FUN

Think You're A Christmas Party Twat? You Should Meet My Friends...

I felt bad after being a drunk idiot at my work Christmas party. Then I ready Rebecca's piece and felt a bit better. Then I asked my friends to tell me their Christmas party stories. Now I feel absolutely fine.
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Publish date:
December 20, 2012
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Tags:
Christmas, drinking, christmas parties, bad behaviour

This is definitely the season for feeling hungover and remorseful, and I am no exception. OK, fine, the hangover has abated, but the shameful memory of being tarted up in a black bodycon dress, doing a slutdrop in front of a very senior member of staff han't faded yet. And being greeted with the words: "You looked like a stripper crossed with a pole dancer" the next day didn't make me feel much better.

The picture below is of me pretending to do karaoke on the dance floor at this year's work party. You may have asked yourself: "What's worse than doing karaoke in front of colleagues?" and I can tell you that the answer is: "Wailing Mariah into a plastic microphone as everyone else looks on, pityingly".

Funnily enough, Rebecca's piece on office party madness feels painfully relevant to me right now.

My friends have a similar work-party vibe and cavalier attitude towards downing free drinks, so I decided to make myself feel better by crowd sourcing their best bad behaviour Christmas party stories.

So don't worry if you were slurring your words or had eyeliner smeared across your cheek at this year's office hop, I promise you definitely weren’t this bad. You’re welcome.

OBVIOUSLY, I’ve changed names/all pertinent details to preserve my friends’ anonymity/last smidgen of dignity, but these are all 100%, actually, definitely true.

First up is Michelle, 26, a web consultant:

“Last year, I stole reindeer antlers and got drunk enough to tell my workmates what I thought of them. After this, I tried to shag my assistant editor in a toilet cubicle, and he didn’t seem very keen.

"Not put off by this, I then tried to have sex with him on the street outside Green Park Tube station by lifting up my skirt and shouting.

"My friend had to come and pick me up in his car. I left my job soon after this.”

...and moving swifty on to Joan, 27, a journalist:

“It all happened at a work Christmas party a few years ago with a free bar and a typically tacky James Bond theme. A few hours, and many, many wines, into the night, a new senior manager (not mine) started paying me quite a bit of attention.

"As he was young (ish) and attractive I decided to go with it. We flirted pretty outrageously the rest of the night, to the disconcertion of everyone else, and when it was kicking-out time and he asked if he could come home with me, I thought: ‘Why not?’"

"After a frisky taxi ride back, we fell into my flat and started some pretty intense making out on the stairs, in the kitchen, before finally making into my bedroom.

There, after things heated up a little more, he suddenly stopped mid-fumble and announced that he was engaged (I had no idea), that he was an awful person and that he couldn’t do this to his wonderful fiancé.

Then he literally ran out of my house. As if that wasn’t bad enough, we then had to work in the same office for another year, before I got a new job.

"I can confirm that not having sex with someone you work with because they suddenly decide to grow a conscience is just as awkward as when you have actually done it.”

Wendy, 25, is a TV producer:

“I got drunk at my unofficial wrap party, told the cameraman that I wanted to sleep with him, then shouted at my boss and fell off a chair.

After this, I got in a cab to grimy east London “club” the Dolphin and decided not to go inside because I wanted a kebab, so I went to a kebab shop, ordered a meal for me and a meal for a homeless man outside.

An hour later, my script supervisor was trying to get a taxi home from the Dolphin, saw me sharing cheesy chips with a tramp on the street, giving him advice him on ‘how to get into television’ and he hauled me off the pavement and put me in his cab.”

Hannah, 23, a publishing assistant made a classic Christmas party mistake:

“It wasn't meant to end the way it did. I fully intended to leave the Christmas party early and sober(ish) as I’m still fairly new had an early start the next day. Which is why it was so surprising to me when, just a few hours into the office party, I was being fished out of a pool of my own vomit by a senior colleague. I spent the next day apologising to my workmates for being sick on their shoes, and Googling how to get puke out of suede.”

As Rebecca, 28, an advertising sales executive, explains, the lines between work colleagues can get a bit blurry at Christmas parties:

“One horrific ‘away’ Christmas party ended up with four of us passing out on the same bed watching a movie, only for me to be woken by my cute, cute colleague who I had a major crush on kissing me, truly all my Christmasses come at once. It transpired in the morning light that he thought I was someone else, who was on the other side of the bed to him. Sad trombone.”

Georgia, 27, now a teacher, has my favourite story. Ever:

“After an evening downing free shots with my colleagues in publishing and trying to snog a man who had to tell me about six times that he did, in fact, have a girlfriend, I forgot to take the bag out of the cloakroom that contained my keys, wallet and phone.

This meant I later spent 45 minutes drunkenly hammering and howling at my front door on gritty council estate in Elephant and Castle, begging my brother to let me in, only to be told by a neighbour that my brother obviously wasn’t in, but I could sleep on his sofa. I accepted because my neighbour lived with a policeman and that seemed respectable.

However, waking up was bad. Usually when that ‘Where the fuck am I?’ thought runs through your head, you remember you're in your own bed, the light's still on, you're still wearing tights and there's garlic sauce on your pillow. However, in this case, I really did have no clue where I was.

Scared, I went back to work and had a sleep in the disabled loos until everyone else started arriving for work. I managed an hour crying at my desk before my editorial manager appeared, held my face in her hands and told me to go home because my appearance was ‘frightening the horses’.

This happened three years ago and I’ve not yet lived it down.”

Ok xoJaners, now it's your turn. Can you match my friend's tales of booze, debauchery and kebabs? How many personal posessions did you lose at the work Christmas party, and more importantly, did you snog anyone?