozzled by champers brain you're still looking fab and doing all the right things - it's just that to everybody else you look like somebody to be avoided at all costs, no matter what.
At some point you lose all sense of economic reason and are quite prepared to spend a couple of hundred quid just to keep the drink flowing - (Champagne is not cheap - especially not in Surbiton) and you would even be prepared to spend more on cabs up to London town if anybody suggested a nightclub or a curry...makes no difference that you will have no money for food for the rest of the month - it's friday night - you're having a ball - and who needs food anyway?
Your speech becomes louder and less coherent, your mannerisms grow a mind of their own and become exaggerated and deformed - and your appearance? Well - all I can say is that I never saw the hedges that I clearly was dragged through. I thought (really) that my lipstick was on straight - honestly I did. Fortunately I have little memory of anything I may have said to anybody post ten o'clock - but in the foggy recesses of my memory I seem to remember chatting to two electricity salesmen from up north prior to that time - and I think the conversation was along the lines of a heated debate concerning the merits and virtues of Barrack Obama as opposed to Bill Clinton - (I did not have sexual relations with that woman). That must have been a great conversation to overhear seeing as I know nothing about US politics! Knowing me I would have been talking with great confidence and babbling on regardless. I have found a business card of one of the chaps in my pocket this morning - but you can rest assured that I have consigned it to the waste bin, and will not be calling! Can you imagine that call..."Hi, it's Tracy - we met the other night in Surbiton...I was the girl who threatened to stab you in the eye with a spanner if you put your hand on my backside one more time, and then kept poking my fingers up your nose because I imagined some fluff up there...you must remember me - we were singing "Four and twenty Virgins" and then I fell over the sofa"...classy!
Luckily for me the group of boys and girls I was with had all imbibed similar quantities of DOB (there were twelve of us and we had about ten bottles all together) so we were all in a similar state - but as for the rest of the patrons and the general public - I beg total forgiveness from them and anybody else who may / may not have seen me.
I have to say though - I had a awful lot of fun - much much merriment and laughter (My face is still hurting from laughing) but I'm not sure that it was enough fun to justify the dreadful way I feel this morning!!! The one saving grace is that nobody had a camera with them so photographs will not be appearing in the celebrity (or otherwise) gossip column of next week's "Heat" magazine!!!!