Many, many acts of wanton disorderly conduct. Some quite horrific. One below:
I gatecrashed a 21st birthday with about 6 friends when I was a young fella. Nobody objected too much because we were polite and at that stage....not drunk. However, I went mad on the booze and before long entered 'the danger zone'. They had huge catering tables laid out in a lovely fashion. Central to this was a spit roasted young pig. People were delicately using the carving knives provided to put pieces of pork on their paper plates....but not me.
I ran in (by this stage well out of order and going into 'berserker' mode), pushed everyone aside and plunged my hand up the pig's arsehole. I pulled out some of the inside meat in an attempt to eat it but most just ended up stuck to my face in a greasy mess. As I was plunging my hand back in again, much to the horror of about 40 people, I heard violent cries outside and recognised my friends voices. I ran outside, with the entire piglet still on my arm via the arsehole and saw my friends in a scuffle with some of the partygoers. I went in screaming and starting hitting people with my pig club arm. People were gasping and going 'NO NO NO!' as I beat a few people to the ground in a berserk viking like rage.
As I brought my arm back to lay another strike on someone, the piglet flew off my arm and went hurtling through the air. Unfortunately it hit the birthday boy's mum in the head knocking her down. Then things got really bad.
The entire party including the birthday boy's enraged father now turned on us and we fled for the car we had come in. During our escape in the vehicle we side-swiped a few cars making it worse. The fact that we weren't arrested was testament to the speed with which we reached the car in darkness preventing everyone from getting our registration number.
On the way to the nightclub (our next stop) I spewed out of the side window. When this happens at 80 kms/h, it has a peculiar effect on the vomit pattern. This was apparent when we arrived at the club and exited the vehicle. There was an immense racing stripe of half digested pig and beer down the side of the car. My friend was not happy. He left to go home to wash it off saying that it was damaging the paint.
I somehow got into the club with my friends despite my decrepit appearance. Things did not improve throughout the night as:
1. I spilt a drink on a bikie and during the ensuing argument, challenged to fight him and his entire club. Not smart. I was kicked out of the club as a result.
2. I decided to practice my drunken Ninja skills by jumping along a line of parked cars including their rooftops, bonnets and rear boot areas. The ensuing car alarms ensured fairly quick police response.
3. My running skills were put to the test as I was pursued by Police. Luckily, I knew the town very well having lived there for several years. I managed to evade them by slipping through some bollards which caused the Police to continue the pursuit on foot. I then cleverly crossed a park near a coastal inlet and jumped into the water. The inlet was rimmed with mangrove-like swampy areas infested with snakes. I went through the deep mud for probably around an hour, far from the road, and slipped under a bridge. When it seemed clear, I got back up onto dry land and made the remaining 30 minute walk home without detection by the cops.
I arrived home covered in swamp mud, my face and clothes covered in pig fat, beer and traces of vomit. Classy.
