I don't remember a great deal about the screening in question, other than being escorted out every ten or fifteen minutes for "chats", which really meant they were trying to convince me to go home, for Gods sakes, and stop embarrassing myself.
I didn't though. Instead I headed off down the street to yet another bar, to drink yet more pints and shots and such, and then things went a bit black for quite a while.
Next thing I know, there are people sitting on me in my front garden, trying to keep me from scaling a wall in order to climb through an open window. My mother appeared in the driveway shortly afterwards.
I'm guessing that moment won't go down as one the better memories my family might hold of The Duke.
Not that it was the first time I ended up with people sitting on me on account of my drunkenness.
When I was at tech, for example, maybe seventeen years old, I used to go down to the park across the road the second the off-licence opened, sometimes with friends, more often alone, and I would read The Guardian and drink myself asunder via some very cheap, very potent cider.
Sometimes I took these bottles into classes along with me, filling up empty Lucozade tins with this ghastly, vile fluid, terrified of someone asking for a sip of that there energy drink what I had.
Lecturers saw me plastered and didn't say anything, at least not to any other lecturers. There were many conversations with myself, though, where I was instructed that if I ever appeared in class in such a state again they would have no option but to throw me out and so on. Not that these threats ever came to anything. Two days later I was back sleeping in the computer labs, waking up an hour later with a mouth like a rancid arsehole and a head full of keyboard print.
On the day in question I had gone to the park as usual, but instead of stumbling to the house of a relative and falling asleep, I instead took a detour to a pub I frequented on occasion. Being thrown out of this establishment as soon as mine arse touched barstool is pretty much the last thing I remember until I regain consciousness sometime later and find that I'm throwing shoes at a police-cell door, as my father looks in from outside.
Article comments
1 - Aaron, Duke De Mondo
Man, that felt good right there. I'm glad i got that out is what. It'll be a year this week, by the way, just by way of epilogue.
And to the individual who requested this here conclusion of sorts, i hope you liked it.
Thanks.
2 - Mary K. Williams
God Bless you Duke : )