SOMEWHERE, OVER THE BALLYHOOLEY ROAD...

Work-dos are strange things. Seeing persons out of their natural habitat, behaving like human beings instead of the mindless drones that the Anonymous Multinational has cultivated utterly resores your faith in humanity. It's a bit like seeing your teacher out and about around the town and not stowed away in the classroom cupboard as expected.
Anyway, it was clear that everyone needed to get out of their cupboards and relieve executive stress in their own unique way - and as public masturbation is still a taboo, it mostly manifested itself in excessive alcohol intake. In fact, it came close to public masturbation when Barry whipped out his baby Barry to exhibit his new piercings. I hesitate to immortalise that event on The Flog as my therapist advised me that "I need to forget". Still, the nightmares are becoming less frequent.

So we rolled from the house party to the Franciscan Well, and from there to the Brog (as usual). Several things of great interest happened I'm sure, but my toxicant-affected brain now confuses them with old episodes of Rainbow. Imagine my surprise to turn around to see George snogging Zippy, and Bungle telling Jeffrey that he hated his "f*ck*n guts" and that he "dressed like a homo."

At 3:00 AM I left the festivities and began the trek up to Ballyhooley Road. I decided to an alternate route, you know just to mix it up a bit. I then decided to try a short cut, so I veered off Wellington Road (I think) and tryied to see if I could find some sexy route down towards St.Lukes Cross. What I in fact did do was end up in some guy's back garden, just as he swung around the house on his way home from the club.
Startled, he looked at me.
"Er sorry mate, just looking for a short cut."
To my relief, he broke out in a braod smile and said, "no shortcut there boy, just a cliff!"
I realised I was wavering drunkenly by a sheer drop, and I could see my house in the distance, tiny and unattainable. Two or three more steps and I would've been halfway home, probably minus my life. I was looking for a short cut but that would've been takin the piss.
So there I was, to quote the Rainbow themesong: "Up above the steets and houses." I rolled home again eventually, and after survivng a indiana-jones-esque death-defying moment, I fell over a pair of boots in the hallway with an echoing, house-shaking thud. I hurried back back to my cupboard where I belong, putting a sign outside stating that I was not to allowed out under any circumstances without adult supervision.