J---- X.

On Saturday evening, we had a very pleasant meal at the flat, cooked by Neil, Jeff and Devon. (I really, really must return the favour at some point.) Dom was having a party that night, so after stuffing ourselves with food, Josh and I hauled ourselves round to the Outhouse to meet up with Tobias before wandering down to Abbeyhill.

We were at the party for a while when suddenly an ex-workmate (the lucky-to-be-alive one) appeared. "Hey, <censored>! Long time no see. I thought you were camping this weekend."

"Nope; it looked like it might possibly rain. Maybe. So we stayed here instead."

<censored> was certainly plenty happy with the beer, but we blethered amiably for a bit. I mingled for a bit, then Jen, one of the aforementioned new acquaintances from Friday night's drunken parent action, turned up with Jim, a friend of hers, and I said hello and chatted to them for a bit.

<censored> appeared again, clearly now the worse for wear, although still good naturedly pissed. "Blah de blah!" he said. "Yadda yadda wibble," and then slapped me a couple of times in what I assume was plastered affection. And then, rather bizarrely, tried to grab Jen's stomach. Just sort of clutched clumsily at her midriff with rather excessive vehemence, still grinning happily to himself.

Needless to say, she wasn't best pleased and stormed off downstairs to join Jim outside, having a cigarette. I headed after her to apologise for <censored>'s odd behaviour. As we waited for Jim to finish his cig, <censored>'s girlfriend, face red from crying, burst out of the stair door, and proceeded to weep inconsolably.

Followed a couple of minutes later by a louder commotion, which turned out to be Josh and four other male partygoers lugging the near-comatose <censored> down the stairs. I gaped, Jen tried to comfort his girlfriend, and Jim said something like "Bloody hell."

"Take his arm," Josh said. "Otherwise he'll try to punch someone."

I took his arm, and a tag team of coffin bearers carried the half-belligerent, half-limp <censored> round the corner to his flat. It was like trying to take Father Jack home at the end of the night.

After a brief discussion at the bottom of his stair, with <censored> flopping about like an angry beached fish on the ground, we dragged him upstairs to his flat. His girlfriend protested: "Leave him on the ground!" Us: "He'll choke on his tongue. Either that or his vomit." We plonked him onto his bed, made sure she was alright and came back to what was left of the stunned party.

Observations:

A) a person is really heavy
B) a psychotic corpse is a complete bastard to carry
C) probably won't be seeing <censored> again for a loooong time