Bed-hops and Lunatics

I'm please to announce the return of an old friend. A friend who was omnipresent during my early years in employment, but in recent times has been exiled for reasons not of their own doing. However, this year has seen a resurgence, and we can all rest easy in our beds that the glory days are back again.

Of course, that laboured introduction refers to the debauched antics of my colleagues at the company Christmas party.

As I said above, in recent times, antics, tomfoolery and the varying levels of horseplay have been at a worrying low. Refusing to blame the credit crunch, I believe it's because the ratio of single-to-impressionable staff has been skewed by the sheer number of married and shamefully unadulterous folk we've recently employed.

Skip forward to this year, and we're back on form, fuelled by a heady injection of youngsters, singletons and recently-divorced arsehats bent on alcohol-fuelled redemption. The following events back up these outrageous claims:

- 1 chap drank a bottle of champagne and 2 cans of lager. On the bus on the way to the hotel at 4 in the afternoon
- Said chap hit the karaoke at 7:15, and threatened to knock someone 'spark out' who he believed had a better singing voice than he did*
- 1 young man was propositioned by a much older, bisexual male colleague, culminating in the question "Have you ever shagged a man?"
- A free bar was declared at 7:45. By 9:45, £2,500 of drinks had been ordered (but not necessarily consumed)
- The free bar was closed when somebody ordered 30 pints of Fosters
- 2 of the more attractive members of the female staff enjoyed the pleasures of 2 salesmen sharing a room. One in the bed and one in the bath
- 1 young lady, who is well-known to have a boyfriend, was propositioned by a young chap along the lines of "Fancy going up to your room?". She needed no second invitation.

* I was the man he threatened to knock out. I was well scared, I tells you.

Good times. Personally, I much prefer this kind of party as a married man, as you watch the myriad perpetuators of the above carnage making the walk of shame on the Monday morning (or in some cases, setting new records in non-plussed arrogance). Let's face it, they're not doing any harm (apart from maybe tearing the occasional trouser press off the wall in the throes of passion) but isn't that the point of an all-expenses-paid Christmas soiree - to wreck possessions, reputations and the trust of the free bar cardholder in as quick a time as possible?

It isn't? Cripes. I'd better have a word with a few of the more 'energetic' staff before next year then...