He accepted that anyone who dares to host a party will be left with a big clean-up in the morn, but even so, he was dismayed and really quite angry to find that among the cans, the bottles, the sticky spillages, the improvised ashtrays and the hundreds of discarded nitrous oxide canisters, his so-called friends had also left not one but twelve full logs of poo, four times as many nuggets and, yes, a whole wall decorated with an almost impossible number of bogeys.
Pride comes just before a fall
“Watch this!” he screamed, suddenly hurling himself off the cliff and opening a parachute with ‘#BANTS’ inscribed on it in lurid fluorescent pink, which the lads thought was a bit gay, but their concern turned to admiration as he unclipped himself and roared ‘Oi oi!’ as he tumbled toward the jagged rocks so far below.
Next stop – bants!
What banter! Steve had tried the old ‘dip your finger in water to make you piss yourself in your sleep’ on Chris, and it had nearly worked, but then Chris had woken, grabbed Steve, swiftly and expertly manoeuvred him into an agonising arm lock, held that ’til his whimpering subsided before snapping the arm off and laughing, then held a loaded pistol to his head while he produced a turd for Darren to carry round to Steve’s mouth and shove it all in and pinch his nose until he swallowed it else the both of them would have got their fucking heads blown off.